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Oh hey, these are back
Acne has always been one of my greatest insecurities.
I’ve had it since I was 11 (isn’t puberty just glorious), which by this point is over half of my life. I think knowing that a lot of it was hormonal made my teenage years really easy–that it wasn’t necessarily my fault, that it’s partially genetic, that both my parents had it and outgrew it, that it will work itself out without the need for a dermatologist.
Because there was something about the prospect of my skin being so bad that I needed medical intervention from a specialist that absolutely crumbled my teenage self-esteem.
Also, because dermatologists are expensive as all hell, and I didn’t consider my skin changes to be severe enough to cough up the cash.
It didn’t mean I tried nothing for it. I’ve tried a variety of options from my primary care physicians, from topical gels to emulsions, to getting a very nasty burn with Retin-A. I’ve tried home remedies of lime juice and honey, rice/starch water rinses, aloe vera masks. I’ve had cycles of my acne waxing and waning – never totally clearing – but it works “well enough” that I was never distressed about it as a teen. (If anything, my mom was more distressed than I was.)
And it worked well enough throughout middle and high school. My skin had never cleared, but I didn’t feel insecure enough to wear foundation. I remember thinking that I didn’t want to hang around people who would’ve judged me for my appearance anyway – that I wanted people to remember me for doing well, for being kind, for having a sense of humor. (Turns out people just remembered me for being quiet and mildly intimidating, but that works too, I guess.) And I was extremely fortunate to have friends who didn’t appear to care, and while I never forgot that I had acne, it never weighed me down.
College was interesting, and it was also the first time where I felt socially pressured to cover my imperfections. I began to realize that I didn’t want to risk talking to someone and having him/her be distracted by my face rather than my words. I didn’t want to be perceived as “less professional” because of my acne because whether I agreed with it or not, appearances matter in the working world. (It was also around this time when I had occasional “flares” and learned that yes, perhaps a product can break me out beyond my baseline).
I bought my first face make-up product (Skin79 Pink BB Cream) as a sophomore in college, and I still remember what my mom said when she saw me that weekend: “You skin looks a lot better! Did you try anything new?”
Yes, I covered it up.
On one hand, it was so nice to hear her compliment my skin because in a way because it told me this is the potential I could reach. On the other, it hurt. It hurt because it reaffirmed how much appearances matter, and that mine had not done me any favors.
That interaction wasn’t enough to get to be cave and see a dermatologist, but I did start wearing that BB cream regularly. And things moved along pretty swimmingly throughout college.
During my first year of medical school, those insecurities returned full force when my acne decided to become cystic. I never figured out what triggered everything. Maybe it was the new climate, or the stress, or the pizza-with-every-student-org-meeting diet, but the pimples that had formed deep under my skin (the ones that I could never extract given their depth) wanted to all party at once. Although my BB cream had never perfectly covered my blemishes, it never made my attempts look so…pathetic. My parents had expressed concern over winter break, but I had waved it off saying it was likely hormonal (and to be fair, I think it partially was).
Everything came to a head when I decided to take pictures and document my skin progress before splurging on a haul of Korean skincare products.
(Photos included in full post. Click to read more.)
Looking at those photos was the first time I had actually cried about my skin, and the insecurities came crashing down because I realized that I had made a lot of decisions based on my appearance.
Like postponing or refraining from contacting potential PIs out of fear that I didn’t look “professional” enough if my skin decided to freak out again.
Or crossing out specialties like dermatology or plastic surgery entirely before I fully explore them because I don’t fit the stereotype of perfect skin and wouldn’t that be ironic. (Also, the concept of dermatologists having perfect skin really bugs me, but that’s a separate post entirely).
Or going from feeling mild discomfort when I go grocery shopping without make-up to being very uncomfortable.
Or feeling that I wasted my money on lip products because anything I apply would only draw attention the cystic acne on my chin.
Perhaps one of the greatest mishaps of 2017 was when I posted on the Asian Beauty subreddit in hopes of recruiting participants for a research study. The participants in the forum didn’t match my target sample at all, but I became intrigued by the products and philosophy of their skincare regimen. After doing some more research on the topic, I decided “why the hell not” and purchased several products:
- CosRx Good Morning Low pH Cleanser
- CosRx AHA 7 Whitehead Power Liquid
- CosRx BHA 4% Blackhead Power Liquid
- CosRx Advanced Snail 96 Mucin Power Essence
My reaction to that “baseline” set of cell phone photos reaffirmed my decision to try it.
And all I can say is…wow.
Changes were slow, and during that first month, everything burned. AHA was not friendly, and definitely induced some purging. Everything was new and exciting, and I felt that gradually, things were getting better. To be safe, I also began replacing cow’s milk with soymilk, although I was never frankly lactose intolerant. About 6 months into the process, I decided to go the gym and try to make other lifestyle changes (because Reddit is a deep, deep hole and its sub-forums will empower you to do anything.)
It’s now almost a year and a half later, and I’m finally at a point when I need to consider reordering skincare products. I took another photo today for comparison purposes, and it’s hit me how much my skin has improved. Mind you, it still isn’t clear – my chin acne remains hormonal, I get a cystic pimple every month or so, and a smattering of whiteheads at any given time – but it’s so much better. My hyperpigmentation scars are fading, I try to wear no face make-up on weekends unless I’m going out, and I’m more comfortable with taking photos with friends.
Maybe I’m finally “growing out of it.”
Maybe it was all lifestyle.
Maybe it was because I tried moisturizing my skin instead of drying it out with Mario Badescu and its generic counterparts.
Maybe it was me finding worth in other aspects of myself and not allowing my insecurities to throw other opportunities away.
This is still a work in progress, and I’ve opened up to the idea of seeing a dermatologist for the final stretch if it fits into my schedule. But I’m no longer distressed about my skin, and I trust that things will be okay. I trust that I am more than how my skin decides to act on a weekly basis, and that this, too, shall pass.
