Living in My Skin

    Ackerman makes it apparent that our skin, the largest organ of the body, is the only part of us that makes contact with the outside world. We spend countless hours and contribute hundreds of dollars throughout our lives making our skin soft, smooth, covered with art, even pierced or stretched. It is the extension of our personalities, a way to express ourselves visually to others. For me and around 50% of the global population, the skin is covered with rough patches and small bumps particularly on the upper arms and thighs, though it can also cover the cheeks and the rear. It’s the result of a harmless skin condition called keratosis pilaris and can be considered a common variant of skin type. 

    It doesn’t bother me much other than the way it looks to others. The bumps are dark-ish red, mostly flush to the skin, and appear as thousands of evenly dotted circles. They’re caused by the excess production of keratin by the body, which blocks hair follicles from emerging. It’s something I always remember having. As a kid, running my hands over my arms, their bumpiness was apparent to me but not significant. It wasn’t until I began to grow older that I began to feel slightly self-conscious about my skin. Why was mine this way, when the skin of others, especially of those in commercials and advertisements, was so normal?

    I asked my mother, and we consulted my doctor (of course she didn’t want me to be self-conscious about any characteristic of myself whether trivial or large) who gave me the keratosis pilaris “diagnosis” (I put this in quotes because of how common the condition really is.) My mom and I immediately went to search for a treatment, some topical lotion, skin scrub, or any cosmetic from our Walmart to possibly solve the issue.  

                                        

(images left to right: SkinStore.com, Amazon)

     I have been testing all kinds of different products since then, although ultimately I decide they do not work and throw them in the closet to live out the rest of their lives. None of these products have made much of a difference in the appearance and texture of my skin, frustration felt among those that suffer from–in my opinion–more difficult skin conditions, such as acne, eczema, or topical steroid withdrawal.

    At the end of it all, it matters not how those around you perceive your skin, but the degree to which you feel comfortable in it. I know it's cliché, but it is a turn of phrase which I have come to agree with when it comes to my own body.