Acne Scars & Beyond Part 1

Acne Scars & Beyond the Physical Damage that it Causes -Part 1
By Mari Bozozo

Over the course of my lifetime, I’ve applied many invaluable lessons to my life by way of the
following sayings: “It’s better to have loved and lost, rather than not to have loved at all.” “Look
both ways before crossing the street.” “Don’t talk with your mouth full.” And last but certainly not
least, “If you are insufferable with acne scars, then avoid mirrors at all costs, especially of the
magnifying persuasion, as if your life depended on it. As someone who has grappled with
acneic skin for practically half of her life, it is not a far stretch of the imagination to believe that
I’ve incurred scarring from it, as well. In my estimation, this is where the struggle really begins.
My hate and more hate relationship with acne scars took place very shortly after I graduated
from college. While I was still a student, especially during my first year, there was a huge margin
for adjustment. Shortly after matriculating into this new and unfamiliar environment, it was left
entirely up to me to learn how to both navigate and assimilate. Like the majority of new
students, I coped with my insecurities, challenges, and stresses by developing unhealthy habits.
Popping my fair share of caffeine pills on cram nights, operating on the minimum sleep, and
eating improper foods, all catered to a downward spiral that took a direct hit on my skin. I should
have been more disciplined when it came to the latter, as my room & board plan included two
moderately nutritious square meals a day. However, with all of the temptation to consume not
so good for me foods within a 10-mile radius of the campus, I succumbed to it almost every
single time. There was this diner in the middle of the campus called, “The Canteen”. Greasy
chicken wings and french fries, and tacos with refried beans were common staples on the
menu. For those of us who had insatiable appetites with only loose change in our pockets to
spare, it was the go-to place after the campus cafeteria had closed. I believe that this was where
the Freshman earned their “15”. I’m referring to the infamous “Freshman 15”, the wide swept
belief in the academic world, where college Freshman pack on 15 pounds during their first
semester on account of the overconsumption of the wrong foods. While I managed to escape
that fate on account of having a fast metabolism, I did, however, acquire something far more
sinister, that remained with me for the rest of my college career, and beyond- an influx of acne.
It was the gift that just kept on giving. And the more I tried to control it, the more ferocious it
became.
Up until that point, my breakouts seemed minimal in comparison. My high school senior
yearbook picture was practically flawless, sans a few random blackheads on my chin. At the
time, it was beyond me as to why my breakouts decided to accelerate in college. Of course, I
did not know then what I know now. In terms of educating myself about the hows and whys, I
was in every sense a babe in the woods. Completely clueless. I recall the crying episodes on
the phone with my mother about the nosedive my skin had taken. She tried to help me as best
as she could by sending me topical products that gave me very little results if any. Nothing
would obliterate this nightmare that I was living. I was so ashamed of what my skin had become,
that I took to wearing a facial mask every night, after retiring to my dorm, so that not a soul
would ever see my bare skin. EVER. During the day, every day, I wore foundation. It was not
only stifling to my esteem to do this, but it was stifling to my skin, as well. I mean, my skin
literally could not breathe with that pound of green gooey clay on it every night, and that cakey,
oily makeup during the day. Looking back, all I really did was amplify my problem. What a low
I’d reached. Very low.