I’ve always struggled with acne. For as long as I can remember I was turning down sleepovers, social outings with my friends, and loathing school because of what was going on with my face (or my back or my shoulders). It was, quite possibly, the hardest thing about my middle/high school years. Girls, let me tell you something though, no one really notices—it’s just a zit.
I had many friends with clear skin. I envied them entirely too much when they didn’t have a bedtime routine that took nearly 20 minutes or didn’t have to worry about all their makeup melting off when it was hot outside (because they weren’t wearing any) and I wished, with all my might, that I could have skin like theirs. Looking back, that was so much of my energy wasted. My mom and dad used to coax me all the time when I had a bad breakout that it could be much worse. I could have an illness that prevented me from going to school or I could not have the ability to use my arms and legs (drastic, I know) but think about it…it’s just a zit.
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