Basically, I've been fighting a losing battle against mild acne - or so I wish to call it because the search engine Google seems to agree with my depressing dilemma - since my very spot was squeezed at the age of eight, fretting over the monstrous sight of large spots bumpier than a pot hole-infested road spreading across the tedious T-\zone and failing to find that all-important cure which would hopefully make my blemish-related problems disappear into a smooth, healthy complexion.
I know that almost all teenagers go through the same situation to a less or greater extent during puberty - of course, my dermatology-obsessed self ought to realize that since coming across a survey revealing that only 15% or less of teens get away from the harmful perils of acne scot-free - but nothing can take away the agony which we face whenever we casually roll out of bed and are horrified by a dozen of newly-planted spots assuming control over your once-handsome face? Sure, I may still get up extra-early before the sun rises to get ready for lessons almost every morning, yet this practice doesn't lessen my horror as I catch a darkened glimpse of my red-faced complexion in the bathroom; even as I cleanse my face with water, my cloth-protected fingers are still able to feel the bumpiness of the inflamed skin, rather like trekking upon a mountain with tons of solid, uneven rocks in a pair of flat-soled Converse.
Regardless of what my eyes may see, instinct still knows that the problem continues to persist like an relentless backache or constant screening of a yawnful football match on TV, and for ages I've been feeling a whole lot worse about it because everything I do to help and sooth the infection is always incapable of being sorted out. Until a while ago, frustration had all but become a constant role in my everyday life as my mild acne - which had set up home on my chin and mouth, having moved out of my now lump-free forehead months before - seemingly worsened, despite my attempts to come across the magical cure which only existed within my wildest (and spot-free) dreams.
Last summer, desperation had a tighter grip than ever before as I resorted to the unknown diet of giving up cows' milk in favour of a dairy-free option, in the hope of giving my skin a break from the supposedly high amount of female hormones found in a typical glass of calcium-rich milk. Perhaps I should've waited until the usual heat surrounding a sweltering summer's day had come to a relievable end before giving up cows' milk because, in hindsight, my skin always had a tendency to worsen during higher temperatures due to the excessive amount of oil being produced - yet this five week-long experiment led to no improvements and I was reintroduced to cows' milk without any problems, though I cannot entirely regret the failed attempt as almond milk has since become a firm favourite of mine (if the hefty price tag doesn't produce a gasp of shock from my lips, that is).
Shortly afterwards, I swapped my original skincare brand - tea tree-oil based Australian Bodycare (ABC) - to Witch, on the basis of the fairly successful results I had achieved with the witch hazel stick which managed to dry out and stabilize the condition of my skin to certain extent for several years. For a while, I began to feel more positive about my skin as it appeared to calm down (as did my torrentous moods, which were partly associated with my spotty issues) and the mild acne gave the impression of settling down, but it quickly became clear that my skin wasn't getting any better as I placed my hopes upon. Again.
Although thousands of questions may be swirling like a stick of candyfloss inside your mind, I reckon that you're dying to ask whether I ever made an appointment with a doctor to reach some sort of conclusion with the matter because it certainly was spiralling out of my control, declaring all of my hard-worked efforts a complete waste of time. The answer? No, I never even contemplated about visiting the local doctors' surgery as it was fairly simple to predict the oh-so-heavenly-cure - I'd be handed a box of acne-suppressing drugs or placed onto a course of antibiotics, along with a hefty bill for my 'life-changing' treatment.
Really, I needn't have thought twice about it because it simply wasn't an option for me; in recent months, so-called 'revolutionizing' acne drugs have been linked to depression amongst teenagers and, in the most dreadful cases, the taking of one's life. Considering that I had a tendency to sink into the gloomy realms of spot-related blues, using a drug which could have potentially accelerated my moodiness wasn't a risk that I was willing to take; plus, the ingredients have been commonly linked to the weakening of one's immune system, opening a whole can of worms which could affect one's health for a lifetime. So, would I truly fancy an unpleasant trip to a doctor and a prescription to illness-related acne drugs? No thanks!
Just like my usage of mineral make-up, I intended to remain loyal to the most natural remedies available on the market which, to my disappointment, were only loaded with the complete opposite of what I'd been looking for - a 'miracle' facial scrub with a nationwide TV campaign, anyone? From the contents of a packet of artificial-free rice to the colourings used in my favourite lipstick, I'm obsessed with ingredients in basically anything I can get my hands on and skin care suited to my oiler-than-a-deep-fried-doughnut skin was no acception! But I was only faced with more feelings of disappointment as my 24/7 search on natural, blemish-reducing products didn't result into anything, sadness hitting me a vicious wave almost all the time. As everybody else I saw carried on leading their lives without a hint of a red mark putting a damper on their happiness, I grew unhappier with my complexion, which greatly affected the confidence I had left after going through hell and back during my agonizing years as an acne-suffering teenager.
That is until my mum - ever so quick with finding helpful results on the internet - made a remarkable discovery one evening last week, introducing two familiar ingredients into my life who have quickly become trustworthy friends. Of course, many of you may not even offer the informal title of a pal towards ingredients which you regularly consume - I should know as I talk about both of them all the time - but since trying them out on my face seven days ago, my mild acne has all but faded into smaller, less angrier marks and given me what I'd set my hopes upon for years: myself.
Yes, I've enjoyed myself and have experienced the uplifting joys of being immersed in happiness, yet deep down every single spot - whether it had been painfully squeezed and given the opportunity to fade away or still persisted - had left a semi-permanent mark within myself because I could never run away from the problem lying beneath my lumpy and ugly-looking complexion. You see why teenagers struggle to contain their emotions and stay as sane as possible on a daily basis? Alongside dealing with the unavoidable hassles of growing up and being given pile loads of responsibilities at once, falling prey to acne doesn't help us one little bit, so I truly believe that our generation ought to be given some slack when it comes to coping with difficulties on both the outside and, most importantly, the inside.
Since my skin has given spectacular hints at clearing up for good, not a single thing can wipe away the ecstatic smile tugging away on my lips - rather like getting an A+ in an English essay, I feel utterly elated! If only people were willing to accept the emotional trauma which comes with years of acne problems, as it is something which needs to be understood on a higher level; although I wouldn't classify myself as undeniably vain (unless an unwashed mane of greasy locks are in question), my heart would break into tiny pieces at the sight of a face which I couldn't associate with my own. It seemed wrong that my skin was turning against me and failing to respond to the numerous treatments - from giving up cows' milk to swapping brands, I've done it all - I'd tried, so now part of myself cannot quite believe the wonderful spectacle of smooth skin radiating in front of my bedazzled eyes. A dream come true? I certainly think so!
So, I'm probably correct in guessing that you are bursting with impatience to find out my oh-so-fabulous secret to gaining the skin of your dreams, am I not? OK, I won't keep you in agony for a moment longer as I'm also dying to unveil my life-changing discovery, especially as I only wish to spread the joys of an acne-free teenage life! My little secret? Use a teaspoon each of good-quality honey and ground cinnamon into a little bowl, stir together thoroughly then apply onto your face for ten minutes before rinsing it off. 'Simple' is likely to be the first word to spring to mind, so I believe, and it honestly is! Not only does honey help inflamed skin, it helps to keep it moisturized whilst the cinnamon is a match made-in-heaven - believe me, you couldn't possibly find a more natural alternative which would offer the same desired results!
As I reach the end of writing this post, I feel a lot happier than I did over an hour ago. Having discussed and put away my spotty problems for once and for all, now I'm truly able to appreciate life for what it stands without an unwanted blemish preventing me from having a great time. Acne? That was so last week!
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