It started when I was fifteen years old, and like an ugly shadow it followed me around for the next ten years. It would defy every dermatologist and their expensive prescriptions, treatments with over-the-counter products, ongoing six a.m. antibiotics that created nausea beyond belief, and even Accutaine¾the “Miracle Drug”. It would engage me in a 15-year war against myself. It was acne and it was NOT my friend. It stole my self-confidence and made me think and feel that there was something wrong with me. There is no battle as emotionally taxing as one that makes you feel as if your own body is working against you. Your face is what you present to the world – it is your calling card…and my card was marked with embarrassing sores and pain. Why me? So, as I said when my acne problems started I was just a teenage guy. I played some sports, which, of course, seemed to make it worse. It made me much shyer than I would have otherwise been. Fortunately, I had some good friends and a girlfriend who didn’ t care about my acne other than how it made me feel. I was in many activities and my acne problem was always right there with me, front and center! When people looked at me all I could think was that all they were seeing was the ugly acne on my face. It depressed me and influenced my thoughts and decisions. I was not happy at all, so I tried to find ways to calm it down. My family and even some of my friends tried to give me all kinds of advice. “Don’t eat chocolate,” they would say. “Stay away from fish,” they would offer. (Easy, I don’t like fish!) However, the acne was still there to greet me each and every morning. I bought and tried every over-the-counter product, and finally went to several dermatologists. Some were helpful to me but most were not. One would say it was what I was eating and another would tell me it had nothing to do with that at all. I was frustrated and confused. I was constantly washing my face and becoming more embarrassed as the cysts and bumps continued their cycle of increasing month after month. Sometimes I would sit for hours with the soap drying on my face hoping to kill the acne, but it did not work. Once I got so angry and frustrated I slapped my very own face! Deep somewhere inside of me I felt there was something wrong with me and that my own body was at war with me.