Facial? Or Frantic?

So I indulged on Sunday and had my first facial. A fancy, schmancy treatment with particle-free dermabrasions and that whole ordeal. About a month ago, I figured, what the hell, it’s going to be Spa Week/Month. The rate was unbeatable. I secured one of the last weekend appointments. After having one of the most pleasant Sunday afternoons I’ve had in a while, prancing around in Cow Hollow catching up with a friend, I made my way to the day spa, a short walk down the hill from my flat. It wasn’t difficult to soak up the relaxing, heavily-floral-scented atmosphere. And the soft palms of my facialist were deeply soothing.

It was the device they used on my face that startled me a little. The “particle-free dermabrasion” essentially involves a complicated mixture of serums and creams applied in a specific order and a exfoliating device that sounds like tiny razors are shaving off all your dead skin particles. They also take a tiny metal sharp poke-and-prodding device and perform “extractions,” picking at my pores. But yes, it felt good. Like a toxin release — okay, maybe I’ve just been reading too many beauty blogs and writing too much beauty copy at work. Either way, I left the spa having left a hefty tip and with a glowing (what I like to consider a polite way of saying “shiny”) complexion.

Here’s the thing. I’ve struggled with acne since high school. Until mid-March, I was always on a combination of acne prescriptions, from pills to creams to anti-bac face wipes. After months of online research, and unexplainable fluctuations in the clearness of my complexion, I stopped my meds cold-turkey. There has to be a more natural way to clear up my skin. I was on this heavy-duty cream for five years. Turns out, it’s so harsh that it causes birth defects. That was the whole reason why I had refused to try Accutane. Too harsh. This, too? I just don’t want that stuff in my body. Whatever was making my skin break-out when I was sixteen can’t possibly be the same thing that’s making it break-out now, so why are my medications the same? I have tried countless prescriptions to clear up my face, and yet here I am, twenty-two, battling break-outs like I’m still pubescent.

Since March, I have been trying an all-natural skincare line, MyChelle, recommended to me by a friend, and have seen varying results. Some days, weeks feel more successful than others. I figured that getting a facial might also help — another way to clear out my prescription-laden body and counteract it with things not known to be harmful, cancerous.

And yet this is what I wonder: at what point is it too much? That all my fussing, “fixing” is only making it worse. That my skin is situationally sensitive, deeply affected by hormones, stress, or something else that I can only control to a certain extent. I hate the pressure put on having clear skin, those expectations perpetrated by an industry that frequently airbrushes. I take pride in feeling confident about who I am, and to let this one cosmetic thing affect me so much, to take over my moods sometimes, is frustrating.

And yet I give in. I have another facial scheduled for May.