NYC-Feature Story

Clearing Up My Acne—and My Self-Esteem

By Anita Ames

(Names have been changed.)

“SpongeBob SquarePants! Sandpaper face!” Every morning, I woke up afraid of what the kids at school would call me that day because of my acne. A feeling of betrayal would come over me yet again as I looked in the bathroom mirror and saw that the latest product I’d tried wasn’t working. Then I’d get dressed, grab my book bag and head off to 4th grade.

My face started breaking out when I was 9 years old. I heard teenagers on TV raging over their acne, but I didn’t know anyone my age who had it. I wondered why I was getting massive breakouts at such a young age. Was I not washing my face enough throughout the day? Was it because I drank soda? My mom told me I must be going through puberty early. But my older sister had gone through puberty and she’d never had acne.

The way I looked was bad enough, but it wasn’t only my face that was changing. I felt myself changing inside, too. Before I had acne, what I looked like never seemed important to me. But now, I felt ugly and disgusted with myself. I became self-conscious, always on guard against what people might think of me. I began to see the world as a mean, judgmental place.

An Insecure Belonging

I felt alone with all these feelings, especially when my classmates teased me about my acne. One day, Robert, the class clown of my 4th grade class, came over during snack time and tapped my shoulder. “Can I have a slice of your pizza face?” he said.

Everyone laughed, including me. I wanted to make it seem as though it didn’t bother me. But really I wanted to get up and punch him in the face so he’d feel as hurt as I did.

Instead of hitting him, I decided to try to take everyone’s attention off me by focusing it on someone else. “So? Look at Jason,” I said. “He’s so black you can’t even see him at night.” Everyone laughed and I felt happy because the heat was off of me. I was on a roll now. “And Jasmine got left back mad times. She was here with Rosa Parks,” I said.

Jasmine just gave me a blank stare. I guessed that she was angry, confused and sad—that was the way I felt when I got teased. But secretly, I was happy to make someone else feel bad for a change.

When I got teased about my face, I felt like a statue that was getting laughed at, because I couldn’t do anything about it. Being the one to make fun of someone else’s appearance made me feel like I belonged for a moment. But it was an insecure belonging. I knew that at any moment during snack time or recess, that feeling could be taken away.

I felt like I could only get the teasing to stop if I could fix my skin problem. That’s when the skin products started coming. All through 4th grade—Noxzema, Neutrogena, Differin gel, even stuff from the dermatologist—I tried it all. But nothing worked, and slowly I began to lose hope.

Not Worthy of Nice Things

For the next few years, I had to live with my acne and with my low self-esteem. While other girls were starting to get into fashion, I didn’t place any emphasis on my wardrobe and how I looked. I just didn’t care about myself. I felt I was ugly and not worthy of nice things.

Then, one day in 7th grade, I was at my math tutor Brian’s house and we saw an ad on TV for Proactiv, a non-prescription acne treatment. I’d been seeing ads for Proactiv on TV and in magazines since 5th grade. They always showed “before” pictures of people with really bad acne, even worse than mine. The “after” pictures showed the same people with clear faces and smooth skin. I’d always wanted to try it, but you had to order it with a credit card. My mom didn’t have one, so I was out of luck.

The Magic Words

Brian and I watched the commercial in silence. Brian was in 11th grade, and he was always understanding and gave good advice. I felt like I didn’t have anybody to talk to about my acne besides my mom, who always just told me to watch what I ate and wash my face thoroughly. I decided to tell Brian about my problem.

“You know, I’ve been struggling with acne for years,” I said nervously.

To my surprise, he said, “Yeah, it’s hard dealing with acne, especially when you don’t have anyone you can relate to.” He told me that he’d been struggling with acne for five or six years. I was surprised because his face was so clear.

Then he said the magic words that changed everything: “I have some extra Proactiv.” Not only had I found someone who understood, but I could finally try Proactiv for free.

I Wanted Those Pimples Gone

Brian reached under his bed and pulled out a square box that read, “Proactiv Solution.” He opened it and I saw three bottles, along with pamphlets that he told me to read. I couldn’t have been more excited.

The instructions said to use the three different products twice a day. First I had to put the cleanser on my face for about two minutes. Then I had to apply the toner, and last was the lotion to moisturize my skin. The whole process took about seven or eight minutes in the morning and the same at night. But I didn’t mind because I really wanted those pimples gone.

Within two weeks my acne started clearing up. Unlike all the other acne-fighting products I’d tried, Proactiv made my skin smooth, not dry, and it was very gentle. Most importantly, it worked. (I know Proactiv doesn’t work for everyone, though. A fellow NYC writer told me she tried it for a while and didn’t have any luck with it at all.)

Becoming an Acne Mentor

One morning a few weeks later, I got out of bed and went into the bathroom as usual. But this time when I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, I was astonished at what I saw.

“Could this really be me?” I thought. I touched my face and it was so smooth. The pimples had completely gone away. Now there were only the dark marks from old pimples. I got a lump in my throat and my eyes began to fill with tears. The reason for my pain was finally fading away. After that, my mother ordered me my own supply of Proactiv with my sister’s credit card.

Ironically, right when I began to have control over my acne, many of my peers began to break out for the first time. Like me, they tried anything and everything. I knew how it felt to not be comfortable with yourself and I didn’t want them to feel the same pain as I had, so I tried to help them. I felt like their acne mentor, telling them what causes acne (it’s not caused by what you eat, but by a combination of things like genes and hormones) and how to control it (I told them Proactiv was what worked for me).

I began to feel much better about myself. People saw the difference in my face and I no longer got teased. Plus, now I had peers who knew what it was like to have acne and could finally understand how I’d been feeling.

One day at a family cookout, my aunt kept staring at me. I started to feel awkward so I said, “Do I have something in my hair?”

“I just can’t get over how clear your face is,” she said.

“Thanks,” I said with a shy smile. I was around my aunt all the time and she usually made critical comments about my face, telling me what not to do and what would make it worse. It felt good that she noticed the difference in my skin.

New Face, New Attitude

But it wasn’t only my face that had changed; my entire attitude had changed. I looked people in the face while I spoke. I had so much more confidence in my face and I wanted them to notice, too.

Once I began to act differently, people treated me differently. Now that I had more respect for myself, people began to treat me like I mattered. Classmates and family members began to ask me what I felt and thought, whether it was about fashion, acne or school.

I think it’s unfair that the world makes assumptions about who a person is based on appearance. You shouldn’t decide whether to respect someone or be their friend based on how they look.

Gaining Respect for Myself

I wish the world didn’t operate like this, but we all help to create a judgmental society. I’m just as guilty as the next person—I’ve made fun of others because of their appearance and flaws. And I judged myself because of my appearance, too. I had low self-esteem because of my acne, and I only started feeling better about myself when I started to look better.

But looking back, I think the reason people treated me disrespectfully was only partly because of the way I looked. I think it was also because they saw that I didn’t have respect for myself. If I’d had the self-confidence back then that I do now, I think people might have treated me better, despite my acne. I think that my confidence would have shone through my flawed face. Still, I wouldn’t trade my Proactiv bottles for anything.