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I remember the day I took these pictures. I remember the days before I took them. I remember the days after.
I was in the bathroom. I had just finished crying another round of tears. Before this day, I had been crying nonstop for about three days. I was crying because of acne.
I was in the bathroom. I had just finished crying another round of tears. Before this day, I had been crying nonstop for about three days. I was crying because of acne.
I was depressed. My parents were so afraid for me. My parents’ friends were afraid for me.
Everyone knew me as a happy person, who took things in stride and wasn’t bothered about anything. Yet here I was, weeping nonstop. I wasn’t eating, I wasn’t sleeping, I wasn’t going out.
Everyone knew me as a happy person, who took things in stride and wasn’t bothered about anything. Yet here I was, weeping nonstop. I wasn’t eating, I wasn’t sleeping, I wasn’t going out.
Before this particular period when I finally broke down, I’d stopped looking at my face in mirrors. I’d stopped wearing makeup because I thought it looked disgusting on me. I’d stopped talking to people who weren’t already close friends because I felt all they saw was acne.
I’d stopped taking pictures. I’d stopped consuming dairy. I’d been drinking about 5 liters of water a day. I had tried every remedy under the sun.
I had also started reading voraciously. You see, when you have acne, the concept of beauty, -of your own beauty- eludes you.
I had also started reading voraciously. You see, when you have acne, the concept of beauty, -of your own beauty- eludes you.
I began to think that if I made up for my ugliness by being smart, fun, and driven, no one would notice. I promised myself that I didn’t care that I was ugly and all the other things I did made up for it. I threw myself into personal development, fitness, everything.
A little backstory here: I have three sisters, and they’re all very very beautiful. I’d heard them be called ‘beautiful’ so often by the same people who only called me ‘smart’, and ‘outspoken’.
I’m also the only one of my parents’ five children who uses glasses.
I’m also the only one of my parents’ five children who uses glasses.
I’d asked my parents to get me contacts so that I’d be a little more confident. Not just a nerdy looking pimply ugly child. They got the contacts but that didn’t fix my self esteem.
Every where I went, I noticed skin textures. It was the first thing I saw.
Every where I went, I noticed skin textures. It was the first thing I saw.
I never showed my face in pictures because, well, nothing to see here. I hated people randomly taking pictures of me. I hated people staring at me. I still don’t make eye contact, to this day.
The point is, acne is damaging. It’s such a terrible thing to experience.
The point is, acne is damaging. It’s such a terrible thing to experience.
There’s so much more I have to say but this thread is long and so personal, so maybe some other time.
These things and so many others are the reasons I’d forever be an acne activist. Please, be kind to people with acne. If you’re not sure how to be kind, I’ll link the thread.
These things and so many others are the reasons I’d forever be an acne activist. Please, be kind to people with acne. If you’re not sure how to be kind, I’ll link the thread.
