More Stupid Than the Others

In my previous post I was bashing the beauty or alleged beauty of Kate Moss who lets herself be filmed for an Agent Provocateur video as if she was a lifeless puppet or something. That might be fashion nowadays. If this had been Romania, my inbox would be filled with hateful comments, that I must be fat and full of spots, a jealous cow and so and so on, hence I find supermodels unattractive. Well, no, not all of them, I just like women that still know what common sense is, whether in their fashion sense or choice of boyfriends. That is all.

So to fuel this idea in case someone comes along, I do have spots. In fact so many of them it’s called acne vulgaris, or it used to be called that years ago when I first got them! I didn’t get them in my early teens and no one really bullied me about them because everyone had them, except everyone else got rid of them, I didn’t. I’ve heard stories of ‘we all develop differently’ ever since companies like Tampax and such had inductions in schools where they gave us booklets saying ‘it’s what’s on the inside that matters’ and that every woman is different from the other, our breasts don’t grow the same, that maybe mine WILL be pear shaped and my friends’ breasts will be as huge as melons yadda yadda. You know, that kind of thing, if we want to talk about sex we shouldn’t be ashamed. You must know that joke where the teenager’s obvious reply is ‘what do you want to know?’.

Pretty, airbrushed women.

Anyway, on the subject of spots, this entry should have been called ’story of someone that’s never been pretty’ but then it sounds like one of those ‘remind me again why I need a man’ novels. People usually say they’re a thing of age and they’ll be gone by the time I’m 21 or 22. Being too vain, superficial etc. to believe that, me being 22 sounds like eons away as I’m only turning 19 this month. Three more years? With these on my face? What, do I want to look like I’m 16 even when I can drink legally in the US? Had I been a fan of this emo movement, I would have killed myself in despair that my face looks like a mined field when it so wishes to.

Strangely enough, things that have happened and that we never talk about on the internet because they’re, uh, private, but these are quite public as they’re on my face so it can’t get more obvious than that:

• Years ago I got bruised when I was involved in this small accident that had me and a tree as main characters, I ended up with something on my forehead that was believed to be a spot, instead was a benign tumor hiding under my skin. Undergone plastic surgery and removed it, no harm done.
• I have patiently tried Clearasil, Garnier, L’Oreal, Clean & Clear, Avene, Clarins, Biotherm, Uriage, Dr. Murad, Korres and Guinot skin care treatments. It goes without saying it’s not because I don’t take care of my skin or touch my face all day, right? I don’t. Nothing helped.
• Step no.2 was to see a doctor, naturally. You’d think he or she will take a look at your face and say ‘yes, this is your skin type, this is what you should try.’ That never worked. On the second visit they took a blood sample to make sure there’s nothing wrong coming from there. Negative. Third visit I was asked to undergo a gynaecological examination and take a pregnancy test to make sure I didn’t suffer from something called polycystic ovary syndrome. Just as negative! So I got a contraceptive pill instead, it must be from the hormonal imbalance. Guess what! No! One year of treatment with no success. Doctor = ???
• I got random alternative therapies and treatments consisting of face masks, acupuncture (yes, when you’re desperate and your face feels as if it was the rubber on a stretched balloon you care to try) and various other holistic remedies.No, my acne has a mind of its own I suppose. Frustration time. The only thing that seemed to work on my face was the Harrogate Sulphur Soap. The most bloody amazing thing to ever come out of Yorkshire, seconded only by tea.

Had we been in My Super Sweet Sixteen, I would have told my dad ‘YOU ARE RUINING MY LIFE OH MY GOD’ even though it wouldn’t have been his fault. But no…when you’re this desperate, nothing in the world works. Women telling you that “you’ll get spots even when you’re 30 every now and then” means absolutely nothing. A Garnier ad with a Swedish blonde with flawless skin and just one tiny spot might breathe ‘pure’ out of every pore as far as the brand is concerned but you’re telling me fuckall. Your product stings and is sticky too, by the way. It’s in the ‘consumer products’ category as opposed to the luxury division (Vichy) in the L’Oreal portfolio.

Yeah I wouldn’t mind a spot or two on my face but this is a tad too much. People are understanding, yes, but deep inside their understanding souls, they’re really happy it’s not their face!

What’s waiting for me.

So at the end of it all my doctor left me with two choices: wait and see if they go away but I will most likely end up with a scarred face, having to resort to plastic surgery OR go through a process called dermabrasion where you literally shed your skin and get a new layer. So if I do it will happen some time this summer and hopefully I won’t die! Now excuse me while I go stuff myself on chocolate so I can be both fat and full of spots.