I've been holding out on y'all in Yelpland. But I feel like we know each other a little better now, so I'm going to come clean.
There's more to this review than what I previously stated. Let's set the scene, shall we?
True story - I used to be really hideous (as opposed to just sort of hideous), so much so that I would play this game on the subway where I would compete in a "Who has the worst skin in this subway?" competition. Riding the subway at least twice per day (and often 4 to 6 times) for the better part of half a year, I won, hands down, every freakin' time. I was invincible. I was the Michael Phelps of bad skin, but seriously, nobody even came close, none of this win-it-by-a-fingertip business.
Although I took pride in being extraordinary, I realized I was scaring off people (read: girls, my friends, small animals, children, employers etc.) with my Quasimodo mug, so I decided to take action. Enter Dr. Ferranti.
Although they played it cool behind their swanky desks in this swanky office in this swanky building, I could tell the reception staff was impressed/horrified by my visage. I had show-stoppin' quality. I was truly remarkable.
My aspirations were confirmed by Dr. Ferranti, who entered the room, saw my face, and simply exclaimed,
"HOLY SHIT!"
This is a man who sees screwed up skin ailments every day. To garner that sort of glorious reaction is no easy task, my friends. It is reserved for only the very special.
I was so proud. His studious eyes lit up with excitement behind his spectacles and he opened a drawer to pull out a Polaroid camera. He took a picture of my left cheek, then my right cheek, and did so with the fervor that would accompany photographing the Loch Ness monster. Oh Nessie, you're old news - you ain't got nothin' on this freakshow!
To others the behavior Dr. Ferranti displayed would've been offensive and inappropriate, but really, at this point, the enthusiasm the kind Doctor displayed was a nice reaction after what I had gotten used to. He didn't pull any punches, and I wasn't the sensitive type. I didn't need hand-holding or sympathetic "Oh you poor thing!" talk, I was here for a solution.
And really? I found it kind of funny. No bullshit. It was twisted, but it was funny.
He immediately recommended the strongest stuff he had: Accutane (or Amnesteem, the generic version that I used). He was very professional about outlining the side effects (birth defects, loss of appetite, potential depression etc.), and he let my 19 year old self take my time in making the decision without any pressure. He let me know about other options, but stuck by his guns while explaining the different stages of acne to me. Surprise! I had the BIGGEST BADDEST WOLF variety. After going through the literature he had provided me, on my follow up appointment we decided to go ahead with the treatment.
With my monthly check ups, the nurses were all extremely nice when drawing my blood and all that. They did a great job. When I came in for appointments, the test results were always ready, and I was informed each and every month that I was not pregnant, which was such a huge relief.
The receptionists were great as well. They were extremely friendly and encouraging. I almost felt like their pet project. Or maybe I was their favorite new reality show: Extreme Makeover: Face Edition.
(Oh wait, that's just Extreme Makeover. My bad.)
And now? My skin is alllllllright. It ain't perfect, as I don't get it all fancied up at the spas and smoooooooothed over. I do break out a little bit from time to time (I probably could've gone on a second cycle of Accutane if I pressed the issue; the appetite suppressant side effect ain't my thing though), but you know what? I'm not fussy and I don't need perfection; I just wanted to retire from playing that game on the subway. And I was able to.
If I really wanted further treatment, I'm sure Dr. Ferranti or Dr. Moraru would've made me a new man. But I can stand a few eensy weensy blemishes from time to time. They're like old friends who keep me grounded.
Anyways after this ordeal, I got recruited by (more like duped into "working" for) Abercrombie. They thought I was the affirmative action hotness. Ain't that an ugly duckling story for ya? Thanks a bunch Doc. read more