Acne, pimples, breakouts, trust me, I've been through it all. From the ripe age of 12, acne has never been a stranger to me. Up until this moment, the summer before my junior year, is when I've truly learned how to be comfortable in my own body and be okay with what reflects back at me in the mirror. What you will read next is something quite personal, an imitation story I wrote for my Honors English class as a sophomore, based on the book Eres Un Pocho. It will highlight the struggles I went through as a young, inexperienced girl, just hoping to be a normal.
"Just Wash Your Face"
"Just wash your face."
You are eleven.
The gentle breeze whispers of summer’s approach and the end of 5th grade. As you step into middle school, the thrill of saying "6th grade" will mark your growth and maturity.
You feel the glistening sunshine on your skin. The warmth of the rays as they touch your back and arms, while you run under the monkey bars during recess. Your hair is tied back into a ponytail and your white headband catch the sweat. Wiping it away brings a fleeting sense of childhood relief.
The feeling of no worries.
The feeling of no anxiety.
You face the sun with confidence, your skin and that of the other kids glowing. Everyone’s concerns are lost in the thrill of tag, with no one worrying about anything but who’s “It.” When the bell rings, you head back inside, sweat-soaked and red-faced, clothes drenched from the day’s play.
You turn on the tap water, specifically on the coldest setting. Using your hands you cusp a good amount of cold water in your hands and splash it onto your face. You dry off your face with paper towels and happily make your way back to your air-conditioned class. Your smooth, clear skin returns back to its normal color.
You look forward to tomorrow, eager to relive the carefree joy of being a kid.
"Just wash your face."
You are twelve.
As time progresses, you begin to notice small red bumps appearing here and there on your forehead. It’s awkward at first, but you don’t mind it as much since some of your friends are going through the same situation as you are. However, what once was smooth and clear of any redness is gone.
After school, you attend aftercare, the program for students unable to be picked up at 3:15. Here, you spend most of your time daily, from 3:15 PM to 7 PM.
You spend your time in the gym, where you and your friends play basketball with each other to make time go by. When the ball bounces off the rim and rolls away, whoever is nearby picks it up and passes it back.
Ben, standing side by side with the ball that rolled over his ankles, stood still. He ignores it, leaving you to retrieve it.
After you retrieve the ball, you notice him whispering to his friends. Though he may have thought you didn’t hear, his words pierce your heart.
“Why does she have so many pimples on her forehead?”
Something that you thought was normal to have, something you told yourself everyone goes through at least once in their life, suddenly disappeared in that moment. You question if this entire time, was everyone’s eyes really on those red bumps? You question if your red bumps were different than everyone else's. You wonder why your bumps keep coming back while others fade so easily. You start to question if there is something wrong with you.
At home, you turn to your mom for advice. She tells you to wash your face, reassuring you that the pimples will clear up and urging you not to worry. So you do. Except this time, you wash your face with soap and water. Maybe your skin is just oily and dirty from sweat. Your classmate’s words still lingering in your mind.
"Just wash your face."
You are 13.
You come home from your first visit at the dermatologist. Your mom insisted you get help from someone who is more educated, as the many facial washes and different store-bought medicines haven’t been of any help. It’s almost like the stress and insecurities you have accumulated have now rubbed off on her as well.
Your acne has spread to the cheeks of your face and the pimples on your forehead only seem to grow. You start feeling everyone's eyes on you.
You soon find solace in makeup.
First, you buy one concealer. You tell yourself that one product wouldn’t hurt, that you’ll wash your face everyday, twice a day, to make up for the chemicals you are putting onto your face.
With every coat of concealer you use to cover your acne, you find a new sense of confidence you haven’t felt in a while. This confidence stems from the ability to hide yourself from all the prying eyes, underneath the makeup.
However, you start to rely on more makeup to feel pretty. With each new product—mascara, blush, highlighter—you reassure yourself that just one more won’t hurt. Soon, you'll feel dependent on makeup everything you step out the house.
Your mom tells you to stop applying makeup everyday, as it only makes it worse. But you don’t listen to her, you’re too attached to the only thing that makes you feel pretty. Deep down, you know makeup is only making things worse, no matter how much you try to deny and justify it.
