Like more than 90% of teenagers, I had acne throughout late primary and high school. I tried to punish my skin into shape with harsh and stripping products, used a foaming acne cleanser, and was too scared to moisturise in case I broke out. I couldn’t understand why my acne wouldn’t clear up. I thought that thorough cleansing would clear the acne because my skin must be dirty. Sound familiar?

My acne did clear up when I was 19, but it came back in my mid-20s. Sigh. Contrary to popular belief, a lot of people do not ‘grow out of it’. Adult acne affects 64% of people aged 20–29 and 43% aged 30–39.

If I had a party on the weekend, I’d attack spots using a scrub or a squeezing tool. Of course, this made it worse. I put toothpaste on spots after reading about it in a magazine, and one time I even used Borax – a house and laundry cleaning product. It’s used for cleaning so maybe it would ‘clean’ my skin? Unfortunately not. It gave me a chemical burn, and it definitely made the spot worse. 

At the time, my parents insisted all would be OK and that the acne was due to changing hormones. It was, but it was still painful and I had terrible self-esteem. This is not uncommon – skin conditions are linked to issues with mental health and body image, and there is even an emerging field in medicine called psychodermatology, combining a doctor’s experience in dermatology with an understanding of mental health.

Breaking out does not mean your skin is dirty, nor does it mean that you are dirty. It’s a medical condition, much like a headache, and it can be managed. I’d love never to see the word ‘dirt’ in marketing copy for a face wash again. What dirt? Did you dive into a garden bed?

Although my skin has never truly been oily, I moved on to a 3-step skincare system designed for oily skin. But almost any skin type can break out, not just oily skin. Naturally, using a harsh skincare system twice daily, and once again neglecting to moisturise, did me no favours and left my skin angry and stripped of its natural defences.

Classmates commented on my breakouts in a less-than-kind way and I had a couple of partners (whose opinions I gave more time to than I should have) who would criticise my skin, teeth and weight. That’s a discussion for another day but if your partner treats you this way: Dump! Them! Immediately! All of this led to bouts of low self-esteem in my teens to early 20s, as you’d expect.

If you have acne or another skin condition, your skin isn’t bad, it’s simply not functioning as well as it could be. I’d rather build towards being happy and healthy and that’s exactly what we’re going to do together.

The ’00s were a different time, which is something people always say before they try to justify something awful that used to be ingrained. It was trendy to be sample size, breakouts were not seen in media or advertising, and tabloid journalism consisted of unflattering swimsuit photos of women along with comments about their cellulite (which is completely normal by the way) – the perfect recipe for body dysmorphia, distorted self-image and eating disorders.

I came to deeply dislike the use of ‘before and after’ photos for weight loss, procedures, skincare and makeup. While they can be used scientifically if photographed in the exact same conditions or using a special camera, in advertising the two images are often so clearly different. The ‘after’ photo is shot in a studio with makeup and great lighting – and almost definitely retouched in post-production. You can’t compare yourself to that. 

Even though body acceptance has come a long way, these attitudes are still prevalent today in beauty and fitness. We’ve moved from diet culture to wellness culture, but it’s the same thing in a different outfit – ‘you need to lose weight’ is now packaged as ‘everything must be clean, pure and natural’. Both are rubbish. You are valid at any weight, and striving towards wellness leaves behind those who can’t, such as those with a chronic illness. You are valid, ‘well’ or ‘unwell’. This moving target intentionally makes us feel bad about ourselves and our lives, to encourage us to buy more stuff.

But… I’ve always loved beauty. I started wearing makeup at an early age—10 years old—and wanted to be a makeup artist even though people insisted ‘You’re too smart for beauty’. This is in itself a problem. There are many smart, hard-working scientists, business people and beauty therapists involved in the BIG business of beauty.

One Christmas, my aunt gifted me a copy of Don’t Go to the Cosmetic Counter Without Me by Paula Begoun. It changed my life. Paula’s book got me excited about the science behind beauty and the development of skincare, and showed me that you can use your understanding of science and your skin to decide whether or not a product will work for you. In my years of trying and reviewing products, I can tell you that some people will love and get fabulous results from products that I hated on my own skin.

I’d always enjoyed and had a natural aptitude (or what we now know as ADHD hyperfocus) for science class, so it was a no-brainer to put my two favourite things together. After a couple of tries at university (studying media and then fashion styling), I decided to study science, intent on understanding the research behind beauty and what makes the ingredients do what they do. I chose Pharmaceutical Science because pharmacology is the study of our bodies and how different substances affect them, right down to the molecular level. Any substance that alters the function of a bodily process works like a drug, so it makes sense to learn about medical science and pharmacology to address the health of your skin.  

These days, I use my science background and industry experience to try out products and assess skincare claims, to help cut through all of the buzzwords and more-more-more marketing, so we can all find our best skin. I consult on communications and product development for beauty brands, helping
them choose ingredients and testing finished formulas on myself. I also review products for social media and publications, trying and comparing them and communicating how they interact with the skin (not just my own) in-depth.

Now, in my early 30s, my skincare has taken a turn towards ‘anti-ageing’ , but this terminology doesn’t sit well with me either. I know we’re all afraid of showing our mortality, but I also know that looking like myself only a few years older is hardly the worst thing in the world. 

I’ve also seen the phrases ‘authentic ageing’ and ‘well-ageing’, but I don’t love those either. There is no obligation to age well, or authentically. You can age as inauthentically as you like. Because who is the judge of that? What’s the benchmark? Let’s just keep our skin happy and functional and enjoy ourselves and our lives.

Let’s not assign a moral value like ‘good’ or ‘bad’ to our skin as we tend to internalise this kind of messaging and think of ourselves as ‘good’ or ‘bad’ as a result. Then we punish our skin when it really needs some love. 

If you have acne or another skin condition, your skin isn’t bad, it’s simply not functioning as well as it could be. I’d rather build towards being happy and healthy and that’s exactly what we’re going to do together.

This is an edited extract from Your Best Skin by Hannah English published by Hardie Grant Books. RRP $29.99.