If you're someone who has been gifted clear and smooth skin most or all of your life, this story might not resonate.
But if you've had the pleasure of navigating the emotional roller coaster of imperfect skin, you're in the right place. And sure it may seem strange to dedicate a whole story to my first pimple, but for me it’s important given the level of importance the care for my skin has played in my life from 1988 into my adulthood. It also shows why I struggled with so much insecurity in school, why I have been so passionate about skin care most of my life and why I eventually built a business around it.
We all have stuff the Universe gives us to handle, navigate and grow through in this life, and for me, one of my things gifted to me to experience and learn from has been my relationship with and condition of my skin. I'm sharing this experience because I hope it helps us talk about uncomfortable stuff and remember that people are insecure and sensitive about lots of different things, one of them being their skin.
We as humans sometimes hide our learning journeys from both ourselves and from each other, so perhaps this helps to reframe how zits, acne, pimples, or whatever names you want to call these pesky expressions of our skin, can play a transformational role in your life and spiritual development. I made them wrong and wished them away for years, but I wouldn’t have had my desire to help people with their skin as such a fierce mission later on in life had I not had such a tenuous journey with my own skin.
So pimples, thanks for the journey.
And for those of you who can count the number of pimples you've had in your lifetime on one or both hands, bless you and your life’s journey, and please know that I've probably either envied you, hated you, assumed your life was easy or thought we couldn’t even friends or relate to each other simply because you had good skin. Simply said, my skin is a lens through which I’ve seen and experienced the world, so this story is where my journey with my skin REALLY began.
I was around 11 years old when my first unforgettable and enormous pimple arrived during the summer between my 4th grade and 5th grade. This pimple began as a sore spot right in the middle of my chin, and it felt so noticeable that I kept touching it, pressing it, rubbing it and staring at it in the mirror wishing it would vanish. What you’re supposed to do when you get a pimple wasn’t something that was discussed at my house or in my peer group, so the only information I was aware of as to how to care for pimples came from watching TV and seeing commercials for Noxema and Clearasil. But those commercials didn’t say how annoying, embarrassing and/or painful a pimple could be, or that touching or picking at the throbbing sore area would make it grow; I had to discover this on my own.
After a few days of having a sore spot that I kept rubbing, I woke up one morning to see that it had transformed from a red itchy sore spot into an enormous white-headed pimple. The bump was mesmerizing to behold and clearly needed to be popped, and I was equally thrilled and nervous for this undertaking. I couldn’t be seen in public with this enormous white bump on my chin, especially since I had huge plans that night. So it was on me to free it. It was Friday and there was a co-Ed social event called a "lock-in” that night, and there I was with a monstrous pimple on my chin. Ugh. I was both devastated and embarrassed.
And if you don't know what a “lock-in” is, it’s a heavily chaperoned overnight social event where kids the same age from 3 different schools all gather together in a school gymnasium to play games, run around, eat a brown bag dinner together, watch a movie and sleep in sleeping bags and sleeping pads we’d bring, boys separated from the girls. And for the pre-Internet 1990's era, this sort of event was a big deal, mainly because we got to see and hang out with other kids from other schools. Up until that point, we knew kids from other schools from playing against them in soccer or basketball games, but this event was non-competitive and social, so there was room for connection. But now I had this monstrous pimple on my chin and I was horrified; and it almost made me not want to go.
So would popping it help it not be so noticeable? Hmmm, that seemed to be my only option, so I stood staring at myself in my bathroom mirror, leaned in and examined it from all angles, and when I touched the white part, I gasped in pain. Yes, the pimple was THAT sore and ready to blow.
There was no way I could go out like this, with this pimple in this state. It needed to be popped, but I remembered a conversation with my neighbor friend who had pimples and had seen a dermatologist, telling me I should never pop my own pimples. So I was confused; was I supposed to pop it or not? The indecision and inner turmoil were very stressful.
The commercials I’d seen about pimples from SeaBreeze, Stridex and Noxema portrayed how ugly and embarrassing pimples were, and then showed how happy people looked once their pimple magically dissolved under the advertised product they were selling. But what they didn't show was the incredible patience, care and self control it takes to move a pimple from angry, big and red to happy, small and gone. But I knew I needed to do the pop now so that it could have a few hours to heal and disappear before tonight’s event. Because that's what happens when you pop a pimple, right? It vanishes? I was about to find out.
So I leaned in towards the mirror to the point that my nose could almost touch the glass, I turned on the light switch to the fluorescent and unflattering bathroom lights I seldom used (I use the dim light setting), and with unwashed hands, I set that pimple free with my fingertips. And I heard it make a satisfying audible popping sound that startled me. It also splattered all over the mirror, which was mesmerizing. I immediately stood upright in order to take in the small explosion that I'd just created on my mirror; and I felt oddly proud.
