The Day Teri Rued the Day

Growing up [hell, for most of my life] I have battled acne.  And not the occasional, “Oh I have a final and now there is a zit on my nose!” kind of acne–the “Oh dear lord, what has happened to that child’s face?!” acne.  It was pretty humiliating.  And it’s something that I still struggle with today, though I am aided significantly by the medicine prescribed me by my very own older, blacker, and more dermatologically-inclined version of Mr. Rogers.

My mom was always trying to find something that could help my unfortunate skin, but nothing was able to tackle it.  Then one day we discovered Proactiv.  I had never tried the stuff, but damned if those teens in the commercials weren’t clear-skinned and bushy-tailed.  My mom purchased the stuff and happily I ran to the bathroom to let the magical acne purging begin.

I went to bed that night, full of childish excitement, and anticipated the clear skin that I would see before me come morn.  However, the next morning I learned a very important lesson.  That lesson was that I was allergic to benzoyl peroxide, which just happens to be the main ingredient in most of your stronger acne medications, Proactiv included.

So instead of this:

I woke up to this:

Only angrier:

Burning, itchy, and painful skin.  I wanted to scrape all of the skin off of my face, but couldn’t bear to touch it without crying from the pain.  Not a pleasant experience.  Fortunately this happened on the weekend, so I could hide away from everyone until the angry skin peeled off!

Just kidding.  This happened on a Monday.  Thanks for the embarrassing memories, Proactiv!

But it did clear up my acne.