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Cystic acne is very difficult to clear up. It takes years of treatment, and even then, there are scars left in the skin.
The average person isn't going to get plastic surgery on their face--this suggestion is so out of touch, smacks of upper class, spend-to-fix-yourself mentality. "Just get plastic surgery..." Yeah, right.
Hair isn't always fixable. I have very fine, cowlicky/kinky hair that frizzes in humidity and no amount of products can control it. I will never have the type of super straight, shiny, beautiful hair that men prefer.
I was told by someone that he wasn't attracted to me due to my pimply skin and frizzy hair. Talk about a knife right through the heart.
If you've never had acne before, you cannot possibly understand or relate to the emotional and physical pain that it causes. Not just for women. I have a good male friend who suffered with severe acne in his 20's and has never had a girlfriend. He had cysts the size of half dollars on his face. You cannot ever get over that. You cannot understand how that affects a man or woman in the bloom of their sexual youth, in your 20's, when everyone should be at their most beautiful and sexually attractive point in life.
By the time most of my acne cleared up, I was entering my late 30's-early 40's and had no dating options at that point, as most decent men were married.
If you don't look good in your 20's, it changes your life forever.
I am so sorry about that, and for everyone experiencing this issue.
I had terrible acne as a teenager. It was the 1960's so the only treatment was Tetracycline which didn't work and sun lamp at the doctor's office which also didn't work. One time a friend of my older brother said directly to my face "your face looks like it was set on fire and put out with toothpicks." I used to comb my hair with the bathroom light off. Didn't want to see my face. At around age 19 it all began to clear up. Went to my high school 5-year reunion at age 23 and 95% of the comments were "your skin is so beautiful now!" Like the only thing they remembered about me is the acne. I'm grateful that my skin cleared up, but I'll never forget those painful humiliating years. Looking back I think it was hormonal and dietary (including vitamin deficiency). There was simply no awareness about acne remedies like there is today. And yet still, not every case is solvable.
Cystic acne is very difficult to clear up. It takes years of treatment, and even then, there are scars left in the skin.
The average person isn't going to get plastic surgery on their face--this suggestion is so out of touch, smacks of upper class, spend-to-fix-yourself mentality. "Just get plastic surgery..." Yeah, right.
Hair isn't always fixable. I have very fine, cowlicky/kinky hair that frizzes in humidity and no amount of products can control it. I will never have the type of super straight, shiny, beautiful hair that men prefer.
I was told by someone that he wasn't attracted to me due to my pimply skin and frizzy hair. Talk about a knife right through the heart.
If you've never had acne before, you cannot possibly understand or relate to the emotional and physical pain that it causes. Not just for women. I have a good male friend who suffered with severe acne in his 20's and has never had a girlfriend. He had cysts the size of half dollars on his face. You cannot ever get over that. You cannot understand how that affects a man or woman in the bloom of their sexual youth, in your 20's, when everyone should be at their most beautiful and sexually attractive point in life.
By the time most of my acne cleared up, I was entering my late 30's-early 40's and had no dating options at that point, as most decent men were married.
If you don't look good in your 20's, it changes your life forever.
Thank you.
I was in my early 20s, working in my first office job. A group of people were standing around the coffee area one morning when this nasty older secretary, who had taken a dislike to me from the day I started, said loudly in front of all these men (it was a construction office and back then the only females in the office were secretaries), "You should just forget about anything else but doing whatever you can to get that skin of yours cleared up." I was stunned that anyone would SAY something like that, and I was speechless. To make it worse, the engineer standing closest to me said, "My son has struggled with acne, too", then he laughed and said, "but his was never as bad as yours".
I just wanted to die. I also was raised to not make fun of people that way, and I just could not understand how these older adults felt as though it was OK to openly say things like this. Years later, that man's son died tragically, and my first thought when I heard was, "well, at least his skin was better than mine". Small and mean, yes, but that's how much it stayed with me.
I did manage to get married in my 30s. Alcoholic gamblers are not as picky about looks if you have a good job and are desperate enough to keep bailing them.out of trouble. One time my husband handed me a can of wood putty and told me to use it to fill in the holes in my face.
But the point is that you are right. You lose those years, never have the same experiences normal-looking people do, and it changes things permanently.
Things are different now. At 64, I have fewer lines than most women my age because of that oily skin, and I stopped trying to hide my face behind foundation years ago. This is my face. You don't like it, look at something else.
I was in my early 20s, working in my first office job. A group of people were standing around the coffee area one morning when this nasty older secretary, who had taken a dislike to me from the day I started, said loudly in front of all these men (it was a construction office and back then the only females in the office were secretaries), "You should just forget about anything else but doing whatever you can to get that skin of yours cleared up." I was stunned that anyone would SAY something like that, and I was speechless. To make it worse, the engineer standing closest to me said, "My son has struggled with acne, too", then he laughed and said, "but his was never as bad as yours".
