My pimples are only skin deep. My skin won’t stop me because I’m a smart, beautiful, bride-to-be who is a partner in a company.
…phew…that statement was harder to write than you would imagine. I think that I re-wrote it six times. Each time with the voice in my head saying, “people know you have bad skin, you’re pretty, but don’t be so bold as to call yourself beautiful.”
That’s a huge ding in the old armor.
Confession: I’m on medicine that eats my estrogen and my hormones take some serious attention to keep in line, thus causing my face to sometimes reflect what I so lovingly refer to as “my pimple beard.”
It doesn’t happen often, but when it does…it’s horrendous. I have porcelain white skin – thanks to my Polish, Irish, English, & Swiss heritages – but that just means that it’s a blank canvas for breakouts. Going without makeup is reserved for Saturdays, after work, and on the rare occasion that my face is in great shape. Like Sara Brennan admitted in her post, I, too, am a picker, which doesn’t help. Stress only makes it worse and I truthfully don’t remember a time where I wasn’t stressed…grad school, starting a business, planning a wedding…oh my!
I have a regiment that I follow, but any change in meds can throw it off and it’s mortifying. Skin is something that rocks my confidence and I really wish that I would finally “grow out” of this phase in life.
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