My least favorite four letter word...

ACNE.


Relax, you know I don't have a potty mouth :)


In all seriousness, I do believe this is the worst four letter word. EVER.

Had I known when I was a kid and my grandma told me to wash my face, that she knew what she was talking about, life may have been different. I mean, come on, obviously a nine year old has infinite wisdom in their not-even-a-decade of life experience, and knows more than some one at least 5 times their senior.  

What did I do?  I wet the rag, said I washed my face and went on my merry little way.  Playing is so much more fun than personal hygiene. Like it would have been much more effort to bring the rag to my face and swish.  You're right, too time consuming.  And like I said earlier, I knew everything and she didn't.

Let's fast forward a couple years, shall we?  Middle School.  Oh middle school, how I do not miss you at all.  With your name brand clothes and judgmental little midgets.  (No offense to dwarfs, I acknowledge your medical condition and mean no harm to you.)  What did I look like?  Hmm... glasses, crooked teeth, scrawny and inverted boobies (that's how non-existent they were.),  hairy legs because I was "too young" to shave, and oh yeah,  and I quote, "I had a million dots all over my face"... little kids can be so honest.  A little girls asked me why I had dots all over my face.  It's unrealistically unfair how badly my...shudder... acne was. 

Unfortunately, this was not the only time my elders were right and I was wrong.  Maybe a little bit of strenuous face washing would have conquered the hormone-induced braille on my forehead.  There was no "T Zone" for me.  It engulfed my face.

 I used every single acne treatment I could get my hands on!  I had a 30 minute routine, if my face didn't burn,  then something was not right. I remember one time I scrubbed my face so hard I scrubbed the skin off my forehead.  True story.  I didn't feel the burning sensation so I scrubbed till I "felt the bacteria dying" which goes back to my poor vision.  Had I had 20/20 vision like "Miss Popular" I may have realized I was scrubbing off at least the top three layers of my epidermis.  You might be thinking to yourself, well at least your scrubbed the acne off!  ... You would be incorrect, I only created a gross layer of oily skin to cover the top of my forehead since I had such a copious amount of oil to share :(  I do consider it a blessing that I didn't scar.  It may not have been so bad if I had bangs to cover the horror that was my forehead, but I tried cutting them myself the week before (poor vision, yet again)  and chopped them crookedly an inch from the base of my forehead.  Did I mention this was in middle school when everyone was sooo nice?

My only consolation was that one day when I grew up to be this gorgeous young lady that guys actually wanted to date and not just rough house, that the acne would go away.  I mean it was just a hormonal teenager thing that everyone goes through.  Yes, if I could just survive my teen years, the strange alien like "boys"  would mature, and my face would clear, and certainly I would look better as an adult.  Oh how I fantasized about what I would look like.  I was not thrilled with my current model and prayed the upgrade of age would be more promising.  I had lots of guy "friends" who considered me one of the guys, never the girl, like the girls they would talk about.  But in my mind, it was contact with the opposite sex that I otherwise would have never had.  Back on topic, so my acne... it was bad.  And of course, you should never pick or pop them... I have to confess, I have a secret addiction to popping my pimples.  I know it sounds gross but I know I'm not the only one.  Since I had such a vast canvas, I became very skilled and efficient in this art.  Almost like my own personal bubble wrap, but on my face.  Yes, just like that, same kind of addiction and same kind of satisfaction,  except it didn't make the bubble wrap popping noise.  That'd just be gross.

So here I am, 24 years old.  I've said good-bye to my teen years long ago, but here I am, with a magnified mirror that shows me just how wonderfully huge my pores really are!  Oh my gracious, and I'm still graced with this wonderful acne.  I am religious about my facial care and still, while not the severity of my younger days, it remains.  Just as frustrating as ever.  I've gotten close to clear a couple times, but there's always one tiny little bumpkin that chooses to sprout a ruin my perfect record.  Oh what I would give for a clear face and small pores!  Now my only consolation, is that my husband doesn't mind my pimple popping addiction since he also participates in a similar ritual.  I don't know what it is,  I'd gladly give it up, if they would just go away.  I'm all grown up, and things did pan out pretty good for me.... I've got a smoking hot husband, an adorable little girl, I did eventually get boobies and I'm almost back to my high school weight.  It's not all bad.  But the cursed 10x magnifying mirror in bathroom (which was the inspiration for this blog post)  haunts me.  It's love/ hate with my face.  I hide the mirror from myself, because my vision is still poor, so far away, maybe my face looks clearer... but then I feel a bump on my cheek... and it feels HUGEMONGUS... I must get a  closer look.  It's a wonker and thanks to the magnification, I can see all the hundreds of huge pores with black heads surrounding it.  Why do I even bother?  Maybe there's an AA meeting somewhere for people like me (Acne Anonymous and those who are addicted to popping them)

I guess it's just one of those things.  I guess since I'm tiny and look like a teenager, my body feels it must help keep up the act.  Niiice, thank you Body, you shouldn't have.  I can't tell you how many times I am out with Bella and people ask if I'm the babysitter.  Nope, she's my child, and I'm married. 

 (Side note:  When I was pregnant with Bella and was so swollen, I couldn't wear my rings anymore... people looked at me like a pregnant teenager with sorrowful and sometimes, judgmental eyes.  I want to go up to each one of them and say "I'm 23, married, and completely legal and capable of having a baby!  Don't look at me like that!"  It never helped when Mitch would always tell the cashiers, "We can't wait to see who the father of the baby is, I hope it's mine." ... that's just my husband, always the jokester,  and I'm just me... the blushing "teen mom look alike" Sweet memories.)

Here are some Now and Then pics for your viewing pleasure.  Some of you didn't believe me when I said I was an ugly duckling.

THEN

Ironically, my arms still look very similar

Just made cheerleading and celebrating...

These pics didn't quite do the "BEFORE" justice but it's all I could find on Facebook!

LATER

I wasn't lying... I treat and "Soulja Boi" at the same time

Care to play connect the dots on my face?

NOW... ish 

Got married to my Smokin' Hott husband :)

Life is pretty good. I love my family, and I love my life... Acne and all.

So moral of this post.... even though I'm closer to 30 than 18 and still have acne, my life has progressed quite a bit since middle school.  Acne is still a four letter word, but in the grand scheme, life's too awesome to let something like this weigh me down.  Then again, if I wake up tomorrow with a clear face, I won't complain either.