I WAS ONE PIMPLE AWAY
from cancelling my trip
By Inès, breakout overthinker, overpacker, and recovering skin spiral-er
You know when your skin picks the absolute worst timing to freak out? Mine waited until 48 hours before my girls’ trip to erupt into a red, inflamed panic on my left cheek, like a mini volcano with emotional damage. I stared at it. I covered it. I spiraled. Because when you’ve planned outfits, booked the Airbnb, and imagined yourself glowing in golden hour pics... one pimple can feel like sabotage. Yes, I nearly cancelled. But I didn’t. And I’m so glad.
What that breakout was actually telling me
The thing is, my skin had been warning me all week. A tightness here, a little flake there, a zit brewing under the surface. But I ignored it — because life was busy, the to-do list was long, and I was too focused on making everything perfect for the trip. Packing the right outfits. Ordering new minis. Trying a new serum the night before because, in a moment of chaos, I believed it could magically “fix” my skin overnight.
That pimple? It wasn’t about skincare.
It was about stress. About pushing too hard. About ignoring the quiet signs and then being shocked when my skin screamed.
I expected my skin to perform like a glowing backdrop for the main event, when in reality, it just wanted to be treated like… me. With rest. With care. With a bit of grace.
What I packed (And what I left behind)
That pimple did more than almost cancel my plans, it completely changed my approach.
Instead of bringing my usual 7-step routine, I stripped everything down. One jelly cleanser that wouldn’t strip my skin. One moisturizer that felt like a cold glass of water. No acids. No peels. No “emergency” spot treatments that would’ve probably made things worse.
It felt wrong at first, like I was underprepared. But it ended up being the best decision I could’ve made. My skin didn’t need a suitcase of solutions. It needed quiet. It needed consistency. And it needed me to stop trying to control it.
The craziest part?
Halfway through the trip, that volcano on my cheek had flattened. Faded. Forgotten.
Not because I fought it. Because I didn’t.
Sun, salt, and something shifts
There’s something undeniably healing about vacation. Not the luxury, the slowness. The freedom from mirrors. The way you put on SPF like a ritual instead of a chore. The way you sweat and don’t care. The way you smile in a photo and don’t zoom in to check your pores.
Being by the sea, dancing until 2AM, sharing skincare with friends in a bathroom lit by fairy lights, it reminded me that skin isn’t meant to be perfect. It’s meant to be lived in. Responding to life, not resisting it.
The best part? I started feeling like myself again, not because my skin “cleared,” but because I stopped obsessing over it.
Final Glowdown
So yes, I went on the trip. With a breakout. With overpacked bags. With a heart full of doubt and a mini cleanser I wasn’t totally sure about.
And I had the best time.
My skin? It calmed down. But more importantly, I calmed down.
I stopped punishing my face for reacting to life.
I stopped thinking I needed to be glowy to be seen.
Next time, when the skin spiral comes before a big moment, I hope I remember this.
That glow isn’t something you chase with products.
It’s what finds you when you show up anyway.