I’ve suffered from spots since the age of 13.  At first they were nothing serious and, importantly, nothing more than a whole bunch of other kids my age were putting up with.  As I grew up, however, my problem intensified, rather than subsided.  Large areas of my face were constantly inflamed and sore to the touch, and cleansing in the morning and at night was an ordeal, to say the least.  Unsurprisingly, this made school hell for me.  While my friends were able to see through the problem to the person underneath, something as obvious as spots on your face is cannon fodder for kids whose tender years and immaturity prevent them from grasping the value of compassion.

I tried every new lotion or potion that came onto the market.  I went to the doctor and was prescribed medication, which I took religiously.  I was obsessed with my skin, and would spend hours in front of the mirror at night, peering at it, willing it to clear itself up.  All to no avail.  By the time I was 19, I was taking the strongest acne drug out there, dubbed the “last resort”, so powerful it dries your face and lips out to the point where they will crack and bleed unless you repeatedly slather them with moisturiser.   That particular drug carries a raft of unpleasant side effects such as liver damage, conjunctivitis and bowel disease (nice).  What’s more, if a female taking the drug becomes pregnant at any time during the course of treatment there’s a worryingly strong chance that the unborn baby will be severely disabled by it.

I think I was probably too young at the time to have developed any concrete opinions on taking medication like this.  I was also deeply self-conscious, embarrassed of my skin and as such would probably have eaten a live lizard if it had promised to rid me of my troubles.  And the strong drugs did, to an extent.  My skin cleared up after a few months, and for the first time in over six years I felt as though I could leave the house feeling confident, rather than cowering under a roll neck top and twelve layers of bravado.  To me, it was a miracle.

My face remained clear for a year or so, but by the time I was turning 21 it was starting to redevelop spots and inflammation – not to the same extent that it once had, but it was still painfully noticeable to me, the person who had just had a passing glance at life without it.  And that’s pretty much where I’ve been ever since.  My skin is far from perfect, but I can live with it.  I’m no longer wary of going outside, or of getting close to small children who, in their endearingly honest manner, will point and ask what’s wrong with my face.  Nevertheless, I have always dearly hoped to find a solution that would cure it for good.

And here’s the interesting part: I think I might have found one.

Just lately, I’ve been reading more about the dietary causes of a skin condition like acne.  And what I’ve discovered has astonished me.  You see, I absolved myself of responsibility for the condition of my skin at a very early stage (to be fair, I think teen hormones had more to do with my initial outbreak than any of my lifestyle choices).  It just never occurred to me that it might be my fault, in any way.  As such, it wasn’t until recently that I started to ask myself whether there might be something in my lifestyle that’s giving my skin grief.

The more I’ve read, however, the more I’ve come to believe that that’s exactly where the root of the problem lies.  Acne is a predominantly Western phenomenon.  As far as I can tell, it barely exists in countries such as India, where the culinary emphasis is on fresh, unrefined foods.  The Western diet, whether we like it or not, is the opposite: heavily refined, complex carbohydrates, sugars and starch that the body finds incredibly difficult to digest and use.  As such, the flow of blood around the body isn’t packed full of vitamins and nutrients which the skin can pilfer for its repair purposes.  Instead, the foods remain improperly digested, and eventually they start to secrete trouble-making toxins, carried around the body to the detriment of the skin (amongst other organs).

And the staggering thing is that you don’t even have to eat an obviously bad diet to cause yourself problems.  I’ve always considered myself a healthy eater: I adore vegetables, for example, and I eat lots of fruit.  I’m partial to cakes, but I rarely eat chocolate or biscuits and while I openly confess my love of pizza, I always make my own and cram it full of mushrooms, olives and other good things.

But it’s often the seemingly innocuous foods that can be the worst offenders.  Dairy products such as cows’ milk, cheese and yoghurt, which all contain lactose, can be difficult for the body to digest.  Bread, cereals and pasta – a large part of the make up of many a British diet – can be high in yeast and gluten, both of which can cause havoc when it comes to their processing.  And then there are the obvious offenders: sugar, which prompts the body to mass produce insulin, thereby raising the levels of the hormone testosterone (a known acne trigger) and caffeine, which, if not consumed in moderation, can prevent the absorption of essential minerals such as zinc.

So what’s the solution?  Well, it’s called the anti-acne diet or, as I’m dubbing it, the ‘Oh my God I never knew I could be so healthy’ diet.  It’s incredibly simple, especially at this time of year: lots of fruits and vegetables, lots of nuts, seeds and pulses, plenty of fish and gallons and gallons of water.  No red meat for a while, no dairy products (I’m quickly discovering a whole host of dairy-free options that taste great – soya yoghurt anyone?) and a maximum intake of two cups of tea and two of coffee per day.  And absolutely no obviously bad stuff, such as crisps, chips and, sob sob, pizza.

Now I appreciate fully that this eureka moment of mine may seem all too self-evident to some of you.  Why didn’t I think of a dietary change before?  Well, the truth is that I did.  But despite having been long-obsessed with my skin condition, I never wanted it to ruin the other aspects of my life.  I don’t want to forego an exciting novel so I can read books about skincare.  I don’t want to abstain from having pizza or takeaway with my boyfriend because I’m on a diet and I don’t want to say no to invitations to dinner or lunch on the basis that I can’t control what goes on my plate.  Frankly?  That sucks!  I love takeaway, and meals out, and caffeine and cakes!  I love the fact that I have amazing friends who regularly offer to cook for me – I don’t want to be the uptight, prissy individual who throws generosity back from whence it came because there’s a vague chance that it might result in a spot on my face.

And that’s the compromise I’m making with myself now: I follow the anti-acne diet to the letter on the days when I can.  But I won’t let it take over my life.

I’ve only just started on my new eating plan (literally, this is day 5) so I’m going to leave the posting of any results until I have something to tell you all.  I’m also going to write a post about skin care from the outside next week: tackling problem skin needs external solutions as well as internal, it seems.  Also, if anyone wants some reading on the topic, ‘Spotless’ by Elaine Mummery is a book for all ages: clear, concise, and refreshingly free of medical jargon.

Image above from here.