I just wanted to die. I also was raised to not make fun of people that way, and I just could not understand how these older adults felt as though it was OK to openly say things like this. Years later, that man's son died tragically, and my first thought when I heard was, "well, at least his skin was better than mine". Small and mean, yes, but that's how much it stayed with me.
I did manage to get married in my 30s. Alcoholic gamblers are not as picky about looks if you have a good job and are desperate enough to keep bailing them.out of trouble. One time my husband handed me a can of wood putty and told me to use it to fill in the holes in my face.
But the point is that you are right. You lose those years, never have the same experiences normal-looking people do, and it changes things permanently.
Things are different now. At 64, I have fewer lines than most women my age because of that oily skin, and I stopped trying to hide my face behind foundation years ago. This is my face. You don't like it, look at something else.
Standing ovation to that last sentence of yours. That's where I'm at these days, too.
I think that wholesale social rejection, even temporarily in one's life, really messes with your head forever.
I was an ugly kid. I had bad skin, bad teeth, bad hair...I have the freakin' Sasquatch genes and removal of unwanted hair is an everyday endeavor for me. When puberty started and the hormones began to kick in when I was a tween, I got a bit of dark moustache going on...try being a girl with a terrible hairdo, thick dark eyebrows, braces, bit of moustache, on top of already being socially awkward and not knowing how to interact with one's peers. And my Stepmom was convinced I was a little girl who didn't know how to act like one, and was buying me unfashionable child clothes during a time when the pretty girls in school were wearing particular name brands marketed to teens, and doing gravity defying things with their bangs that my hair was too heavy for...like, I tried, but the curl always fell out and I was left with too much stinky hairspray and no poof. I have naturally thick, dark brown frizzy curling hair. After years of trial and error, I have a routine with 3 conditioning products that makes it look alright more or less.
I was a pariah among my peers through all of my childhood until I was about 14. By 15 I'd become kinda angry at the world and I also had this horrifically painful sinus infection for several months that meant I could not really make facial expressions and tried to wear sunglasses everywhere because the light hurt. I gave up on styling my hair and was just growing it all out with a middle part. I'd gone goth and people thought that I was "mysterious." Suddenly, weirdly, people wanted to be friends with me, right when I'd decided that I hated everyone and didn't give a crap what anybody thought about anything. But I guess that I started to look a bit better then, too.
Still, to this day, when people actually like me I feel this delighted surprise about it. I get an outsized hit of "reward" dopamine every time I have a positive interaction with a stranger. Like in a deep sense I don't think that I will ever forget what it felt like to believe myself to be universally hated and rejected.
Last edited by Mightyqueen801; 06-23-2023 at 11:13 PM..
Reason: My own typo in quote
Still, to this day, when people actually like me I feel this delighted surprise about it. I get an outsized hit of "reward" dopamine every time I have a positive interaction with a stranger. Like in a deep sense I don't think that I will ever forget what it felt like to believe myself to be universally hated and rejected.
For me, before the surprise hits, I have the immediate flash of suspicion. There were enough instances of people being nice to me to set me up to be the butt of the joke in my formative years, that people being outright kind or friendly (and especially flirty) must have an ulterior motive.
Being bullied and/or ostracized in our early years (for me, elementary school) is really traumatic. You think you get over it, but I don't think we ever fully do. The memories are there, but buried or temporarily forgotten. Whenever I think of 3 particular boys in grade school, all of the memories come rushing back. When I hit late teens I became addicted to looking really good before I left the house. It was the way I got approval. This carried on until my 60's when I began not to care anymore. I mean, I clean up before going out but don't look too close!!
I think being vain and attached to always looking our best/looking sexy/looking gorgeous is a crutch for a lot of women. It certainly was for me. When people would remark how pretty I was I'd reply "I would trade 50% of these looks for happiness and real love in my life." And really, I'm only a 7 who cleaned up very well. I made sure of that LOL. I'll never forget those acne years and how desperate and futile it was. It must be in my genes because my kids both got acne but only briefly because there were modern medical remedies by then.
Being bullied and/or ostracized in our early years (for me, elementary school) is really traumatic. You think you get over it, but I don't think we ever fully do. The memories are there, but buried or temporarily forgotten. Whenever I think of 3 particular boys in grade school, all of the memories come rushing back. When I hit late teens I became addicted to looking really good before I left the house. It was the way I got approval. This carried on until my 60's when I began not to care anymore. I mean, I clean up before going out but don't look too close!!
I think being vain and attached to always looking our best/looking sexy/looking gorgeous is a crutch for a lot of women. It certainly was for me. When people would remark how pretty I was I'd reply "I would trade 50% of these looks for happiness and real love in my life." And really, I'm only a 7 who cleaned up very well. I made sure of that LOL. I'll never forget those acne years and how desperate and futile it was. It must be in my genes because my kids both got acne but only briefly because there were modern medical remedies by then.
