I really do love talking about myself sometimes. This is just to prove it!
Anyhow... acne acne acne acne. God, it sounds so terrible. There's this stigma that's associated with acne, and I get it. Humans have been evolutionary evolved to think acne is bad. Females and males prefer smooth skin rather than that pimply skin that adolescents are blessed with two-three years with, in order to provide for their genetic material with more socially adept children with great hygiene (although honestly, acne isn't a hygiene issue. but our evolution has made this crazy mindset to find ourselves repelled by acne).
Anyways... what was I talking about? Oh yeah acne. It's not like I care about it a lot really. In fact, I think I used to not give a shit if I went out of the streets looking like an utter mess without a speck of make-up on and without my insecurity. Let's talk about my history with my old frenemy who I've come to love and hate at the same time.
Once I hit my junior and senior year--the horror came. I guess it also came with the unrequited loves and the intense emotional feelings and savaged my body and left me so socially disabled to this day. I didn't have terrible acne. When I say this, I mean I probably had one or two spots that were huge ass cystics once a week that dissipated after another pimple popped up and I would probably just feel terrible about them and being unable to do anything about them. It was always one to two pimples that were so visible to the whole world that I usually covered it up with whatever I could find. Then came the abusing of makeup and the consistent picking. So over those years, you can sure say I accumulated...
But then somehow, I got over it finally. The world has SO many problems and acne just seems like a thing that nobody really should give a crap about. I finally got up the confidence to live out my life with less makeup and just minimal concealer over the dark hyperpigmented scars that I had got from my highschool years.
However, sometimes, like today when you're totally PMSing, you're bound to feel emotionally insecure about it.
Like especially, when all your mother can talk about--besides your dwindling grades in college and your insecurity about your inability to stay focused and your stupid choice in a major--is your acne. And when you try to do a self-portrait about yourself and think to yourself, "well I'll just leave out the acne scars because it's difficult to do and I'm not as strong as Frida Kahlo who accepts herself for who she is unibrow and mustache and all" your mother goes and point out you missed your acne scars.
In such instances, I think it's totally okay to sob your heart out on the couch and write some story about your dear old friends that you are burdened with on a day to day basis and how you hate them today. Nevertheless, here are some pics so when one day I actually go and look back at it, I will say, man... I miss you my scars(haha not really. but they do really build character and a nice story, huh?).