I felt it. One touch, and I whimpered. One touch and my finger never felt farther away from me. What was it? How can it be that Mount Everest made it to my face? Why did it hurt so bad?
I flush the cold, white toilet, still groggy and crabby from my mom yelling at me to wake
up for school. I swear her high-pitched voice makes me so irritated sometimes. I drag myself to the sink and throw cold water on my face, hoping it will scare my eyes open. My dad swears it helps. I keep telling him I’m old enough for coffee, but he and mom say I can’t drink it until I start high school. They say something about it stunting my growth – but all my friends drink it, and they are taller than me. Whatever. I have one more year, so is it worth arguing against?
And then I see it – a large, red bump on my face with a disgusting white tip. What in the
actual world is on my face? I rub my eyes and slap myself in the face. This isn’t real; I must be dreaming. No – the mirror is dirty. It just cannot be real. I clean the mirror with water and my 10-year-old face towel I always rely on.
My heart immediately drops. It’s still there – that disgusting mountain a centimeter
below my bottom lip. I open my mouth, prepared to call my mom, but once I open my mouth, I whimper instead. It hurt so bad! It felt like I got stabbed in my upper lip. I want to get rid of it, but it’s too painful. I am lost and in pain.
I text my mom to come immediately because it’s an emergency, and two seconds later, she frantically knocks on my bathroom door. I open the door and show her my bottom lip. She lets out a sigh and chuckles, “It’s acne, darling! Don’t worry about it; it happens as you get older! Don’t touch it and finish getting ready, or else you’ll be late for school.” She then turns around and leaves me alone once again. Seriously? How am I going to go to school like this? It’s horrible and hurts so much. I am pissed, slamming the door as she leaves, slightly taken aback by the loudness.
I thought about the words my mom said; it happens as you get older. I understood puberty – I understood that you get your period, your breast grows – but acne? It’s so ugly and painful. I want to squeeze it, but it hurts too much. Nobody else has it. Why am I cursed with it? A tear trickles down my face. For the first time, I realized that, for once, I could not overcome this mountain.
As I stare into the mirror I cleaned for the first time in my life this morning; I realize how, more than anything, I want to grow up. I want to live without a curfew, live on my own terms, and drink all the coffee I want, but I never thought that getting there would be so painful – and ugly. I always idolized growing up. I see my siblings staying out until 11 pm and not needing to call my mom about their every move and going to parties. I thought it meant things were always getting better and being freer, but I feel far from that right now. I’m in pain; I feel ugly. Can I please just skip to the good part? Please, God, let me fly over this mountain.