My acne nightmare by Samantha ‘I’m so beautiful’ Brick
Why do women hate me for being beautiful?
MIRROR, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?’ For much of my life when observing my reflection, I would have given that gorgeous poppet gazing back at me a wink, a wiggle and whispered: ‘You are.’
Yet rather horrifically for me – someone known for being supremely confident in her skin – that has been far from the case for the past 12 months. Indeed, it has been a very traumatic time, for I have found myself fighting a battle against an unrelenting enemy far greater than myself: acne.
It gives me no pleasure to confess that I’ve been plagued by the skin affliction, a foe I first faced in my teenage years, and which recently returned with a vengeance.
When I blew out the candles on my 13th birthday cake, I didn’t just wave in puberty, I also began a fraught, long-term relationship with facial blemishes.
I am far from alone – recent research shows that half of women will suffer acne at some point in their lives. Celebrities aren’t immune either: fellow sufferers have included Cameron Diaz, Katy Perry and Victoria Beckham.
I know their pain as I’m someone known for writing about my good looks: most days I like what I see when I look in the mirror. And if I don’t? Well, I can do something about it, such as diet, change the colour of my hair, or refresh my wardrobe.
Yet when it comes to my skin, sadly no amount of confidence, inner poise or make-up can hide an outbreak. Little wonder that I and more than a third of other female acne sufferers will cancel an event when faced with bad skin.
To try to combat the red outbreaks that appeared in my teenage years, I embarked on some rather unorthodox remedies, including my gran insisting on (gleefully) squeezing my ‘pimples’. Meanwhile my GP advised me to sit out in the full glare of the sun to clear up the spots.
I was finally offered a more effective solution aged 19. The contraceptive pill Dianette was my little miracle – not only did it mean I wouldn’t get pregnant, but it also regulated a hormone imbalance my doctor said had caused my acne.
FOR much of my 20s and 30s, acne wasn’t a problem and I’d happily go out make-up-free and have peachy, creamy skin. But in my late 30s my husband and I decided to start a family, so I stopped taking Dianette – and my acne returned in a shot. While coping with the stress of trying to get pregnant, I also had to deal with my horror about my skin. Breakouts on my chin, cheeks and forehead suddenly became a daily occurrence.
In desperation I looked into taking the controversial drug Accutane, which has been linked to suicide in teenagers and depression in other users. It’s a drug noted to be the most effective in permanently ridding sufferers from acne (although the internet is awash with users claiming to undergo multiple courses before it finally clears up).
Yet the drug is totally incompatible with baby-making as it causes foetal deformities in the womb. I was aghast when I saw illustrations of what the drug can do to developing babies. I’m vain – but certainly not that vain.
In February 2012, pushing aside anxieties about my acne, I celebrated my 41st birthday while undergoing my first course of IVF. Sadly it didn’t work. In December that year I made another attempt, which also failed.
After two rounds of fertility treatment within 12 months, at the maximum dose of powerful hormone-enhancing drugs routinely prescribed to older women, what I was left with wasn’t a baby in my arms, but acne worse than ever. Of course if I’d fallen pregnant, it would have been a small price to pay.
The jury’s out on just how long fertility drugs take to leave your system. I assumed the acne – by now on my face, chest and back – would clear up within months. But by the start of last year, after paying for the treatment I wasn’t just £20,000 poorer, I’d also bought myself a permanent outbreak of spots.
Cosmetic dermatologist Dr Sam Bunting isn’t surprised that my skin reacted this way. ‘IVF is provocative for two reasons,’ she explains. ‘One aspect of the treatment is highdose progesterone, a hormone used to help maintain an early pregnancy which aggravates acne – progesterone is what causes a breakout in a significant proportion of women just before their period. IVF is also extremely stressful, which makes for a challenging time for the skin.’
But I couldn’t hide away. Last spring my first book was published, I was expected to appear on television to promote it, and I was building a career as a broadcaster.
The rational me tried to soldier on, assuming make-up artists could work magic. But with breakouts along my hairline and on my cheeks and hormonal red patches around my nose, it was a losing battle. Thanks to the joys of high-definition television, I received countless messages via social media informing me just how ‘rough’ or ‘spotty’ I was looking. For the rest of the year I refused most television requests.
When I saw my GP, I burst into tears. Naturally he didn’t see what the fuss was about and wasn’t sympathetic when I bleated I could no longer work with such awful skin.
