Untitled.

Acne Update: (as if you care)

My skin is back to it's original, clear state, and cheese is once again a staple in my diet (along with coffee, cream, meat, wine, vodka, etc.) thanks to Doxycycline working miracles.   Why I didn't just go back on doxy the first time around blows my mind.  The doxy stopped any new zits from forming the moment I started taking it, and the cysts that could still be felt under my skin that had persisted through almost four months of spironolactone treatment have subsided into nothingness after only 3 weeks of doxy.  I mean,  I almost passed out one day on the F train due to nausea that was so terrible I thought I was going to faint, but at least my skin is clear :D  :D :D :D  There is a saying my sister always used when she was putting eyeliner on my lower lash line for dance recitals when I was but a young girl of 8:  "Beauty is pain." Ah yes, those words still ring true today. lol.

 I will say, however, that nothing is more embarrassing than when you're on a crowded train and start sweating profusely, get weak in the knees, and start dry-heaving.   The only thing worse is actually vomiting in a train station (yes, I have been there also... I keep it classy guys ;)  ).  I took my meds at an unusually early hour after getting NO sleep one night and taking the pill on an empty stomach at 6:30am, and the results were not OK.  If you've ever passed out, you'll know what I'm talking about when I describe the feeling of the corners of your vision getting black and the sweat that starts dripping down your forehead and how your whole body goes tingly and weak.  It's one thing to feel like this in the safety of co-workers and/or friends (yes, I passed out once when I was working part-time at Claire's in college... but at least I got to leave my shift early), but it is quite another to feel this way in the already grimy and scary atmosphere that is the NYC subway.   I was forced to get off at 34th street and sit on the nasty, wooden bench, dry-heaving as men in suits walked by me with concerned looks on their faces.  I should have just called out of work right then and there since I felt like I was about to die... alas, I still went in after calling my mom.  You know the situation is bad when you feel so sick that you call your mother crying despite the fact your a grown-ass adult.  My poor mom...    The only other time I've had to de-board a train mid-journey was the day I vommed sitting next to two bums on a grimy, wooden bench after I drank two bottles of wine on an empty stomach.  WORST HANGOVER EVER... I would NOT recommend to anyone.

I am going home next weekend for the first time since Christmas.  I'm pretty excited to have some quality time with my brother and cousin and friends.  I can't wait to cook for my parents, see my son (Bijou) and baby (Ceely), and wake up to a pot of already made coffee...  the best part about being home is definitely being spoiled by my parents.  I'm happy I don't go home regularly anymore, otherwise they might take my visits for granted and not treat me so well... jk (but not really).  I am sure my mom and dad will cook me all of my favorite things (London Broil on the grill, crab cakes, chicken dumpling soup... OMG, salivating at the very thought).  Nothing says 'true love' the way food does.  I think this is where I get the cooking gene.  They always say the best way to a man's heart is thru his stomach, but I find that the best way to show people how much you appreciate and love them is to cook for them in general (yes, even if you're just making me Easy-Mac or a PB&J sandwich it probably means you love me).

It will also be nice to actually have off a real "weekend" since my "weekends" have been consisting of Monday/Tuesdays the past couple of months.  I think the last time I had a legitimate weekend was last summer when I went to see NIN and took off a Saturday and Sunday together.  I don't really know what a weekend feels like anymore... especially not one spent with people who are also simultaneously off with me.  I haven't even had two days in a row off with my boyfriend in over a month.... :D #blessed.  GOD I LOVE HIS JOB :D :D :D :D :D :D (in case you didn't already know :D ).

In other news, I live a boring ass life.

In other, other news, I'll leave you all with some slutty selfies and a lil' story I wrote.

First The Story: 

Once upon a time, (yes, that's how every great tale of woe begins...), there was a big, fake-titted, fake-silicon-worm-lipped maiden who worked at a strip club and also as a "VIP bottle hostess."  Her name was Candy,  Candy Cane.  She claimed she was 22, but everyone knew bitch was AT LEAST 32 (and that is being generous).  Maybe the two silicon, bolt-on, Frankenstein, titty-sacks on her chest were 22, but she sure as hell was NOT.  Like a bicycle, she'd been around the block numerous times, and she knew exactly what was up.  In addition to "VIP bottle waitressing," she also moonlighted as a high-paid escort; she flew on private jets, lived in one of the most exclusive NYC hotels (I know... right???!!!), and regularly went on "solo" vacations to luxury destinations like Dubai, the Cayman Islands, Paris, etc.  How she afforded such luxuries on a "bottle waitress salary" really blew the minds of her friends, because clearly she never admitted the truth.  The truth being that she made the bulk of her money peddling her beat-up pussy around the financial district of NYC.  If you meet a 55 year old, overweight dude driving a Maserati or some other sports car, and if this dude works downtown or owns a series of steak houses around the world, chances are, he has fucked Candy. 