It’s not just your acne that you are ashamed of now. You start picking out details of your face that you feel as though they just don't belong. You question why your eyelashes aren’t longer, why your nose lacks a bridge, or why your face is so round.
You’ll come home everyday and listen to your mom constantly reminding you to wash your face to get all the makeup off.
Everyone tells you to just wash your face, as if you haven’t tried that and everything else. Your mom repeatedly asks if you’ve used your medication morning and night, her reminders blurring the line between care and pity.
Sometimes, you feel as though she just doesn’t understand. You’ll find it so unbelievably unfair that you are going through all of this pain, while most girls your age are stressing about one pimple they got overnight. You find yourself questioning what you did to deserve this.
"Just wash your face."
You are 14.
You’ll start your freshman year of high school. A school like a mosaic, rich with diverse backgrounds and stories. A tough reality where many have faced struggles as deep as or deeper than your own. You'll learn that almost everyone has something to be insecure about. If this reality wasn’t new to you before, it sure was now.
You’ll notice people with scars on their arms, wearing dozens of bracelets to cover them up. They, too, feel everyone’s eyes on them.
You’ll notice other kids coming to school in baggy clothes every single day, even though the classrooms feel as though the sun is in the room with us. They’ll keep their head down and will barely say 2 words.
You’ll hear the loud, confident students yelling down the hallway or their quick, snark remarks when they hear something they don't like. You’ll assume they don’t have any insecurities. They seem to be perfectly fine, how could they be self-conscious?
But you'll soon notice their flaws. They’re just as self conscious as everyone else. They’ll always worry about their appearance or how others perceive them. They just hide it better.
You’ll think back to 5th grade, when everything seemed so much easier. Maybe people were always talking about you, maybe they always had something to say, but this never affected you. You never had to think twice before raising your hand because you think it’ll be dumb. You never had to step outside of the classroom to just blow your nose.
Growing up changes people. It changes how you look physically, and how you think mentally.
With spring's arrival, you'll face daily outdoor physical education. As the sun blazes down, you’ll avoid looking at it, fearing it will expose every imperfection you’ve tried to hide. You’ll shun all bright lighting, clinging to shadows that mask your scars.
This is something you’ve learned to just accept.
"Just wash your face."
You are 15 years old.
It is August 2023, a month before sophomore year begins, you’ve tried countless medications without success. After quitting makeup in June, you’re hoping your acne will clear up before school resumes in the fall.
You’ve just been prescribed Accutane by your dermatologist.
A new journey.
A journey with much hope.
Lingered by fear.
Will this new medication only worsen your acne? Will it simply join the list of six other products that never worked out for you?
You learn you must get a blood test every month, as well as a pregnancy test because it’s crucial to know that these drugs aren’t harming your body.
Your parents worry, anxious of how this drug will affect my body.
Your brother, now 13, is starting to develop acne. Your mother not only reminds you to wash your face every night but also advises him. She compares his skin to yours, warning him not to forget his routine.
“Just like your sister’s.”
These words will cut deep, though she isn’t aware of it. You just remind yourself that all she has is love for you.
However, you are tired of the constant reminder that your face will never be clear again. This is something that you’ll slowly learn to embrace over time.
You’ll learn to love your inner beauty, qualities, and accomplishments, rather than dwell on your outer appearance. You’ll learn that your flaws and insecurities don’t define you as a person, but only make you stronger. You’ll know that you are not alone in this journey and that there are others out there who are going through the same thing as you.
You’ll understand your acne won’t go away within one night, but that it’ll take time and there is no rush. You'll stop getting mad at yourself for something you have no control over.
You’ll turn on the tap water, specifically on the coldest setting. Using your hands you cusp a good amount of cold water and splash it onto your face. Gazing in the mirror, you remind yourself everyday that you are okay.
I am 16 now. It's been a year since my first prescription of Accutane and a month after my last dose. My skin is clear of acne, yet there are still imperfections in my face. My deep scars and blemishes serve as a reminder of how far I've come. I view my scars as symbols of resilience and progress, rather than flaws to be criticized. This experience has shown me that genuine beauty originates from within, nurtured by resilience, self-love, and the acknowledgment of one's imperfections. My scars are not sources of shame but rather symbols of honor, demonstrating the inner strength that guided me through my adolescence years with appreciation and certainty.
this is so beautiful diamond!!