By Jacklyn Gilmor
In virtually every coming-of-age movie, along with the Queen Bee and the Hot Jock, there is a stereotypical āLoserā with a blotchy, pimple-spotted face. This character is usually viewed as gross and untouchable,Ā unattractive and unimportant. They may even be nerdy, which makes them even more of a target for the casual insults tossed around by the glowing, clear-faced popular characters.
I always felt a little like that character.
Iāve had inflammatory acne for almost ten yearsāsince grade fourāand Iām now nineteen. Itās not showing any signs of clearing.
I used to hate my face
I used to look at my face in the mirror and cringe. I would pick at it and pull at the skin because I just wanted to get rid of it, and I hated how my face was a sea of red bumps. Was I ugly? Was I that loser in the movies that everyone thought was gross and untouchable?
It was awful. I had (and still have) every kind of pimple under the sun: blackheads scattered across my cheeks and nose, whiteheads rising under my cheekbones, painful red bumps on my jawline, scars littering my forehead and chinā¦ I thought there was no way I could be considered pretty with all that tainting my features.
Iāve tried virtually everything: creams and exfoliants and face washes galore. Iāve used coconut oil. I wash my face twice a day. But it seems to be a hormonal problem, so I donāt think thereās anything I can do about it. In my high school years I discovered makeup, and although it didnāt completely hide the fact that I had acne, it did a decent job of making it look less red andāas I saw itāmade me appear more attractive.
I thought if I just wore the foundation and concealer, Iād be halfway normal, and no one would ever have to see the hideous marks in their full, painful glory. I couldnāt leave the house without a full face of makeup.
Plot Twist
I am beautiful.
At some point, I realized that my acne was here to stay, and I decided to change my perspective. It wasnāt really an exact point in time, but more of a process wherein I decided that I wasnāt going to be ashamed of something that was a part of me, that I couldnāt change. I began to look in the mirror and focus on the features that I liked instead of allowing myself to see only what I hated. Exhibit A: my eyes. Iāve always thought I had nice eyes, big and framed with long lashes. So I put on some mascara and strutted my stuff. Exhibit B: my smile. Sometimes I smile too much, but itās okay; I decided I had a nice set of teeth and a happy grin, so maybe I should smile more often. I was more than the series of pimples that dots my face, and I needed to realize that. After a while, I noticed that others saw that too. Iād catch a cute guy looking at me when I wasnāt wearing any makeup sometimes, or Iād get someone I just met telling me I looked pretty.
A Newfound Confidence
So some days, I donāt even wear makeup. None. No mascara, and especially no concealer on my pimples and scars. Surprisingly, I find that I feel more confident without it, because if I can bare my true face, acne scars and all, to the world, then I can do anything.
I went down to my universityās cafeteria the other day, having been in my room all afternoon working on an assignment. I had my hair in a messy bun, my glasses on instead of contacts, and definitely no makeup. As I stood in front of the glass partition to the kitchen, deciding between empanadas and stir fry (“be healthy,” I was telling myself, but the empanadas looked SO good), the older lady serving me smiled. She had the sweetest eyes. āI wish I still looked like you,ā she said. āYou have a beautiful young face.ā Her words almost brought me to tears. Even though I had decided that I could go bare-faced in public, I still have moments of self-consciousness. I still go through periods where I get an especially nasty breakout and doubt my own attractiveness. But that one little compliment changed my day. I was reminded again that I am more than my skin condition, that I have so many parts of myself to be proud of.
Itās a Part of You
Acne isnāt something to be ashamed of. It doesnāt make people cringe away from you, and certainly doesnāt make you ugly. Itās a battle you go through sometimes, and it makes you tough. So when youāre scrubbing away in frustration with that hundredth bottle of face wash thatās supposed to do wonders, remember this: you are gorgeous. Your acne does not define you, it is simply a part of you, and you notice it more than anyone else.Ā
To sum it up: you are tough, you are unique, and you are beautiful. And maybe you have acne. Accept it, and embrace it, because your life will be so much better for it. Believe me, I know.