Me, My Acne, and I
The raw and revealing truths behind our skincare obsession (and the products that can maybe fix them).
By Grayce Toon
Published
Moist is a monthly column that explores the overlap of skin troubles and melt downs, the spirals that ensue thereafter, and the wonderful products that sometimes solve both.
The Internet has been with me since my earliest memories. I barely remember when my family had dial-up and that incredibly intense and chaotic noise it would make (the soundtrack to the early panic attacks I had as a child). Miss Internet has been a guidepost and a savior, particularly when I needed her as a teenager in rural Kentucky. She was my beacon of hope for what my future could be, the inspiration for the kind of woman I’d become. I truly don’t know how I would’ve ended up in New York without her!
I have also bought sooo much shit because of her influence. In January 2022, I was influenced by TikTok to get a prescription for Tretinoin as a way to prevent signs of aging and help with occasional pimples. I started getting what I thought were the “Tretinoin Uglies,” or purging breakouts from my skin after introducing such a high-dose retinoid to my face. After 8 months, my skin never got over the purge and even got worse. I’d cry because I was waking up every single day with a new pimple. Not only were they incredibly painful, but I started experiencing something dissociative. I could barely recognize myself when I looked into the mirror.
I never had acne as a teenager. I had no idea I had acne-prone skin. I’d google what other products to use to counteract my breakouts, leading me to eventually dry out my moisture barrier on my face with Dr. Dennis Gross AHA/BHA Facial Peel Pads since I was using them EVERY DAY, as a TikTok told me to. I thought Skincare Internet was going to make me bulletproof from aging and breakouts, but it ended up destroying my face.