When I was younger, more specifically a teenager, I was known as the acne king. And not without reason! With a visage that had scores of both black heads and white heads, I used to be a walking, talking, running billboard for acne. If the scorn of my peers particularly the girls wasn’t enough, the inconceivability of removing that nauseating acne I had was something else altogether.
The general consciences about acne failed to help. My family drastically assumed that my outbreaks was a consequence of poor or more in particular, unhealthy diet. Although it was correct that I liked the frequent dose of fast food the neighborhood junk food joints doled out, I was not too certain that eating out was the reason behind my acne. I mean, a number of my buddies ate out with me, and what’s more, ate processed foods even more often than I did. But they barely had any skin problems. Something needed to be flawed with the well-liked belief right? I had seen the parable being busted right before my eyes.
Another associated parable was about chocolate. And since I loved chocolate in any form or shape, I’d have found giving it up, even at risk of remaining acne king, an offensive concept. But having read up and followed reports and medical reports on the topic, I discovered to me relief that chocolate consumption didn’t have anything in the slightest to do with acne. My peers weren’t much of a help either. Most of my chums, hinted with clear sarcasm, that my acne ridden face was a result of my frequent and repeated masturbation. For some time, I thought this was true.
Hey! Which hot-blooded, teen male doesn’t luxuriate in masturbation at that point in life? But then again, observations let me to know that this too was a myth. For if my condition was linked to my masturbation, was I to realize that my male friends who had no acne at all didn’t masturbate? I might have easier assumed that they were aliens! So, that was another tale shattered.
An additional parable that I did believe, and which sounded real and even systematic at that point, related to the presumption that acne was a consequence of dirt and grime accumulation in the pores of my face. I didn’t stop to think about that if that was the case, why wasn’t the skin on my legs and arms, which were more in touch with dust and dirt than any other part of my body, also blocked up? Anyway, I spent a few days, weeks and months with care and persistence washed my face with all types of soaps and creams in an attempt to get rid of the problem.
To no effect. Ultimately, I also resorted to a fatalistic angle and concluded that the more I stressed myself out about my facial problem, the more they might continue to stay. It was at that point that I gave up troubling about my acne filled face. And guess what? Two years after, as I slowly grew out of my puberty, the acne vanished on its own! Though there remain a few tell story scars of my acne king days, my face is clear and glowing today!