I'm really sorry you and so many others have been bullied, ostracized, or otherwise emotionally traumatized because of looks and so on. It can be tough, for sure.
My story is weird. I had the "right" things to be bullied over, if that makes any sense. I was super scrawny as a kid. Also, not very pretty, at least by kid standards in White Barbie, blonde hair, blue eyes 1970s. Adults were always saying things like "look at how cute that kid is" and "oh, you're going to have trouble when she's a teenager" to my parents, but by kid standards back in the 70s, nope, not one of the pretty ones with ribbons in her hair, ringlet curls, little button nose, who could run fast, etc., so I got picked on. But somehow I figured out that if I could be funny or smart, that could be something that got people to like me. I think the smart part came from supportive parents and teachers. They always encouraged me to let my brain shine, so I never felt compelled to dumb myself down to be attractive to boys later on. (Ha, still gives the patriarchy a pain in the arse to this day, nyahh.)
The funny part I hit on by accident. Mrs. Robertson, the fifth- and sixth-grade English teacher who INSISTED on saying my last name wrong even though I corrected her a million times, got mad at me one day for correcting her and I got in trouble for it. I was furious, so I said something to my one friend at lunch about how Mrs. Robertson's whole hairdo moved when she scratched her head because she had so much hairspray in it. A few of the other girls overheard that and found it uproariously funny. So then I got mean and said all anyone ever had to do around her was to light a match and see if she became a human torch and maybe some bugs and mice would come running out of her hair. More laughter. "And maybe a pig, too, and then we could have a barbecue." From then on, I had not just one friend, but lots of friends. The boys still picked on me mercilessly, but the girls, they rallied.
And then we got to high school. Suddenly, being skinny wasn't such a bad thing. I got some Sun-In (anyone remember that stuff?) and got some blonde streaks. I filled out. By 10th grade I had to beat the boys back with a stick, including some of the ones who terrorized me as a kid. Nothing gave me more satisfaction than to date the captain of the JV football team in 10th grade (after turning him down three times in 9th grade, probably shouldn't have taught him it was okay to not take "no thanks" as an answer, but oh what a difference one summer, some hair mousse, and getting his braces off made). He was in the same homeroom as one of the boys who terrorized me as a kid. When that odious boy saw us holding hands in the hallway his eyes were all and I was all but with a different finger and not my thumb. When we graduated one of the girls wrote in my high school yearbook that she will never forget about "The Barbecue" and was glad we were "friends 4 eva."
But still, even now, in my mid-50s, I feel like I have to be the smart funny one, and I find myself falling back on that both as a way of bonding with women and as a weapon against the patriarchy that wants to tell me I'm old, ugly, and uneffable and therefore not worth much. Whatever, boys. As someone else upthread said, this is how I look, with the silver in my hair and the crow's feet when I smile. If you don't like it, look elsewhere. I'm not defined by your eyeballs or the reaction in your pants.
Last edited by TeaByrd; 06-23-2023 at 05:22 PM..
Reason: P.S. Grown-up vegan me apologizes to pigs everywhere.
For me, before the surprise hits, I have the immediate flash of suspicion. There were enough instances of people being nice to me to set me up to be the butt of the joke in my formative years, that people being outright kind or friendly (and especially flirty) must have an ulterior motive.
With regards to relationships, I can only share what I've experienced.
I received no dating advice and can still remember my first date. At a pizza shop. A kid working there made quip about my face looking like a pizza. My date chuckled. My teen years were spent on the rejection end of dates. I wasn't a front runner by any means and had little self-confidence. Was hurt numerous times.
When I turned twenty two I came into my own. My skin cleared up, I got a suntan and grew my hair out. I was the same guy, but the young ladies were now looking my way. Earlier in this thread I mentioned a p/t job and a co-worker who told me she was busy only to find out later she went out with another co-worker. This girl and I had mutual friends and when we met again a few years later she was oh so interested in chatting. I didn't give her the time of day.
So, lesson one learned: Girls like nice guys but being considered attractive gets the ball rolling.
Lesson two: By age 30 I was single and still dating. But I had developed a drinking problem. Women don't like a drunk.
Lesson three: By age 35 I was sober but wasn't earning much money. Gotta be able to do more than just make ends meet.
Lesson four: By age 40 I had a good job and had started buying investment property. Women like a man with a plan.
Got married at the age of thirty-eight. My wife was thirty-three at the time. Still married and both retired.
I've made more than my share of mistakes over the years, but I did marry well.
Wife isn't perfect and neither am I. But we're happy enough.
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and I was all 
but with a different finger and not my thumb. When we graduated one of the girls wrote in my high school yearbook that she will never forget about "The Barbecue" and was glad we were "friends 4 eva."