Adulthood has a bad habit of making shit that is normally so trivial as a kid that much fucking worse when you’ve officially finished growing and have an “O” next to “Type” on your Driver’s Licence.

Chicken pox…fever, bit of an itch and a whole week off school as a kid. As an adult? Sort your affairs and eat that whole tub o’ Ben & Jerrys cos you fucked.

Enter, acne. Society associates it with puberty – that’s when your hormones are most rampant, right? Horny, pimply and awkwardly hairy (I wasn’t the only one that went through that phase of a single, thick, black armpit hair for a whole year am I?). Yet, somehow, for some of us those hormones never sort their shit out and instead of being horny, pimply and awkwardly hairy we just become horny, pimply and the country’s newest State Forest acquisition.

Or, such as in my case, you’re blissfully pimple free throughout puberty and think you’re going to skate through life happy as Larry without so much as a care towards the dastardly blemishes those other people get. Until it happens.

 

Adult Acne: It Fucking Sucks - My Name is April
This is just an entirely unflattering photo but thar she blows.

My acne isn’t as bad as some. But it’s enough to make me incessantly insecure about my skin. I have quite pale skin, so the acne and extreme redness that covers the lower part of my face is incredibly prominent; to my critical eye.

Tinted moisturiser during sport, and make up whilst at work is my attempt to cover the acne. A $500/mth skincare regime is my attempt to cure it (as well as a balanced diet). I get a monthly facial, and use a total of 5 different, stupidly expensive medicated skincare products a day. As soon as I wake up I cleanse, apply salicylic acid cream, moisturise, and apply tinted moisturiser (also medicated). At night, I double cleanse, apply salicylic acid cream, retinol and moisturiser.

Having to cart my 37539673 skin care products between mine and my boyfriend’s house for a sleepover is tiresome. Having to make sure, after a night out, I don’t just wipe my make-up off and call it a night, is tiresome. Having to make sure that I religiously, first thing in the morning, cleanse, apply salicylic acid and then moisturise is tiresome.

I drink the water, I eat the foods, I nourish the skin and my acne has improved, but now hit a plateau and I don’t think it’s going to get any better. Not without some serious chemicals to zap that shit to the ether. Roaccutane is a thing, yes I’m aware. The only reason I haven’t tried it is because I am incredibly certain I will be that unlucky bitch that gets every single listed side effect. Sorry, but I don’t feel like being suicidal today. Or burning myself to a crisp.

Adult Acne: It Fucking Sucks - My Name is April

Tim is fantastic. My friends are fantastic. Society, generally, is fantastic. It isn’t even that noticeable / love the skin you’re in! / Acne is natural – it’s beautiful! Look, guys, thanks for the pep talk but I know you’re lying – and who in their right mind can possibly think swollen pores with trapped oil within are beautiful? Not to mention the redness that radiates with the force of a thousand suns from our homegrown face volcanoes?

This is not a liberating post, in case you hadn’t already figured it out. This is a shout out to every single poor son-of-a-bitch out there that has adult acne. And to the ladies and gents out there who have it a whole lot worse than me – I’m incredibly sorry you have to deal with it. It fucking sucks.

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