My Benzoyl Peroxide Dilemma

I've been a GR8/SKN user and fan for over a year. My favorite product in the line? Clean, because I strongly believe that healthy skin begins with a good cleanser—one that maintains the pH of my skin and keeps my epidermis working like the defensive linebacker that it is.

But I admit it: sometimes I slip up. This June, I left my apartment in Pennsylvania to vacation with my mom and sister in Virginia. I packed meticulously—or so I thought. Toothbrush? Check. Seven pairs of underwear? Check. GR8/SKN products? Nope, and boy, did I regret that oversight.

The trip started out roughly. My skin had more blemishes than a pre-pubescent teenager; so much for being out-of-the-woods in my mid-twenties. I was panicking, because I had no means to battle the ever-increasing vanguard of zits cropping up along my hairline. I didn't want to reach for one of those questionable DIY remedies like toothpaste or baking soda. I opted for something FDA-approved: my mom's clinical-looking "Acne Cream" sitting in a basket next to her sink.

I should have known better from the packaging design alone. The tube was red and white with ugly, block typography. But the sub-title was the real hazard sign: "High Dose Benzoyl Peroxide."

GR8/SKN products avoid this often-used ingredient due to its potential to dry out and irritate your skin; I haven't touched the stuff since making the GR8/SKN leap in 2014.

It's an understatement to say that my poor epidermis didn't react well. When I woke up the following morning, I didn't look like I was going through puberty anymore; now I looked like a molting reptile. My skin was peeling like a lizard's around my temples.

Needless to say, I chucked that little tube back in the vanity drawer and resolved to tough out the rest of the week without  topical help.

When I got back to my apartment my first priority was skin relief. I opened my vanity cabinet, and my GR8/SKN products were practically glowing with divine light. I might work for GR8/SKN, but my allegiance to the products is wholly personal—and this BPO disaster story only cemented that opinion.