It was another typical seventh-grade day of getting into verbal fights on Snapchat. Somehow, I found myself in a “sub” war with a girl I knew. Indirect jabs at each other back and forth. She hated my guts so much you could feel her anger through the screen.

I kept opening her Snapchat story to see another black screen and text scattered frantically.

 “Alyssa + acne”

“Alyssa + puzzle pieces”

“Alyssa + connect the dots” 

Connect the dots? I will admit that was rather creative. But I’ve never heard someone describe my acne in such a way. 

After I lost the tragic battle, I wasn’t ready to accept full defeat. I needed to get rid of these stubborn red, white, and black puss-filled homes that resided on my face for too long.

Pills and Pimples 

I tried birth control for about a month as per my doctor’s recommendation. I was still in middle school so acne was my only real use for it, unlike maybe today’s generation. It still scared me though. 

One pill a day swimming inside my body doing who knows what and visiting all the different places I store inside. Moving where my body fat wishes to lay, pushing bloat out of my stomach, and kidnapping my muscles. The headaches and unexpected, hysteric mood shifts are just the cherry on top of this blue pill-colored sundae. 

I had to stop. 

Proactive Measures

The famous Proactive. No matter if it was my previous battle or a battle with another person trying to put me down, the number one backup was always Proactive.

“Just use Proactive.”

But no one understood that it wasn’t that simple. 

Proactive was portrayed in commercials at that time as this sort of miracle product. The god of acne.

And maybe for some people, the Proactive God granted miracles. However, for me, the god sent my skin away to a fiery hell.

My skin felt practically burned off after cleansing, scrubbing, and toning it off. 

I had to try something else once my skin resurrected. 

Under the Needle

It’s exactly what it sounds like. Little needles stabbing into your face one jab at a time till your whole face is doused in blood. Don’t worry, your face is numbed beforehand.

Nonetheless, I received microneedling facials seven times. Once the blood on my face washed away, a smoother, clearer face stared at me in the mirror. I think my prayers were finally working. 

Unlocking the Secret

I finally found the answer. The god of acne answered my prayers.

Five years after the birth control mishap, my doctor again recommended a product. Apprehensive, I decided to clutch my tail in between my legs and walk on over to the pharmacy to pick up the Benzoyl Peroxide and Clindamycin Gel he recommended. 

I slathered globs and globs of this gel over my face every single night and haven’t stopped since. I’ve never seen my complexion glow so clearly with the utmost confidence. 

Yet, some dots are still there. They don’t seem to go away. Maybe it’s because they’ve become too connected to my face. Almost like a slightly comforting bond of familiarity. 

I suppose the battle never ends.