[Un]reasonably outraged … about adult acne

Co2 Laser

I burnt off my face to improve my hormonal acne. I know it’s weird, but when you’ve had crap skin since you were fifteen, you’ll try anything once.

After sampling every product known to the beauty industry, every medication known to the medical fraternity and every clear-skin diet known to influencers, I concluded that I have shit genes.

At 48, I’m still dealing with breakouts. My sister-in-law washes her face with a bit of soap and then dries it on a bathroom hand towel shared by everyone else in the house. Not a breakout to be seen. She has that peaches-and-cream complexion. No open pores. Maybe one pimple in her lifetime. I envy those people and some days I even hate them. Well, “hate” might be a little strong…

I’d read about this thing called Co2 laser and had a friend who’d had the procedure.

What on god’s earth is Co2 laser treatment? It’s a skin resurfacing procedure that uses special lasers to remove the outer layer of damaged skin cells. The laser emits a concentrated beam of light that incinerates—yes, I said it—the top layer of skin, stimulating the production of collagen and promoting the growth of new, healthy skin cells.

So, my friend who had also suffered from acne and other skin troubles opted for the highest level. Photos a few days after the procedure made it look like she’d walked out of a house fire. Google the procedure but prepare yourself for the images. She was forced to hibernate for weeks while her skin crusted and wept and then peeled off to reveal a shiny new layer below. That was all part of the recovery and was discussed in excruciating detail prior to her committing to the procedure.

That level was not something I was willing to do. Aside from the downtime, it was in a price bracket I couldn’t justify.

However, after years of spending too much money on the next best skincare regime that would definitely fix my skin but definitely did not, I was left with some mild scarring, open pores and pretty average texture. As the fine lines also made their way in, creasing my face, I found myself frustrated that I was still dealing with this “teen” problem when I was old enough to have bloody wrinkles!

I saved the money for the low-level procedure and booked in as a birthday present to myself.

The face-lasering all happens under the care of a dermatologist. I wouldn’t have done it otherwise. Nobody wants charlatans messing about with their face because it’s hard to hide when things go wrong.

I arrived an hour early so they could apply topical anaesthetic and wrap me up like a cream pie. Yeah, I know. Not for the weak hearted.

Once I was numbed up, lying on that bed wondering what the hell I had signed up for, the nurse came in and started zapping my face in sections. The laser works in a grid-like format. It stings a little and the smell of burning skin is not ideal. I likened it to hot electric shocks. A hose held close to the face with cold air blowing out cools the skin while the expert face-burner changes the shapes of the laser to fit around awkward areas like your nose and eyes. She said mastering this procedure made her feel like an artist. Something told me I was not getting out of there looking like an oil painting.

My face wasn’t too bad for the days after. Red and rough like I’d been sunburned. Crazy itchy.

There is a whole regime to follow with moisturisers for the following seven days and although they told me the downtime was a day, I didn’t do anything socially for five days. I couldn’t put make up on and my skin looked like it was shedding. Because it was.

I won’t see the full results for 3-6 months because it works on the lower layers and wakes up old mate collagen to plump up the face and hopefully diminish the scars so they’re less noticeable.

If this was something I chose to do, why the outrage?

I’m [unreasonably] outraged that I still have to deal with this problem when I’m heading closer to menopause. I’m annoyed that there is not a single cent of Medicare rebate because it’s deemed cosmetic. People don’t choose to have scarring. I realise it is not a strict medical need, which I guess makes it “cosmetic” but if you’ve ever dealt with acne, you’ll understand the emotional toll it takes. It impacts your confidence, undermines your self-esteem, it makes you feel self-conscious and embarrassed at times. And my skin issues would be regarded as mild. Persistent but mild.

So for those with severe acne, I empathise deeply! And for anyone else who has some kind of health issue that you have to tolerate because any medical procedure available falls under “cosmetic”, I also hear your frustrations.

In addition to the cost for procedures, I worry that I’ve passed this shitty gene onto my kids. Early treatment when they hit puberty is my absolute priority and I don’t stuff around with the often useless over-the-counter topical treatments. It’s no fun navigating high school (and the world) with a face full of acne. It’s also very un-fun when you are still battling it in your forties!

So hopefully by the end of the year I will be unrecognisable. Audrey Hepburn-esque with glowing skin (although admitting that might mean this does fall into the cosmetic category?). People will ask “did you have work done?” assuming botox, fillers or a facelift. And I will reply: “No, I burnt off my face to improve my hormonal acne”.

Below:

(L) Up close and personal, you can see mild redness straight after the procedure

(R) Predicting my spring complexion. My expectations vs reality may be slightly mismatched.

KOx