Monday, January 12, 2009


We all have our thing. Some people have nice, long legs that never seem to hit the ground, while others have pretty, straight, white teeth that light up a room when they smile. My thing is my skin. I'm known for having a clear face. Of course growing up (you know, with puberty and all) I had the occasional break out, but overall, I've been pretty lucky in the acne department. In fact, my back broke out more than anything else, that is, until my senior year in high school when my dermatologist prescribed me some "special" cream and pills that zapped those zits into oblivion - and burnt me to a crisp. I remember my mom slathering Vaseline on my back to help ease the stinging agony. But hey, beauty is pain, right? After that I thought I (and my skin) was in the clear. Besides, only kids have breakouts and adults don't get bumps (or so I thought). Flash forward to today, and my face looks like a cheese grater.

Maybe I'm over reacting. Actually, I know I am. But what do you expect? I'm an actor and I make use of my dramatic license any chance I get. But seriously, I've got bumps all over my face. I feel...dare I say it? Unpretty! You know, like if a person is holding a conversation with me, their voice slowly begins to fade into the distance as I drift off to a galaxy far far away where I imagine said person snickering and pointing at me and my bumps. What gives? Could I actually be suffering from adult acne?

According to, "adult acne affects 25% of all adult men and 50% of adult women." The website also goes on to say that "people can develop unpleasant acne or have an acne recurrence in their 20s, 30s, 40s and beyond." (Sigh) Clearly, I'm not in the clear after all. The website advises that I do a benzoil peroxide over-the-counter regimen. I immediately ran to my medicine cabinet. Turns out, I have that already! I actually have quite a bit of product.

As I rummaged through my cabinet and began to apply my benzoil peroxide filled Proactiv refining mask and repairing lotion, I started to wonder if the issue was deeper than my clogged pores. What's more, why do I care? Am I that superficial that I would let a few bumps to ruin my day and allow a wave of insecurities to flood my head? Well, yes, yes I am. But if Oprah can put her over-weight self next to her formerly skinny self on the cover of O, then why can't I bare my soul here on my little, ity bity blog? So, instead of hiding behind a pair of big shades or inside the oversized hoody of my Gap snorkel, here I am, stripped, exposing all my private bump treatments. Take that Oprah! Oh, and Happy Monday!

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