What's Wrong with Your Face?

As I was preparing for my last event, I had struggled to pick an outfit that wouldn’t be too uncomfortable, too hot, or too ugly. As I was dressing, I knew the first two were likely covered, but the last one was not a slam dunk. However, looking in the mirror, I cynically thought that my rosacea would steal the show of my appearance no matter what I was wearing.

Rosacea is a chronic inflammatory skin condition. The exact cause of rosacea is unknown, but most doctors agree the mechanisms of the disease occur through a combination of genetics, an overactive immune system, and environmental factors. My grandma had rosacea. My Mom has it. My aunt and cousin have it. I’ve written a zine about it. I’ve tried countless over-the-counter products and a number of prescription remedies. All it takes is heat, exercise, or stress and I’m in a full flare. Not only can you see it (and it’s all I see when I look in the mirror), it hurts. It burns. It stings. I was lucky, not having terrible skin issues as a young person. But in my late 30s, the redness made its first appearance. And it seems the more I worry about it, the worse it becomes.

My loved ones say it isn’t that noticeable. They are possibly experiencing habituation or change blindness (or just being kind). Still, I always know in the back of my mind, my rosacea is likely the first thing people see. I avoid having photos taken. I don’t enjoy selfies. My profile photos are always of cats. It’s one of the reasons I avoid events, and if I must go I prefer to wear dark clothes and sit in the back of the room. I’m not at my best in person. Face-to-face, I’m always at a disadvantage and it shows in my appearance as well as my discomfort. With folks I know, I often make the first strike and call it out right away “oh, boy! the stress/weather/heat has gotten to me and my rosacea is on fire! ha!”. With others, I just cross my fingers and hope their manners will keep their chatter on the back burner until they get home.

Night of the event. The tables are set. The guests have arrived. The event has begun. So much time and effort has gone into preparation. These events take so much time, resources, and energy in the months ahead prior and for the night itself. It’s exhausting. When I look around, it seems like everything is going well and everyone is having a good time. I’ve done everything I needed to do, greeted everyone, made my presentation. I go to the restroom to wash my hands, and there it is.

“What’s wrong with your face?”

Years from now I won’t remember the theme of the evening, the details of my speech, how much money was raised, or anything else. I will remember I had a stress-induced flare, and that everyone noticed.