But you know what?  At least she wasn't tied down.  In fact, she was using men to her own, personal gain the way they used her- just in different ways.  Candy had her freedom, and through her sluttiness, she was able to support herself, travel the world, meet new people. discover new things, and live in perfectly content luxury compared to most of the other single girls her age she knew. Unlike the others, at least she wasn't slaving her life away at a job she fucking hated, making only enough money to make ends meet.  At least she wasn't tied down to some boyfriend who was never fucking home and when he was home was still working and didn't pay attention to her.  At least she was traveling the world at the expense of someone else.  She didn't have to scrimp and save for a vacation; dude's flew her to exotic locals just so they could smother themselves in her fake breasts (Please note- if a man is ever into this look, he is not a classy man at all).   So what if she slept around? So what if she looked like a monkey with two inflated earthworms on her face and two inflated life-rafts on her chest?  She was happy and thriving... while most were not.

In another room, in another part of town,  in another realm of twisted reality, was the very opposite sort of girl from Candy...

Eleanor sat alone listening to Nirvana, drinking an expensive, red wine better suited for a dinner party than solitude and a laptop.  She was contemplating jumping off of her terrace. She had a pretty nasty coke comedown... I suppose that explains her suicidal tendencies at the moment that this story is unfolding.  In addition to a heavy intake of coke, she also indulged in adderall the entirety of the week preceding up to the time and date upon which this story is meant to be taking place.  Let's just say- she was fucked in more ways than one... and none of them were sexual (sadly)... She was sleep deprived, depressed, in the midst of one nasty comedown.  To put it bluntly, she was basically like 50% of all young New Yorkers at any given time.  She was one of the masses, even though she liked to think she was special.  She was trying to be special, and just coming out generic.  She was low-down, wanna be intellectual, creatively crippled hipster trash. 

This wasn't her first rodeo and it wasn't her last.  She basically hit this low every-other-week following a night of partying and recreational drug use.  The ultimate New York high followed by the ultimate New York low. She didn't really even know why she lived in New York anymore... her acting career was going nowhere, she hadn't been on one audition in the past year and a half.  The job she had to pay her rent was the very bane of her very existence, and even her relationship made her sad... She felt as though she was never enough.  But that wasn't anyone's fault but society's... yeah man, society... SOCIETY SOCIETY (she was having a Christopher McCandles moment...). 

Thank fucking God for the adderall in her kitchen cupboard she thought... otherwise she might not wake up nor would she be thin. It was a pitiful living situation, if you could even call it living.  Merely "existing" was the term she most preferred.  She remembered the most beautiful days... the days when she was young enough that none of the material things mattered... her job didn't matter because youth was on her side then.  When she first moved to this city, full of dreams, full of hope and possibilities, full of love... things were different.  She was a different girl and she had the world by the balls.  Now she was consumed by hatred.  Hate for almost everyone around her, hate for her life, and hate for herself.  She hated herself for working so hard just to get by, and in turn, putting her dreams on a back-burner.  If only there was a way to pay bills and do what she loved without selling herself or becoming one of the Candys of the world, life would be so effortless and carefree.  

One fine day, Eleanor stumbled across a dominatrix ad whilst job searching on Craigslist.  She decided to answer just for the hell of it to see if she would get a response.  Sure enough, she did get a response.  For even though Eleanor had nothing real going for her, she was still pleasing on the eye and men loved her.  

And so it was that little Eleanor became a cold-hearted, domineering bitch who beat naked men with a riding crop for money.  One day, Eleanor actually decided that she wanted to be a man.  She started dressing like one and even going out as one.  She was inspired by Bruce Jenner, whom was the only cast member of "Keeping Up With The Kardashians" that she ever really took a liking too.  "If ol' Brucey can come out of the closet and openly live his life as a woman, than by God, I can live my life as a man!" she thought.  

On a beautiful summer night, Eleanor (who now went by Ethan) was making the rounds in Meatpacking.  She had become a club-scene-kid-type-regular.  In fact, women and gays flocked to her more than they did to Amanda Lepore.  Yes, Ethan (formerly known as Eleanor) had stolen the hearts of gays, MDMA users, silicon-titted slutbags, and club kids the world over.  She was an Instagram sensation!!!!! Shit, she   he, almost had more followers than Miley F*cking Cyrus.  Anyhow, I digress... 

