Sometimes I wonder why I have to be the chosen one when it comes to dealing with hormonal acne. My brothers, who are 16 and 13, respectively, have never had to deal with its presence, and my parents had encounters with it that were nothing but a mere fling in their teenage pasts. On the other hand, my tumultuous relationship with cystic acne has held strong for nine seemingly-never-ending years, from the time I was an Avatar the Last Airbender-obsessed seventh grader to now as I’m approaching the iconic age of 21 (officially an adult T_T).
There was time during college when my acne seemed like it would be gone for good, but a year later, the acne surely made a comeback in the form of the largest, most irritating and painful breakout ever, and until this very day, the thought of one day having the clear face I had a decade ago seems like a far-fetched miracle.
Even one red, pus-filled pimple just ruins the look of one’s entire face. That’s how ugly and conspicuous it is. My face could be entirely clear, but the appearance of just one small whitehead manages to steal the show. Talk about a confidence terminator. For nine years, all I ever wanted was for people to not notice the Himalayan mountain range of whiteheads lined up across my jawline.
And even pushing the ugliness of pimples aside, pimples are irritating. They feel itchy, they hurt, and it’s something that I have to feel on your face ALL THE TIME. No shit people who deal with acne have the unbearable urge to pop the pimples. I’ve all heard the warnings about how it will leave permanent scars on our face, but at the moment, when that disgusting red, bump has been staring at your face for three weeks, I couldn’t give less of a crap about scars if it means the instant satisfaction of seeing that pimple destroyed for once and for all. Every single day with acne was a struggle to go through my daily routine without having the urge to pop the pimples that crowded my face.
And believe me, I’ve heard all the advice that privileged people who aren’t acne victims have just had to bestow upon me regarding my acne. “You’re not washing your face correctly”, “Drink water to flush out your body’s toxins”, or my favorite, “You should try Proactive- I heard it does wonders” (The sham that is Proactive doesn’t do shit, by the way). I have tried every single cream/gel/wash/pill that is in the market and yet my acne has prevailed. My dermatologist has prescribed three to four treatments to take simultaneously, and while there’s always a glimmer of hope when a dermatologist prescribes something new, it always ends up doing absolutely NOTHING.
But the absolute worst part about having acne- and this is scientifically proven- is that it has to show up at the most inconvenient times. My face would be somewhat clearing up when I wouldn’t have anything better do but sit at home and watch Friends, but the minute I had a Sweet 16 to go to where half the grade including my crush at the time was coming- behold, three large pimples on my forehead. And no, makeup doesn’t really cover up anything.
The only thing that kept me hopeful during my teenage years was the notion that my skin would clear up once I came into my 20s and that people who struggle through acne in their early years have beautiful skin later on. However, like many things I have been told, that’s a huge lie because here I am almost a decade later with a face full of acne and those promises about having young skin later in life better be true because the thought of having shitty skin for my entire life brings me dread.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go check myself in the mirror to see if I’ve broken out more overnight.
Featured Photo Credit: By Norman Purvis Walker [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons