I Just Had a Breakthrough
Ever since I was in middle school (I’m currently 22), my mom has been trying to “fix my acne.” Our bathroom cabinet was full of bottles of Proactive, little tubes of prescription creams, and jars of wipes that promised a noticeable difference in four hours.
No matter what, nothing worked, and I was left with nothing but irritated skin and those irritating little dots all over my cheeks. It would cause arguments. My mom would insist I wasn’t using the products correctly, or I wasn’t using them at all and wasting her money.
Then it proceeded to the tried and true argument of “You’re ungrateful and selfish.” One day recently, I was out with my friend helping her get stuff for her wedding. Since we were just going to the craft store and then getting lunch at a buffet, I decided to forgo my usual heavy makeup look.
Luckily, my mom was still sleeping, so I could avoid the whole “Are you REALLY going out like that?” conversation and just hopped in my friend’s car. She turned to say hi, squinted at me, and then said “I didn’t know you had freckles.” This blew my mind for an extremely disturbing reason.
See, I didn’t either. I pulled down the mirror on my side of the car and stared at my face. I didn’t see any freckles, just the ugly acne spots that I usually cover with foundation. We went back and forth for a bit before she, in her usual blunt fashion, pointed to my face in the mirror.
“That one big red spot is acne. These little brown dots are freckles.” My mother had actually convinced me that my freckles were acne and none of the products would work on me and had me thinking it was my fault. It seems stupid, but I started crying.
The I-just-had-a-breakthrough kind of cry. I know what I’m talking about in therapy next week.