My Acne Journey: A Reflection on Beauty Standards
My Acne Journey: A Reflection on Beauty Standards The first pimple appeared on my nose like an unwelcome guest, a tiny red dot on the otherwise smooth canvas of my youthful face. It was a harbinger of things to come, a cruel joke played by my hormones and genes. What began as a few scattered blemishes soon escalated into a full-blown acne journey, a relentless battle against a foe that seemed to know my vulnerabilities better than I did. It was always the worst at the most inconvenient times. It always appears when you are in your teenage years, the most sensitive and vulnerable phase of life. My skin became a barometer of my emotional state, flaring up with every surge of insecurity, every pang of self-doubt. It was a vicious cycle: acne made me feel insecure, and insecurity made the acne worse. I remember staring enviously at boys with flawless complexions, those who effortlessly glided through life, untouched by the torment of breakouts. They were the "chosen