I could write an entire book on acne. Not that I’m going to, of course. That’d be boring, and gross. Who would want to read about acne? In fact, for those feint of heart I recommend not reading any further because I’m going to try to dedicate this entire post to, you guessed right, acne.
Because it had a surprising amount of impact on me. Too much. I look back and think “wow”… Compared to how great I feel now, I really was miserable! I used topical acne-fighting products constantly (stupid Proactiv), and even resorted to taking a damn pill that I later found out could have removed all the hair from my body! Nothing seemed to work, and so my self-esteem plummeted. And kept on plummeting.
How bad could it get? I thought, before it did.
You look at the statistics and acne seems to be a common problem among people of all ages, especially teens, but I still felt like I was the only one because my acne was just so bad. Seriously, I didn’t just get pimples. I got pimples on top of pimples that merged with neighboring pimples to form hideous, beat red monstrosities. The worst one was on my right cheek, which virtually erased the precious dimple that would form and get me called “cute” all the time whenever I smiled.
My dimple was taken from me, robbed… by acne. Ladrón.
And part of my social life was robbed right along with it. Who would want to be my boyfriend now? I thought. The acne (finally) started to settle down during my sophomore of high school, but the damage had already been done.
To this day, that dimple doesn’t quite form like it used to due to the scarring — although I have too say my face has gotten a lot clearer, to the point where it is not the first thing anyone notices anymore. And now I realize that the only thing that could have fixed the problem was time. Perhaps it would have even went away faster if I hadn’t agitated it so much with countless amounts of chemicals, if I hadn’t picked it so much.
And perhaps my face wouldn’t be so damn sensitive now. To the sun, to the cold, to water. I don’t even soap my face in the shower now because the water dries it right up (ironically), sometimes to the point where it peels if I stay in for too long. Like dandruff, but on your face. Gross, right? Completely uncomfortable, too.
However, I remind myself that any and all bacteria on my face is also suffering, being starved of the greasy resources it needs to thrive, and I take comfort in the fact that I will never have acne problems again. And if I do happen to get a pimple or two, on the days that my sebaceous glands actually do decide to function properly, they will never last longer than a day. All I need is to add some water.
So, in the end, I got what I wished for. But at a price.
Anyway, the moral of the story is that you can never be satisfied. Lol… Because nothing, no one, is perfect. We just have to learn to work with what we got. It’s our best shot at happiness.
Great, now I feel like strutting.