I got my first pimples one Saturday when I was around twelve. At the time, I was almost proud of them. I knew it meant that I was growing up. That feeling did not last long, though. As soon as I went to school that Monday morning, two boys in my class noticed. The boys made fun of me, and I felt like crying all day long.

When I went home, I found some bath soap. I thought that facial soap would be too mild. I took the soap and wrapped it in a wet washcloth and scrubbed and scrubbed. All that I accomplished was making my face red. It did not get rid of the pimples at all.

Through the next year, I got more and more pimples. Actually, it was worse than pimples. I had a full-fledged case of acne. I did not learn anything helpful in all that year about how to treat my acne. My mom tried to convince me to let her make me an appointment to see a doctor, but I refused.

In the meantime, I was doing everything from skipping chocolate to trying to pop my zits. The trouble with that was that some of the zits would not pop, and even the ones that did would get all red and angry-like.

When I was thirteen, I had a chance to go to a middle school dance. I felt so full of anxiety about it that I would not look at anyone. I did not think anyone would ask me because of my skin. Then, miraculously, someone did. It was even someone I liked.

The afternoon of the dance came and my face was broken out worse than ever. I went to my room and started crying. I did not stop even when my mom came up and talked to me. I told her I was not going to go to the dance. That was when she started asking me about how I was feeling. She had some questions.

I answered that I had not been sleeping well, I had felt very ugly and bad about myself, and that I did not want to go back to school. She could tell that it was more than a tantrum. She suggested that I talk to a dermatologist and a counselor.

I finally decided to take her up on it. While the dermatologist helped me work on my acne, the counselor helped me with my emotions. She taught me about how to improve my body image. She helped me to see that there was more to me than just my acne.

Treatment with my dermatologist was not as fast as I had hoped. It gave me fairly clear skin after awhile, but while I was waiting for it to work, I felt like giving up. My counselor kept me on track and reminded me that I needed to stick with my treatment if I wanted it to work. I think that is one of the main reasons the acne treatment succeeded.

Then, my counselor did a kind a work with me she called cognitive-behavioral therapy. As we worked on that, I learned to think about my social problems with acne. Then I figured out strategies to deal with them.

I came to learn that hiding in my room was making me feel worse in the long run, and not better. In the end, what I learned was that I could look myself in the face in the mirror without feeling helpless. I discovered ways to be happy despite my battle with acne.