One night, Ethan was making the rounds downtown.  First she hit up Le Bain, than it was onto STK, and finally she went toooooo (drum roll please...) DDDDDDDDddddddDDDdddddddddl.......... TAO!!!! Yes, ladies and gents, he ended up at Tao, the most preferred club/restaurant of gold-diggers and old, rich men the world over.  At this point, Ethan (pronounced E-taan), had made a name for himself.  He was "Instagram" famous, and got all manner of free shit from brands looking for a spokesperson.  As known as he was though, Ethan was technically not rich, although people were fooled into thinking he was given the fact that he dressed in expensive, custom tailored jeans and jackets, the finest Italian calf-leather shoes, and got the VIP treatment everywhere he went.  Well, the point is, that on this fine night in June, Ethan met Candy.  YES- Candy Cane.  Candy Cane was a fame whore/gold digging bitch and was fooled by the finery that caressed Ethan's slender frame.  She followed him on the gram and knew that he traveled to all the hottest spots, dined at the finest restaurants, and generally assumed he was rich.  She had no clue that Ethan was once a girl, and that she actually used to work with Ethan at the club where she bottle waitressed.  Ethan was the bathroom attendant back then... just a lowly, albeit pretty, bathroom attendant in the women's room.  Even though Candy did not recognize Ethan, Ethan surely knew Candy and decided to play a game by leading her on.  You see, Candy used to always steal Ethan's lollipops, tampons, and use the free hairspray and NEVER ONCE did this bitch tip poor, poor Ethan (whom was still Eleanor back then).  

Ethan got a table for the two of them, and made sure to order a fucking parade of Doms with ALL THE SPARKLERS... aLL THE FUCKINg  SParkLERS!!!!!! YES.  He ordered the most expensive things on the menu for Candy, even though he knew she was the type that would take one bite of each course before spitting it secretly into her napkin and then hiding it in her clutch.  Yes, sadly Candy had a serious chew-and-spit eating disorder (although you'd never actually realize how thin she was because her ginormous breasts were very deceptive and made onlookers think she was curvy).  Poor Candy.  She was the most insecure girl you'd ever meet- which is why she sold her body and got monthly injections of botox at the "tender age of 22."  

Anyhow, Ethan roofied Candy's champagne.  Once Candy was falling asleep at the dinner table, Ethan told one of the fine Tao bottle servers to call a car service and slipped her a $400 tip for doing so (I know, I know... Ethan isn't rich.. he used fake bills).  The car arrived and Ethan took Candy home.  Home being a ghetto-fab loft he shared with 3 other dudes in Bushwick.  Hey!- I told you, he isn't actually rich... he just gets a lot of freebies and therefore seems rich.  Anyhow, Ethan took Candy into his room and tied her up.  When she awoke 12 hours later, (remember now kids, she was roofied...), Ethan asked her "Do you know who the f*ck I am??? What's my mother fucking name bitch?"   Candy was dumb-founded.  And then Ethan stripped naked and she realized he was a woman.  Then Ethan got up in her face so that they were nose-to-nose.  "Do YOU KNOW WHO I AM NOW????"  GASP! "Like, OMG, Like, You used to be a bathroom attendant at the club!"  Ah Ha! 

Now that Candy knew what was up, Ethan could execute his plan with maximized satisfaction on his end.  Ethan buzz-cut Candy's hair, pulled off her fake eye lashes, pulled off her acrylic nails, and put a mirror in front of her on the floor.  She was still tied to the end of his bed, and she was forced to stare at her own reflection in the mirror.  She started sobbing.  "Well, that's enough damage for today... I really shouldn't do anymore harm" Ethan said.  And with that, he chopped her head off with a pair of fabric scissors and dumped her sad, fake body down the garbage shoot.  The end. 

My favorite outfit ever, still going strong after a year. 

Last summer... selfie noir.  

In other news, I'm going to three awesome concerts this summer (ACDC, U2, and Incubus) and currently planning a three day, Woodstock Bender.  That's about the only thing keeping me going right now.  I give up on finding another job.  I will die penniless, and alone, wearing Mollister clothes.  

I'm Writing this Entry on the Brink of Insanity.

If you're reading this, it's only because my skin is better and I am mentally more sound as a result.  I wrote this over two weeks ago now, when I was nearly suicidal, could hardly look at myself in the mirror, and spent two hours sobbing on the phone to my mother.  I am only posting this blog, because despite the fact that my audience of readers consists of maybe 2.5 people total (hahaha), I want anyone who is in the same boat I was in to know that they are not alone if they are struggling with acne or other skin issues.  It sucks because it isn't always genetic, nor is it caused by what you put in or on your body.  I thank God and modern medicine that Doxycycline has cleared me up in a matter of two weeks (KNOCK ON WOOD... hope I didn't just jinx myself ;p ), otherwise I'm not sure how I would have gone on.  I pray that my acne does not come back as I finally have my self confidence restored and no longer feel like hibernating in my apartment or avoiding public situations as I wanted to do the past few weeks.