I'd just popped my first pimple, and it was thrilling!
But now the throbbing on my chin was excruciating, and an ooze appeared that looked to be half blood and half goo of some sort. So I took a piece of toilet paper and folded it over a few times to create a small square, and I kept a consistent pressure on my decapitated pimple for a while, occasionally checking to see if it had dried up. It did stop oozing eventually, but it also glued the toilet paper to my chin when it dried up, so in peeling the toilet paper from my chin, I re-awoke the beast of the pimple and it once again began to ooze.
I stared at myself and my chin pimple in the mirror and felt my excitement about the night's lock-in dissolve, only to be replaced by anxiety, shame and horror that I now had this enormous oozy thing on my chin that everyone could see. No one would want to talk to or hang out with me, “pimple girl,” because even I couldn't look at my own self in the mirror and not stare directly at my new enormous pimple on my chin. So how on earth could I expect others to look me in the eye rather than at my pimple. I was devastated.
Then I remembered seeing some zit cream and makeup in my sister's bathroom cabinet a few weeks before when I was in there snooping around for no reason, and I wondered if those products could help. So I walked down the carpeted hallway of my family’s house in Dallas and entered my sister's dimly lit gorgeous pink bathroom, and immediately found what I was looking for because she is so organized. I found a barely (if ever) used tube of tinted Clearasil pimple cream and a stick of light beige CoverGirl cover up; so it was game on for drying up and camouflaging this pimple. Yay! My sister hardly ever had pimples so I didn't think she'd miss this stuff I was borrowing for the night. So I took her tinted Clearasil and coverup, walked down the hallway back to my bathroom, and I turned on my dim light setting and unscrewed the lid of the Clearasil, and leaned in and dabbed it on my chin. I felt a sharp and painful stabbing sensation when the cream hit my skin, but I didn’t care; I was mission oriented to destroy this pimple. Once the cream was on, I stood back from the mirror, and what I saw in the dim light of my bathroom was astonishing. The appearance of my pimple went from what I felt was all anyone could look at, to barely noticeable! I couldn't believe it and I felt excitement through my whole body and I decided it was time to pack my sleepover bag for the lock-in. And of course I’d be bringing my secret weapons (zit cream and the tinted makeup stick) for the journey.
I had only ever been to day camp briefly at this school where the event was, but it had been a while. So when my mom dropped me off in the early evening for the lock-in I was nervous and overwhelmed by the number of new young faces and not remembering where the bathrooms were. But I could tell there were boys and girls I’d never seen before meandering about also getting acquainted with the space, so for a moment I felt more comfortable amid all the newness and I took a deep breath and felt about as ready as I was going to be. We were told to all show up in our pajamas so I was wearing a matching fuzzy long sleeve shirt and pants. I also had my little backpack with clothes for tomorrow, my toothbrush, my toothpaste, my SeaBreeze face astringent and cotton balls so that I could wash my face after everyone had gone to sleep.
The adults divided us into small groups which were indicated on a check-in sheet when my mom dropped me off, and I immediately didn't like any of the girls in my group because they all had dewy clear skin and none of them had a backpack carrying their supplies to fight and camouflage an aggressive pimple. I couldn’t connect with these new faces because all I could think about was my pimple and how I thought everyone was staring at it.
There were ice breaker games at this lock-in, which were supposed to help us meet and get comfortable around each other, but there I was shyly moving around everyone, quick to look away if we got close, so no one could get a glimpse of my chin. I’d arrived thinking I was invincible with my tinted Clearasil, but I soon realized several kids were looking at my chin, and I didn't know what to say. Do I bring it up? Awkward...pretty much for everyone. So I did my best to keep participating in the night's events, keeping distance wherever possible.
The night went on, and I began to feel a pressure growing inside my chin pimple, so I excused myself into the school’s fluorescently lit bathroom, and I was horrified when I looked in the mirror. I just then realized the tinted Clearasil that I'd applied earlier had not only dried and become crusty, but it had turned a hue of orange that made my chin pimple appear as though it had a sign on it that said, “hi, look at me.” But not only that, just in the time between leaving the comfort of my dimly lit home bathroom and playing games at the lock-in, another whitehead had formed right beside the existing one. Seriously?! So I grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser, put water on it, and wiped the orange crust away from pimple 1, and went after pimple 2 with my finger tips, feeling the familiar splat of pus onto the mirror. I quickly wiped the mirror, hoping no one would enter while this was happening.
