Monday, June 13, 2011

Blame it on the Blemishes

I have an important motto I've made up myself that is related particularly to the raising of children. At least I think I've made it up.

It didn't occur to me quite away because, frankly it wasn't needed. It occurred to me when Bar Mitzvahzilla went from being a smooth-faced twelve-year-old several years ago, into a raging, hormonal thirteen-year-old. And then the pimples came.

It was a normal night. The kids were up too late. The husband causing a ruckus in the house because those same kids had managed to mess up the house in the most minute ways; ways that seemed intended to drive us to the brink of insanity. I was hiding in my office, trying to get some writing done and wondering - lamenting - why my office didn't have a door. Oh yeah, I know. Because it's the living room.

Then Bar Mitzvahzilla marched in for a goodnight kiss. No knocking because, of course, there was no door.  He presented a face full of pimples for me to kiss. And I, of course, kissed the pimples.

It's not like I spent my life purposely kissing pimples. The common wisdom when I was heading into high school was that you could catch these things if you made out with a boy who had them. Since I already had enough of them to send makeup counter ladies running in horror from their stations in the mall, I wasn't going to purposely rub faces with someone who had worse pimples than me. There was also all the other stuff we believed about our skin right then: chocolate causes pimples. Rubbing alcohol will cure pimples (topically, not as a drink...). Use a blackhead popper on your pimples (hello, scarring!). We even believed that one day soon we'd grow out of them.

And, just like my nascent belief, as a teenager, in the fact that a ten-pound weight loss could change my life, I also believed that if I strategized just right, I could declare war on the pimples, and fix my social life.

I don't think Bar Mitzvahzilla was philosophizing quite as much as I had, as an adolescent girl. But he did march into my office for a kiss. So here's my motto, reiterated in case you missed it, used in the fullness of loving parenthood: Kiss the Pimples. And then get that kid to a dermatologist.

Any horrible acne stories from your youth? Archaic beliefs or practices? Any experience with this situation? Anyone else spend a lot of time in the dermatologist's office and not for Botox and Juvederm?

Linda Pressman, Author of Looking Up: A Memoir of Sisters, Survivors and Skokie
available on Amazon, Kindle, Barnes and Noble.com, libraries and other retailers

16 comments:

  1. Just this year, Awesome Stepkid R. has been afflicted with the dreaded acne. It's gross! And yes, I immediately took him to a derm. Life's too short to live with spots!

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  2. I had a wonderful complexion until the migraines set in. They are caused by a hormonal imbalance. So... now ~ as an adult ~ I have troublesome acne. Uggghhh.

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  3. In college I had horrible acne. Scarring, physically and emotionally. At the first sign of zits I rushed my boys to the derm but fortunately neither got my bad skin genes:)

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  4. TKW, my son's on his 2nd course of what's supposed to cure it, but I'm happy now they don't have to suffer the consequences of the scarring (just the side effects of the medication...)

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  5. I didn't have acne issues, but my husband did..My grandmother told me to put toothpaste on the occasional blemish that would appear. I am fearful of what awaits me with three boys...Adventures in dermatology?

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  6. Robin, That brings to mind how old you can actually get and still have this stuff! Why does everyone act like it's a symptom of adolescence. Hormones are right. I think mine are safely gone now!

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  7. Karen, the one time I used my sister's "magical" blackhead popper I ended up with a hole in my face! I'd say overall there's a roughness to my face that you wouldn't see on a kid now, but it's a little terrifying when I look at my son's medicine and there are skulls and crossbones on it. Let's put it this way: I'm glad he's a boy and not able to get pregnant...

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  8. Maria, toothpaste, hmmm. I guess as far as specialists, it matters how bad it is. No kid should have to scar anymore and there are a lot of things we started off with before the scary meds, like special soaps and ointments that would have worked on, um, lesser zits! First rule (like I lecture my kids) cleanliness!

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  9. Ha! I didn't have acne issues as a teen, and my kids have been (relatively well) spared. But I will say - kissing a face speckled with teen stubble is a surprise... (And they're quite entertaining when they decide it's time to learn to shave...)

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  10. Nope, no one helped me with my acne other than being reminded to to wash my face and my mother buying Sea Breeze by the buckets (which STINGS like crazy!) And when I hit my twenties I was ecstatic they went away and when I hit my thirties, they came back again. It's cruel, really.

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  11. BLW, I don't know where he gets this (Cossack ancestor???) but my son is strangely blonde-stubbled! My husband is in charge of the whole shaving tutorial thing while I do double duty with the female adolescent...

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  12. Jennifer, Sea Breeze? Ouch. I used bottles of undiluted rubbing alcohol... And what's with the resurgence of them as adults? I mean, now I'm looking at pimples AND wrinkles!

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  13. Every night I ask the same questions...did you scrub your face? Did you use your Stridex? Then I stare at my son's nose. Poor kid. I am playing the waiting game to see if he gets more than blackheads before I drag him to the dermatologist. But that day is coming...

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  14. Anon (is that you, Debi?), I'm so blind I thought my daughter had freckles till I looked t her up close! I remember walking around like that too, which makes it generational!

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  15. I've got pimples and wrinkles, too - life isn't fair!!! But it's nice to know teen-aged boys still want a good night kiss from mom :)

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  16. Lisa, Pimples and wrinkles at the same time is some cruel joke, isn't it? :) And I guess I should be happy that they face was presented to me in all its glory so many times, you're right!

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