The doxycycline makes me feel nauseous as fuck, but at least all I have left at this point are fading red marks and I haven't gotten a single new blemish since I started taking the med two weeks ago.  My skin was super dry the other day, but I'd rather take a few flakes then another cyst deforming my face.   I feel so much better that I can't even describe it.  Nothing has radically changed in my life with the exception of my face, but I feel like I am on top of the world again and in control of my life.  I think it's the boost in confidence, but I already scored two interviews for this coming week (wish me luck)!

Below, is an entry I wrote approximately two weeks ago when I was quite convinced nothing would ever help me again and the end was very near...



March 31, 2015

I plan on posting this blog after my acne is resolved... if it ever is... I know this sounds overly dramatic, but I cannot possibly go on like this.  My self-confidence is non-existent despite the fact that I post a plethora of slutty selfies on my social media accounts, which might  have lead you to believe I feel otherwise.  I think that I am mostly trying to convince myself that I'm attractive since it's a daily struggle to even look at myself in the mirror after a shower with no makeup on.   I don't even let my own boyfriend see me without make up on anymore... and the dude has seen a lot of shit many would consider worse than a face full of zits with the antics I pull...  You know it's bad when you'd rather have your boyfriend see you naked and vomiting off the side of the bed then without your concealer on...

After a lot of research and weighing the pros and cons, I've made a decision tonight that I will go on Accutane if the doctor can't provide me with a slightly less traumatizing treatment plan.  I'm willing to give it one more attempt using a slightly less harmful drug alternative Friday when I have yet ANOTHER dermatology follow-up appointment.  If I have to plead with my dermatologist and get down on my knees and cry to get my point across I will.  That's what this has come down to.  This is an issue that just hasn't resolved despite months of being on Spironolactone for hormonal acne and upping the dosage from 50mg to 100mg a day.  I was so hopeful that this shit would work, since I read so many reviews and it is supposedly had positive outcomes in 85% of cases.  I guess I'm not the 85%...   At least I didn't experience any negative side effects.  That's a plus I guess...

MY EXPERIENCE WITH CYSTIC, ADULT ACNE

As you may or may not know (not that you really care in the first place), my skin was pretty perfect until I was about 24.  I always thought acne was something only experienced by teenagers... not women well into their twenties.  I experienced my first bad breakout after moving to NYC in fall of 2012 and my condition improved for a while, but this fall (October of 2014) I started getting major, painful, distorting cysts that just WILL NOT GO AWAY.

When I experienced my first breakout in Fall of 2012, I assumed it was from the environmental change I experienced after moving from clean, Upstate New York, to dirty-ass NYC.  I honestly just thought it was an extra bad case of the usual 'monthly zit,' and I thought I could take care of it without seeing a doctor.  After trying to cut out sugar and "bad" foods from my diet and trying a variety of over the counter products, I couldn't take it any longer.  After a month or so of trying to fight the cysts appearing on my chin and then gradually on my cheeks, I made a dermatology appointment and demanded meds.  I was put on Doxicyline (an antibiotic used specifically for treating acne) along with two topical cremes- aczone and another one I forget the name of now...

After about 3 months, the doxicycline seemed to have had a positive effect.  My acne was gone, my face was back to normal, and I only broke out during 'that time of the month,' which is no biggie after you know what it's like to have cysts that don't come to a head or really go away.  The doxicycline was pretty brutal on my body while I was on it though. It caused me to have major headaches that wouldn't go away even with copious amounts of water and advil, and I always felt nauseous for a couple of hours after I took it so I lost weight because I wanted to vom at the thought of food.   However, it worked in that it made my cysts disappear and new ones didn't pop up.  I was acne free for about a year and half.   During that time, I probably took my clear skin for granted and forgot how that brief bout of acne really even affected me.   Then, in October 2014, THIS HAPPENED:

I know, right??? My entire chin was distorted by two MAJOR zits... they were painful as fuck- like, I swear to God they had a pulse.  I could feel them hot and pulsing underneath the surface of my skin, and I was in terrible pain.  It hurt to smile or perform any sort of facial expression that stretched the skin on or around my jaw/chin.  Not to mention they just couldn't be popped because they were underground and wouldn't come to a head.   They seriously distorted my entire chin, as you can clearly see.  I was not only in physical pain, but emotional pain as well since I looked like Jay Leno.  I felt like a goddamn monster.  This is when I realized something was not normal and I first went to the dermatologist demanding help.  Sadly for me, I looked like this over Christmas with my family and even on New Years Eve.  To some it may sound petty, but when you're fucking face looks distorted, it's hard to feel hot/pretty/appealing.

