My first pimple

I don’t remember my first pimple. It must not have been a big deal for me. I can remember one night during my freshman or sophomore years in high school when I was really worried about this huge zit on my nose because I was meeting a girl at some party. I can even remember using Clearasil or something like that a few times.

Honestly, though, I don’t think that acne was a big part of my life during middle and high school.

It wasn’t until I turned the ripe age of 18 that I started to get concerned. Not surprisingly, that’s around the time that the pimples started to get serious about colonizing my face.

Even then, I can’t remember the first moment that it seemed like a big deal to me. It was a gradual thing that invaded my mind, probably as the pimples gradually took over my skin.

Looking back on it, I wish that I could have the same attitude. I didn’t know that they were going to steadily get worse over the next couple of years and that they would become a part of my life that would come and go for the better part of a decade.

I try to feel satisfied that my acne seems to have hit its peak. They’ve been at this level for a couple years now, so I don’t see them suddenly exploding into those deep grooves that you see on some people. Some days, that seems like a small thing to accomplish. Other days, though, it seems impossible to find that perspective.