I recently became a lady of leisure (in between jobs). This allowed me lots of “me time” in my new uniform of Lululemon run crops, ugg boots and comfy jumpers, heaven! My days are usually spent traipsing through Facebook and Seek.com, getting coffees and logging hours in the gym. I had no pressing commitment at which I would need to show my face for at least a week. Boy was I grateful for that when I allowed a skin therapist to create a mini crime scene on my face with a pretty drastic chemical peel.
This horrible act of unkindness to my face was a long time coming, I had spent the past few months with crippled self confidence thanks to a bout of acne that was taking over my face and my life. Sounds dramatic, I know, but if you’ve been through it, you’ll know I’m not exaggerating, at least, not too much.
Having been somewhat genetically blessed with olive skin, I got through my teenage years relatively unscathed by the hormone riddled pimple monster. This all came to a grinding halt late last year when, at age 25, my skin revolted against me and out of nowhere I was left with a village of sore red pimples setting up camp along my cheeks and jawline. I was not a happy chappy.
I felt as though my skin had betrayed me, I know I was far more aware of it than anyone else, after all, I was the one spending endless hours in front of the mirror meticulously studying, picking and squeezing at any lump or bump I could see. Doing myself zero favours and making the whole thing far worse.
While I hate to admit how vain I became, as it got worse, I found it harder and harder to face the world everyday. Even with a thick layer of foundation I felt like I looked awful. Your face is the one part of your body anyone you meet/see/speak to is going to see, there’s really no hiding it. Life gets pretty un-fun rather quickly when you’re consumed by thoughts about what you look like.
I tried endlessly to fix it. After a few months and a bathroom shelf lined with different lotions, cleansers, toners, exfoliators and creams and still no results, it was time to call in the big guns!
Going for a “skin assessment” and admitting to the flawlessly skinned therapist that I was a 26 year old suffering from acne was not my greatest day. I was brought to tears as I sat in her serene room filled with scented oils and ambient music, all designed to keep me calm and relaxed. Instead, I sobbed my way through the first appointment, explaining how bad I felt and hoping and praying she could give me back my face and my confidence. Good news, she could!
With job interviews around the corner I threw myself head first into her intensive plan that would hopefully leave me as the Miranda Kerr lookalike I always knew I was. The peel was the last and most intensive step in 2 weeks of not very nice but so far very effective treatments.
Having the chemical peel applied was incredibly painful. It resulted in my face turning red raw then black from the burn, which was far worse than a bit of acne. It was probably the most vulnerable I have ever felt. My confidence took a further nose dive as I locked the doors and stayed inside, allowing only family and close friends in. Seeing the reaction on their faces left me realizing that perhaps a bit of acne wasn’t that bad. I was panicking now, what if I was left with a face full of scabs and dead skin instead? Talk about being vain… had I gone too far??
Thankfully, as my yucky skin peeled away towards the end of the week I was left with baby soft skin, clear pores and an almost pimple free face. There’s still some work to do, but I am unlocking the doors and even… gasp… leaving the house without makeup on!
With each piece of repaired skin a bit of my confidence returns, I’m now feeling much closer to the olive skinned self assured me. I know my course of action was pretty drastic, but it’s paying off. Watch out world… I’m comin for you with a pretty bloody smooth face.
How did you improve your skin?