Let's be honest: we all have/had this problem. But it's the rare soul who suffers acne on a debilitating scale, and yet at the same time, not so rare. To those of you lucky folks who get by with an occasional pimple, here's the deal for the oily, inflamed crew: it hurts.
I think the worst part of severe acne isn't the embarrassment or the redness or the scarring. It's not the horror of oh, I look hideous.
It's the pain.
First, there's the pain of the swelling. You know it's coming, and you know it's going to be huge, but the only thing you can do is rub on cream and pray. Every time your facial muscles move, pain spasms down that area. Every time you rub your face, wash your face, dry your face, your clumsy fingers disturb the swelling and you feel like the high heavens are raining down their vitriolic curses onto that specific area of your face.
Ouch.
And then comes the pimple. It's Mouth Everest, the kind of mountain you don't dare to embark and conquer because the pain isn't just concentrated onto the bump, but the entire zone. For many people, this zone is commonly the nose. Which, as you know, is pretty much the worst thing possible since it technically is the facial appendage that sticks out the furthest.
Ah, pain.
I won't go into the next few stages, which are pretty gross. The pus, the scabbing, the leaking, the blood, the dead skin...let's fast forward to two weeks. Two weeks since the initial stage of the swelling. How is the pimple now?
My friend, it's still there. It's still leaking like a little volcano. It still hurts to touch. And you just know that in another two weeks, it's going to concave in and scar something terrible.
The worst part about this process is that it isn't just one pimple. It's the same little mountain, except it's everywhere. Across your cheeks, down your chin, in the corners of your forehead, between your eyebrows, ON your eyebrows...there comes a time when it hurts to talk. It hurts to lie on your side because of your cheeks. It just hurts.
My friend, you may not suffer from severe acne. But you probably know at least one or two people who do. Imagine a pimple. You surely must have had at least one in your life. Imagine the pain, the irritation, the concern, the embarrassment that follows the one pimple. Now imagine it multiplied by a ten-fold.
That's the life I, and many other unfortunate individuals, lead.
Unfortunately, acne is not considered a noble injury. It's not a tragic illness. It's the burden of countless teenagers across the globe, due to misfortune in genetics and (perhaps) hygiene. It is, unfortunately, one of my own physical burdens.
I've had a pretty stressful experience during high school, although I do consider myself lucky. An academically driven atmosphere has its rewards. However, my time in puberty while studying has taken a toll on my skin, and now I face a complicated truth.
While in Korea during the summer, I was able to visit the dermatologist. This was my first actual medical consultation, which might strike you as curious if my acne is as severe as I claim it to be. But alas, insurance is fickle and decides that the skin isn't life threatening. So Korea it is, a country where my first cousin once removed resides, a cousin who happens to run a skin clinic and give his distant American relations treatment for free.
Let me tell you something: there is no miracle cure. I've been hoping and hoping for one because of how long I've put off going to an expert, but my skin has not drastically improved. I still have my pimples.
I also have a regular medication schedule, which include pills before and after meals. If you know me and my horror of consistency, I am not exactly the greatest pill-taker.
So where does this bring me? To be honest, my skin is one of my biggest insecurities. There was a point in Korea (O Korea, the land of purity, of innocence, of drastically pale skin that's been done over in BB cream multiple times!) when I hated looking in the mirror. I still sort of do. I cried when I felt my skin break out all over again, after I'd been on pills for a week.
There is not exactly a moral to this. I have not gone into some peaceful acceptance of my skin, of some nirvana where appearances don't matter to me. I'm a teenager. How does that even work out?
But personality-wise, I also do have a breaking point. My skin is induced by bad genetics and raging hormones. Unless I decide to decode my DNA, it is what it is. People have burdens. One of mine just happens to be severe acne.
I'll still continue my pills. I'll still slather on benzoyl peroxide and eat less dairy (ice cream, sob). I'll still be hyper-paranoid of dirty pillows and towels. I'll still refuse to go anywhere near skin makeup.
My skin is still a concern. But if there's any consolation to this indisputable fact, it's that I'm either incredibly fortunate or unfortunate that it's hardly my biggest. I have other things to worry about.
Actually, now that I think about it, this is not a good thing.
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Do you have acne? What do you recommend for pimples?
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