After the first consultation, I left with a prescription for tetracycline – a broad-spectrum antibiotic regularly prescribed for moderately severe acne – along with a topical solution containing benzoyl peroxide. My prescription said the solution should contain 2.5 per cent benzoyl peroxide, but a kind female pharmacist took one look at my face and increased it to five per cent.
Three months later, I was still suffering outbreaks so I returned to my GP demanding something more powerful. But when it came to convincing him my spots were getting me down, my argument was diminished because they were never that bad by the time my appointment rolled around. Once more I walked out with a prescription for a topical solution and a broad-spectrum antibiotic that didn’t work.
If I could take any consolation in what I was going through, it is that, according to Dr Bunting, acne is surprisingly common.
‘Lots of women struggle with acne well into their 40s. It’s massively under-estimated how much misery this condition causes women – a lot of them suffer at the hands of dismissive doctors who tell them to stop fretting over a few spots.’
At home I’d go make-up-free, assuming that putting on slap to camouflage red patches was contributing to the cycle.
Luckily my husband Pascal was supportive. While chatting on the telephone, I had a tendency to pick at a blemish, so rather ‘helpfully’ he would holler at me to stop.
By now it was summer, six months had elapsed and I was still no closer to sorting out my skin problem. Desperate to eradicate it permanently, I embarked on an acne-related spending spree that would have most snake-oil salesmen rubbing their hands in glee.
I tried microdermabrasion, using a device at home which, for want of a better description, sanded down my spots. While it worked on the physical appearance, it didn’t stop the underlying problem. Then, while watching late-night television, I was seduced into buying a laser, which was supposed to zap the spots into oblivion. It did nothing of the sort.
Over-the-counter products containing benzoyl peroxide or salicylic acid were too harsh for my middleaged skin. At one point, after using cleansing pads doused in salicylic acid, I found myself miserably staring in the mirror at a red, peeling chin and angry-looking cheeks. I looked as though I’d attacked myself with a cheese grater.
BY SEPTEMBER I was still suffering acne and couldn’t believe I’d now been fighting it in vain for nine months. I had to keep reminding myself that it wasn’t life-threatening. But as anyone who has it knows, it is serious because acne and the scarring that can accompany it can cause depression.
A recent survey backs this up. Witch Skincare’s research shows that a flare-up can leave 36 per cent
Good news for the millions of women enraged by Samantha Brick’s claim that she was hated for being too attractive. She’s not so perfect after all...
of us feeling depressed. Psychologist Jo Hemmings agrees, saying: ‘The appearance of our skin has a huge impact on our inner selfesteem and outward confidence. While most of us are able to disguise a bad hair day, it’s much harder to deal with a bad skin day and having healthy, clear and glowing skin is one of the first things people notice. Little wonder it has such a major impact on our mood.’
In October I saw a dermatologist, who photographed my skin and prescribed a course of lasers and peels. The peels would ‘attack’ the acne, while the laser would magnify the chemical solution’s efficacy. I was shown some before-and-after pictures of other clients for whom the treatment had worked and, without delay, handed over a cheque for £2,000 for six sessions.
Dr Bunting believes this isn’t the way to go. ‘Acne is a chronic disorder that can last decades,’ she says. ‘The problem with peels and lasers is that they don’t correct the fundamental causes.’
Unsurprisingly then, I didn’t notice any real difference. The surface of my skin was admittedly better, but was that because I was advised that, following a laser treatment, I should avoid sunshine at all costs?
At a loss over what else to do, at Christmas I tried an antibacterial product called Silver Serum (skin shop.co.uk) after a girlfriend recommended I try a more natural approach. It doesn’t contain benzoyl peroxide or salicylic acid – instead it has a silver ingredient that kills bad bacteria while maintaining good skin bacteria.
For 12 weeks I used it several times a day and the ‘red beard’ (hormonal red patches that appeared after the IVF treatment) disappeared. My spots became more and more infrequent too.
Naysayers will probably say my acne would have cleared up anyway – and perhaps it would. Whatever the reason for the end of my acne, I am overjoyed. It’s only now that I finally feel ready to work in front of the camera again, and I can even nip to the shops make-up-free. My skin is smooth and peachy once more.
When I look at that reflection in the mirror, once again I rather like what I see.