Back in high school, when most people were battling blemishes with Oxy Pads and Clearasil, I was one of the lucky ones. I might have had a zit once in a blue moon, but for the most part, I didn’t even wear make-up. In fact, I had pretty perfect skin through high school and college, right up until I turned 25. And then seriously, days, hours, after my birthday, my face exploded.
I’m not being overly dramatic. I became a victim of adult acne. Now, at the time, I was in the midst of a living nightmare. I’m not being overly dramatic about that either. When I explained what I was dealing with during that time of my life to my therapist, he practically choked. (No lie.) On top of the acne, my hair starting falling out in big clumps and I lost 10 pounds. (Okay, I was happy about the weight loss, but still…) I thought, “It’s the stress.” Well, four years later, it’s worse than that: I have the face of a sixth-grade boy.
Thank God I got bangs. They are the only reason I can leave the house in the morning. And bless sweet baby Jesus for mineral make-up. But this does not change the fact that I cannot, absolutely cannot, get my skin to get clear up. I have exfoliated, moisturized, toned, researched cleansers. I am fighting a losing battle. At almost 30, I am dealing with something that most people finished with 15 years ago. I’m going to just say it: it’s just not fair.
In the midst of my quarter-life crisis, I would really love to not worry about my complexion. I’m going to say a little prayer tonight:
Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my zits to keep.
If I should die before I wake,
I pray I look good for my wake.