Pimples, acne, or what ever you want to call it gave me a lot of trouble during my teenage years.
I tried quite a variety of things to try to get rid of them, some remedies more scary than others, but none of them seemed to make a difference.
My parents tried to tell me my smile and friendliness would mask those pimples, and people would remember how I made them feel much more than any pimple I may have had.
I tried to take their encouragement to heart, but glancing in the mirror before heading out the door and seeing another batch of pimples sprouting up to take the place of those that were fading never felt any better.
Then one summer day my little three year old brother Raymond came running into the house all excited. "There's a pretty butterfly in the garden! It looks just like Mary Ann! It's all pimply, just like her!"
His innocent excitement about a lovely butterfly that looked like me warmed my heart. I still heartily disliked my pimples, but seeing how happy he was to see the butterfly, and that he thought it was pretty helped. Every time I looked into the mirror after that until my acne finally cleared up I would always replay his happy words in my mind.