By Caity McCardell

My wedding celebration was perfect. Well planned, beautifully executed, in line with our left-of-center ways. I wore a gorgeous olive green antique-style dress, high-heeled boots, and silver designs in my up-done hair.
My make-up was perfect, but as the evening wore on and I kissed and hugged our guests, my true skin condition revealed itself. When I looked at photos of the evening during that first review of the prints, I was dismayed. At that moment, staring at my blemished face in the photos, I knew I had to do something serious about my skin. I was thirty-two years old and had lived with adult acne for over ten years. I was done.

My skin was relatively clear throughout high school, but in my early twenties, acne came to stay and I fought it throughout college and my first careers. I tried almost anything to heal my skin—lotions, potions, facials, chemicals, herbs, love energy, hate energy, soothing balms, oxygen. Skin care specialists always had the answer to my acne—a brand that was sure to work—and that cost me a pretty penny over the years. And guess what? They didn’t work.

Any acne—whether on a teen or adult—is humiliating. I often didn’t want to leave the house. Once I made an appointment for an acne facial at a new salon, and when the esthetician shown her light on my skin, she exclaimed, “oh, man, I don’t think I have time for all this.” Another time I was on the set of a production company preparing for an interview and the make-up artist simply didn’t know what to do with my skin. It was so dry from all the chemicals I was using at the time, so my face looked like a craggy rock by the time she was done.

Often I thought I was ugly. Most of the time I figured I was less than other people because of my skin. The acne tore into my self-confidence and left me feeling hopeless that I’d ever have beautiful skin again. All I had to look forward to was acne and wrinkles, after all.

When I looked at my wedding photos, I remembered something from my family history, something so far back in my memory I’m surprised I even accessed it. It was a memory of my grandmother saying that she had problem skin that would clear up when she didn’t drink milk.

All my life I’d been like most Americans—I drank milk, relied on yogurt and creams. And cheese. How could anyone live without cheese? The idea to quit eating dairy products was radical and sounded extremely difficult, but I was desperate. And very motivated.

Let me tell you something: within two weeks of quitting dairy, my acne was gone. I didn’t cheat – dairy of all forms was out, and the reward was what I had dreamed of for a decade. My skin no longer had red marks and white heads. They were gone!

Every time I’m tested for calcium levels, doctors are surprised. That’s because they’re taught to assume dairy is needed for proper nutrient levels, which is simply not true. I eat a variety of food, and I’m in perfectly good nutritional health.
I read an interview with Woody Harrelson in Maxim Magazine that revealed he quit dairy after a woman on a bus told him it would help his acne. He was 24 at the time, and the actor had 24 more years of acne-free film-making ahead of him. Sometimes I want to tell people with acne – like that woman on the bus told Harrelson – that quitting dairy might help them, but I don’t. I’m afraid of offending them or some other impact the information might have. And while I’m clearly not offering medical advice, I do know what worked for me and my family. I spent thousands of dollars on fancy products that didn’t work. Quitting dairy ten years ago costs me nothing, and it was easy. There’s nothing like healthy skin to inspire this gal.