My journey to Clear skin and Self Love
I stared at my reflection, my fingers pressing lightly against the angry red bumps scattered across my cheeks. At 25, I thought I’d have outgrown this—that my skin would have finally decided to cooperate. But no. Acne had clung to me like a shadow, stubborn and relentless. Every glance in the mirror felt like a betrayal. *Why can’t I just look normal?* It wasn’t just my skin that was suffering—it was my entire life. I canceled plans last-minute, terrified of someone noticing my breakouts. Dating? Forget it. The few times I forced myself to go out, I’d catch my date’s eyes flickering to my chin, my forehead, and then quickly away. I knew what they were thinking. *What’s wrong with her face?* I had tried everything—DIY masks, expensive facials, harsh scrubs that left my skin raw and burning. Nothing worked. If anything, my skin only got worse, more inflamed, more humiliating. I stopped taking selfies. I avoided mirrors. I cried more than I’d ever admit. ### **The Breaking Point** O...