Thanks to the Act on Red campaign for sponsoring this post and helping me finally find the courage to talk about my rosacea.
Before and after treatment. Smile much? Sheesh.
(Update: Note that the second picture benefits from some light makeup and good lighting. These are pictures I happened to find but were not taken as before/after pics as such. I’ll always probably have some background rosiness.)
I’ve pretty much always had bad skin. Ever since I was a kid, I mean. I graduated from teenaged acne, to adult acne, to a persistent rosiness that started to set in more often, lasting longer and longer. That rosiness had a name, of course, I’d just never heard of it. It’s probably fair to say that I’ve had rosacea since my early twenties.
But I was a few weeks into my first pregnancy when it really started to get out of control. Huge red, fluid-filled bumps erupted on my chin. They were sore to the touch and like the biggest, baddest pimples you ever had. Except they weren’t really like pimples exactly. They didn’t ever come to a head that could be squeezed and if you tried, they wouldn’t pop like a pimple at all. Rather, they’d just ooze fluid and scab over, just as plump as ever.
These new pregnancy zits were the worst, I thought. Thank goodness I worked nights in a dimly-lit bar.