 On December 17th, 2014, I finally went to the derm.  I was prescribed Spironolactone.  Spironolactone is actually a blood-pressure medicine/diuretic.   However, it stops androgen production, which is why it is commonly prescribed for hormonal acne- the type that I have.  The doctor said that a lot of women in their twenties and thirties get hormonal acne, since it is a time of major change within the hormonal balance.  I guess it's because I should be getting pregnant by evolutionary standard, or some shit like that... or my hormones would balance out if I were pregnant, which, evidently my body wants me to be.  She said a lot of women go on birth control to balance out their hormones and see effective results.  However, I have been on an oral contraceptive for about five years, and during that time I went from having perfect skin, to this mess. I also went from being moderately insane, to full fucking blown crazy during that time of the month.  Pretty sure birth control has done me more harm than anything else at this point.   I asked if there was any other factors that might be triggering it.  Stress is a factor, but as I sit here writing this, I realize I've been running on the same stress level for about 3 years, and during that time I've had a couple bad breakout yes, but I've also had really clear skin even during times of HEAVY stress, like when I was dating/breaking up with my ex.  I don't think stress alone is what triggered this shit.  I asked about sleep and diet as well.  Clearly not sleeping enough is bad for your skin, as is a poor diet.  However, I don't even eat sweets or chocolate the way I did in college, nor do I eat fast food, processed food, chips, or greasy/fried foods.  I'm sure we all know people who live on greasy and processed food and have better, clearer skin than anyone.  I guess it all depends on how lucky you are.  Seriously though... it blows.

One myth about acne that I fucking hate is that people who have never had cystic acne think you can clear it up yourself with diet and lifestyle.  I only WISH this were the case.  I was complaining to someone at work and they were like, "Do you wash your pillow case?"  UMMMMM WTF?! lol.  I was highly offended.  No shit sherlock- I wash/change my pillow case on a bi-weekly basis and it still makes no difference.  "Have you been eating chocolate?" Um no... I've basically been subsisting on fucking health food for the past two months in coincidence with the meds trying to treat my body as kindly as possible and am breaking out worse than fucking ever.

I just want to be able to feel comfortable in my own skin without excessive amounts of foundation and concealer on.  I want to be able to wear makeup less often and in smaller amounts.  Either I walk around with red spots and lumps on display without makeup (which I absolutely will not do), or I do what I have been doing and cake on the liquid foundation and concealer.  This covers the redness, but it creates flaky, awful looking skin when the zit starts drying out or pealing.  It also doesn't help when your zit is the size of a fucking chickpea and/or Mt. Everest, and no amount of makeup can disguise it.  The concealer balances out the color, but I'm still left with a huge, flesh-toned, painful cyst that creates a lumpy jawline and shadows on my face.  Makeup doesn't make the zits go away.  I hate seeing myself without makeup because it truly makes me want to cry.   I'm a control freak, and I have no control over my own face, despite my best efforts of controlling what I put in my body or on my face in a futile attempt to exert control over my skin's reaction.

This is me, right now with no makeup on.  Sexy, right? ;)

It started on my chin, and in the 

past two weeks, despite the increased dosage of Spiro, it has manifested itself on my cheeks now... FUCKING SWEEEEEEET :(

I'm afraid if my acne gets any worse, I'll have terrible scarring.  When the cysts go down (which seriously takes them about a month each), I am left with red marks that literally take like 7 months to fade away.  It's pretty awful.  

Since I've tried pretty much every option out there, and this week I've decided to do a brutal diet/cleanse as a last resort.  It can't hurt at this point right?  At least I will be proving to myself that it isn't what is going into my body that's causing my skin to react like this.  I eat plenty of fruits and veggies, minimal meat, minimal dairy (with the exception of cheese once a week), and It's not like I'm abusing Meth or other hard drugs... so if by further limiting myself by cutting out all sugar, gluten, all dairy, and acidic foods I still can't tame this beast internally, then I'm going for the hard shit... meaning the mother of all the acne meds on the market... 

I hope something works soon because I am driving myself and everyone who has to deal with me in this state absolutely INSANE.  I hope that when this entry finally sees the light of day and as you sit here reading this, it is because I have had success with something and my face is finally clear to the point where I don't mind airing my dirty laundry and hideous, makeup free pics in contrast to my new and improved acne free face.   Pray for me. ahahahahahah.  jk.  #blessed