I then stood in this gymnasium bathroom looking at myself in the mirror, with my swollen red chin and thought, What do I do now!? I can’t go back out there…
I held the paper towel over my swollen chin, and just stared at myself in disbelief. And that’s when I knew it was time to call it a night. Sure, I was enjoying seeing what other kids were like in our bigger neighborhood at this lock-in, but I also couldn’t go through letting anyone see my chin. It was still early in the evening, so if I said I was tired and wanted to sleep I’d be a loser, so instead I faked being sick and told the leaders I had an upset stomach, and so it was their idea that I lay down in a designated early to sleep, quiet area. This move may have made me the least fun person in the room, but I didn't care. Sure, I didn’t make any new friends that night from other schools, but I was able to successfully hide for the rest of the night so I was proud only for that reason. All because of my anxiety about my enormous pimple and its new side kick.
When I entered the corner of the gymnasium covered in sleeping bags and designated for those heading to bed early, I grabbed my bag and took out the Sea Breeze astringent and put some on a cotton ball and dabbed my chin several times. I then eased my way into my sleeping bag, and I rested the moist cotton swab with Sea Breeze against my chin as I tuned out the noise of laughter and chatter around me and fell asleep. Mission accomplished. I'd awake to the Sea Breeze having done its job and this pimple would be gone.
Instead I was roused awake about an hour later by the scuffling of kids around me rolling their sleeping bags and mats out to sleep, and so I tucked my head under my sleeping bag, and waited until the lights went out to uncover my head. Several hours later, before anyone woke up, I felt a stabbing pain in my chin, so I reached up and touched my chin to feel an entire chunk of my skin roll off onto my fingers. I gasped and ran to the bathroom, to see that when I’d fallen asleep with the Sea Breeze cotton ball resting on my chin, I'd burned a small patch of skin off, so my chin pimple was now an open wound, with a little blood. But the good news is that it didn't look like a pimple anymore, it looked like something I needed hydrogen peroxide and a bandaid for, YAY!
I felt relieved and went to the infirmary and told a lie about how I'd fallen and something had scraped my chin, so the nurse gave me some ointment and a BandAid, which oddly enough, helped me relax, because I no longer had to deal with people staring at my pimple. Now I had a socially acceptable bandaid.
My chin wound took months to heal (probably because I wasn't telling the truth about it), and it left a significant round scar right in the center of my chin that I hated. It was big enough to be noticeable, but small enough that it would be awkward for someone to ask about it, so it stayed in my awareness constantly. It would also get baby pimples along the scar, so the area always had an inflamed appearance.
This pimple scar continued to haunt me well into high school, and even on into college, where it took an interesting turn. It was 1997 and my dog Sadie and I were out on a hike on the outskirts of Boulder, Colorado, and I'd just had my second surgery on my right shoulder from whitewater kayaking, so my right arm was in a sling. I was coming downhill on a trail when my feet slipped on the rocks and I began to fall forward. I got scared I’d injure my hurt shoulder more, so I changed my angle of impact and face-planted into the ground in order to spare my shoulder.
I immediately felt a warm zing of pain in my chin and I realized a sharp stick had gone most of the way through my chin. I took a deep breath, removed the stick and almost passed out from seeing the blood. I then took off a layer I was wearing and held it up to my chin to stop the blood as I proceeded to drive myself to the E.R.
When I walked in, the nurses didn't know what I needed help with first, since my arm was in a sling but my face was bloody. I told them my arm was fine and it was my chin that needed attention.
A few hours later I drove home with 15 dissolvable stitches in my chin, and now I had a scar that was a straight line across my chin, rather than a raised bump. But what I find interesting is that the story with me face planting to save my shoulder was much easier for me to tell than a story about how I burned off my first pimple with Sea Breeze at a middle school lock-in.
But the stories my chin holds have taught me so much about life, and how much my own self induced fear and shame can run the show, even in the mind of a young middle schooler who barely had boobs.
Our job as humans is not to point out where we are all deficient, it's to love each other through it all, and to notice and god forbid enjoy the different expressions our body takes in its human form. And sometimes that means having pimples, because that's a beautiful form of releasing energy.
But please note it took me a long time and many more embarrassing skin care faux pas, to really begin to work on shifting my relationship with my skin from anger at it for not being perfect, to curiosity about what it has been trying to tell me. And now, thanks to my healing journey with my skin, I've built a beautiful day spa in Park City, Utah that has the ritual of teaching good skincare habits as one of its foundations. And I wouldn't have learned as much as I did, without all the lessons I endured, which included burning my chin skin off with SeaBreeze.
So enjoy and trust your journey; yes even all the little imperfections along the way, because they're leading you somewhere worth remembering, to something worth having, or at least to a really good story you can share.
Namaste
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