Acne in my early twenties. Adult acne I suppose. But I don’t really feel like an adult. I feel like my acne keeps me rooted in my teens; the mislead days of Neutrogena pink grapefruit exfoliator and 15-year-old girls being convinced to start the Pill by GPs promising clear skin. Shudder. Thankfully, as I have gotten older my understanding of my skin and what works for me has progressed somewhat. But it’s still such a minefield!
For the duration of my teenage years my skin was relatively ‘normal.’ With only an occasional breakout or oily T-Zone, my insecurities surrounding my appearance did not stem from my skin. However, in the months leading up to my 18th birthday these occasional breakouts became more and more frequent. I kept telling myself “oh but when this one clears up, my skin will be clear again,” but by the time one had gone, three more had arrived, uninvited and unwilling to budge. Now I am not ashamed to say that many tears were shed over the decline of my pretty much perfect skin, resulting in a trip to a dermatologist, who, after trying to sell me an extortionately expensive cleanser (made by a company I’m 90% must have sponsored the doctor), prescribed me with a tube of Duac. Ahhh Duac, almost anyone who has been treated for acne will have, at some point, tried the infamous Duac. A steroid gel which, when used over a period of six months, can very effectively clear up your skin. However, speaking from personal experience, online reviews and general rumours, a frequent complaint is that after the six months, the skin returns to its former state: the same if not worse than before.
Unaware of all this, Duac and I got on immensely well, my skin (after its initial purging) cleared up, and I got my confidence back. This has been the state of things for the past few years, relatively clear skin with the odd breakout. Until recently. Recently, for whatever reason, my skin has decided to return to its former glory with consistent patches of acne on my forehead, chin and cheeks. Now, as a 20-something, I’m well versed in the unpredictability and up-and-down nature of the female body. Just when you think you’ve got a grasp of it, it throws you a curveball. For instance, my period, that I’ve had since I was 11 for 4 pain-free days every month, has, in the past year, been causing me the most excruciating stomach cramps, to the extent that I have no choice but to lie curled up on my floor and wait them out (oh the joys of being a woman!). So, I’m not searching for a recent change in my diet, sleep cycle or fluctuating hormones. I mean, I’m a student, my schedule is pretty all over the place in every aspect of life, but that’s no recent thing. Ultimately, I have acne prone skin, and I may always will. I don’t think that my friends who have and have always had entirely clear skin, can truthfully say that it’s because they sleep with a silk pillowcase which they wash every other day. It’s just biological. Which is what makes it so unfair!
The dialogue surrounding body positivity has changed so much in recent years, and I truly believe (or maybe hope) that our daughters will grow up in a wildly different, more accepting and diverse society that we have. However, the conversation surrounding acne, particularly as an adult, is relatively non-existent. My Instagram reels have been filled for the past year with girls showing off their ‘clean girl’ aesthetic. You know, the slicked back bun, claw clip, Ugg boot, puffer jacket, green smoothie and, most crucially, clear, glowing skin look. Despite my efforts to achieve this look, my skin will fundamentally never look like the even-toned, blemish-free (and maybe airbrushed) faces of the girls I see on my Instagram. Now, I’m not saying I believe everything I see on social media, but something about the emergence of the ‘clean girl’ aesthetic really feels like a stab in the chest for me. The emphasis on ‘clean,’ essentially implies that skin imperfections are unclean, they’re dirty.
In order to counteract the toxic influence of this aesthetic, and others similar, I’ve been looking at the social media pages of skin-positive influencers who talk openly about their experiences with acne and are campaigning to break the stigma surrounding skin imperfections. Accounts such as Lou Northcote (@lounorthcote on Instagram), who started the #FreeThePimple campaign, promoting skin positivity and opening up an honest conversation about acne. So, in a firmly anti-acne society, I have taken comfort in the brave souls who dare to share their experiences on social media. I’m not saying I wouldn’t prefer to have clear skin; the beauty industry would never permit my acceptance of my imperfections for what they are. But no longer am I a 17-year-old crying myself to sleep over what are, essentially, a few spots. Inevitably, I am still investing time and money into my skin, but as I have entered my twenties, I suppose something as external as a bit of acne seems much less daunting than it did to my insecure teenage self.