As the internet has so helpfully pointed out Puberty can be a helping hand for any young adolescent growing up to be a stunning member of society.... or it can be a horrifying experience with an acne filled face, evident by the awkwardly taken family photographs because you're not quite sure how to smile to make yourself look half decent. Believe me when I say I have been there!!! I did puberty wrong. Oh so wrong.
I started off okay... I was a cute kid! Adorable - could have won baby competitions. Prospects to grow into a stunning young woman was high! I was the cutest child in comparison to my siblings (a statement they both agree on!). However this title was short lived as by the time I had started high school puberty had struck.
As my body changed to start developing little boobies, naturally I started to become more aware of myself and more insecure to the way I looked. When confiding to my older sister how I felt, she suggested make-up. Big mistake. Huge.
Emily is now a classy young woman, intelligent and sophisticated BUT she wasn't always. During high school Emily was a Chav. Badly spoken, orange faces, trackie wearing chav complete with the metal chain given to her by the high school sweetheart and MASSIVE gold earrings. I idolised her (my taste in fashion wasn't great either).
Being Emily's younger sister wishing to be just like her, the thought of getting a makeover from my fashion icon was amazing. The morning of being my sisters canvas for creativity I marched into school proudly with my head held high. Other students would stop and turn to me, and I thought "That's right! I am amazing!" Swaying my hips to the musical going on inside my head.
The tiny hint that something wasn't quite right came from my best friend Molly. Molly said what she thought and was lovingly brutal. I will never forget those words she said to me as I walked into our tutor room that morning.
"What the fuck happened to you?!"
They brought my musical to a sharp end. I never looked in the mirror this morning - assuming I looked like my older sister. However what I came face to face with as Molly offered her little compact mirror was an orange beast with spider leg eye lashes and trashy hair extensions. I had so much eye make-up on it was impossible to remove without make-up wipes (unfortunately no one I knew had reached the stage of applying blusher at school) and the Matt foundation was wiped on so thickly I couldn't find my skin under the layers of what resembled orange peal. As a consequence I had to walk around school for the rest of the day as if I was a umpalumpa from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
One of the life lessons I had learnt was always check the foundation being used is your colour and not three shades darker. But this was not the only lesson I learnt - oh no. This was the experience that just kept on giving.
Lesson number two - never assume a shower has removed ALL your orange peel, especially when it had been layered on thick. Always go over your face with a make-up wipe just incase. I did not know this.
I had my shower that night then happily went to bed thankful my umpalumpa days were behind me. I woke up, looked in the mirror.
I can only assume I had not removed all of the foundation from the night before, as what grated me in the mirror did not look healthy. I was covered in angry looking, puss filled spots all over my face. One small mistake and my skin decided to use this as a gateway to play havoc. An excuse to misbehave.
This was the start of a four year battle with acne, and the downhill spiral of my experience with puberty.
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