It’s heartbreaking to know that every love interests’ fantasy of me is nothing close to I really look underneath my clothes — filled with unsightly lumps and bumps.
Ladies and gentleman, I have keloids. I have one on my chest (with another one on the way), my right back shoulder, and bikini line. And even less noticeable ones on my jawline.
I could deal with one keloid. Maybe even two. But more than four?! All of these have obliterated my self-esteem into a million pieces. I’ve spent thousands on trying to get rid of ’em under false hopes from dermatologists that they will go away — countless laser treatments, oils, creams, three surgical excisions, numerous steroid injections, CryoShape, cryotherapy. Nothing worked. They either stubbornly stayed put or grew right back. Just when I think “Oh my god! I’m liberated! No more keloids!” A few months later, it rears its ugly head again and it’s back with a vengeance. It’s so frustrating! =(
And I hate the “reassurances” my friends and family attempt to throw at me “Someone will love you just the way you are!”, “Oh stop it! Guys won’t be worried about that, Kim. You’re still a pretty girl!”
I know they mean well, but what they don’t understand is that it’s not what guys think, per se, that makes having keloids difficult — it’s the psychological trauma of having your self-esteem, self-worth, and self-confidence plummet into the depths of hell.
What non-keloiders, including my friends and family, don’t understand is that it’s not so much that I want guys to like me — I WANT ME TO LIKE ME.
That’s all. And the sad part is that… I don’t. I don’t like me. I try to get validation from myself when I look in the mirror — especially when I’m nude — and I just cringe.
And that’s what makes dating with keloids is so ridiculously difficult.
I’ve found myself sabotaging many potential significant others because I knew I wasn’t ready for love.There’s a truth to the saying that “You cannot love without loving yourself first.” I never knew what that truly meant until I started getting into serious relationships.
Compliments such as “You’re so beautiful to me” seemed like lies — pure bullsh** — because I didn’t see that in my reflection. Making love was struggle because you just cannot feasibly be intimate if you’re too self-conscious about the skin you’re in. I began to even feel bad for my partners because I believed they were too good for me — they deserved someone with flawless skin. Not me.
For now, relationships are a no-no. I am too immobilized by the fear of having to someone else — someone I care about — see me blemished with these horrendously ugly masses of overgrown collagen. And my self-esteem issues are aggravated when I’m in relationships because I grow too concerned with what someone else thinks of my appearance — that’s the last thing I need right now. My prime focus is fixing what I think of me.
I know in order to withstand a relationship in the future, I need to fall in love with myself because it would be preposterous and extremely damaging to expect someone else to do it for me.
Sometimes I wonder if I am cursed. “What did I do to deserve this?” And then I find myself bawling at night.
This dirt-poor self confidence of mine even affects my career aspirations. I once wanted to be a TV news reporter and nowadays I dream about hosting a docu-series for Vice News. But let’s be honest here. Everyone on TV barely has any acne — let alone keloids. Pfft. It’s a visual medium. It’s always been that way. So I get it. But there goes my lifelong dreams, just yanked away just like that, thanks to my f***ing keloids.
The only time I am happy in life is when I forget these things exist. But I realize the only way to accept my keloids is to embrace them and learn to love ’em as part of me.
But the question is, how the f*** do I do that?”