Wu - Feed Your Face

A few things to note before we get started: This book is not intended to replace the advice of your own physician or healthcare professional, and you may wish to consult him or her before adjusting your diet or skin-care routine, especially if you have existing health conditions.

The information youll find in Feed Your Face regarding skin care, health, and nutrition is the result of observations I have made in my years of practice treating thousands of patients, as well as my review of relevant medical and scientific literature. The literature at times reflects conflicting conclusions and opinions. I have expressed my views on many of these issues; you, the reader, should understand that other experts may sometimes disagree.

No doctor can guarantee a particular result for anyone. However, I believe that you can greatly improve the appearance and health of your skin by making the right dietary and lifestyle choices. It is my hope that what you learn from reading this book will start you on the course to a lifetime of healthier, brighter skin and a younger complexion.

Dr. Jessica Wu

Introduction: Everything You Think You Know About
Skin Care Is Wrong (Trust Me, Im a Doctor)

Everything You Think You Know About Skin Care Is Wrong

(Trust Me, Im a Doctor)

Its Friday afternoon in Los Angeles, and I am driving down Sunset Boulevard like a bat out of hell. Palm trees whiz past the windows of my tiny two-seater, a car I bought not so much for its awesome horsepowerthough thats certainly coming in handy at the momentbut because I am not a particularly great driver. (I figured I would be less likely to rear-end someone in the cramped parking garage outside my office if I was driving something, well, compact. ) I nearly take out a pedestrian on the corner of La Cienega, which is ironic considering the fact that Im a doctor. The car bucks sharply as I jam my bare toes against the race-car-style pedal, pushing it closer to the floor. (Who can drive in stilettos?!)

In a mere 20 minutes I make it to the main entrance of Universal Studios, one of the largest working movie studios in the world, the place where some of my favorite Hollywood films have been made. But today Im no tourist. Somewhere inside this 415-acre complex, one of my A-list patientswell call her Megan (doctor-patient confidentiality precludes me from divulging her real name, of course)is smack-dab in the middle of a medical emergency.

I scour the parking lot for Kevin, the production assistant who is supposed to drive me to the set of Megans latest moviea raucous comedy starring several members of the Frat Packand then were off, speeding past sound stages and set pieces, the perfectly manicured suburban homes of Wisteria Lane (home to the Desperate Housewives ) whirring by on my left; Stage One, where Conan OBrien filmed his short-lived version of The Tonight Show, is somewhere off to the right. Kevin and I fly through the back lot at what feels like 100 miles per hour (but were in a golf cart, so were probably clocking in somewhere around 15). Finally, we screech to a halt in front of Megans trailer, and another assistant ushers me inside.

Megan, like most Hollywood starlets in their late 20s and early 30s, is mind-numbingly, mesmerizingly gorgeous. Shes pretty much a freak of nature. But when I climb into her trailer, I see that shes hunkered down in front of a small magnifying mirror, attacking her face with two Q-tips and a bottle of rubbing alcohol.

Dr. Wu! she practically screams when she realizes Ive arrived. Thank God youre here. Look at my face.

She points to an inflamed round spot in the middle of her chin. Medically speaking, it looks like an infection of Propionibacterium acnes. In other words, she has a pimple.

OK, so maybe this isnt a medical emergency, but think about it: Have you ever watched a movie where the lead actress had a huge zit? Of course not. Celebrities arent supposed to get pimples. They do, though (all the time). In fact, I get two to three pimple emergency calls a month from movie sets and television studios all over town. (Once I was even called to do Botox, though that wasnt an emergency, either. Theres just a lot of downtime when youre shooting a TV show.) By the time I arrive, the makeup artist will invariably have triedand failedto cover the pimple with foundation, and the director of photography will have been instructed to change the lighting in the hope of making the zit less noticeable on screen. (Can you imagine?) But when that doesnt work, they always turn to me.

The thing is, I totally understand the urgency, and I dont mind driving across town at breakneck speed just to attend to an unexpected breakout. As a dermatologist I understand that having a pimple (or a rash or a chronic skin condition such as psoriasis or eczema) can be humiliating, especially when it interferes with your job. I understand that the condition of the skin affects not only how others see us, but how we see ourselves. I understand, too, because as a teenager I had really, really terrible acne.

From the age of 13 on there wasnt a day that I woke up without finding something new on my facea new pimple, a new scab, a new reason to bury my head under the covers and go back to sleep. My mother assured me that Id grow out of it, that all teenagers get acne. But that didnt explain why my gorgeous younger sister had a perfect peaches-and-cream complexion (and the body of a ballet dancer to boot). She never had pimples, and I ached with jealousy. Why couldnt that be me?

One morning in particular I awoke with an usually large and especially gross cluster of zits, oozing and pus filled, in the middle of my right cheek. I figured Id just have to wear a hat or pull my hair over my face until the swelling went down, as always. And then suddenly it dawned on me: Mom puts hydrogen peroxide on all our scrapes and scratches. Hows this any different? I bet a little hydrogen peroxide will clear this right up! I dabbed gently at my face with a peroxide-soaked Q-tip but quickly realized that the process was going to take forever. So, eager and impatient, I emptied three full bottles into the biggest pot I could find, took a deep breath, and plunged myself in, face-first.

I can still remember the smellthe sickening sweetness of itand then, of course, the pain. It burned like crazy, and I had made my skinnow bubbling, blistered, oozing, and rawmuch, much worse.

For as long as I can remember Ive been obsessed with skin and skin care. I grew up in Southern California at a time when Christie Brinkleywith her surfer-girl good looks and sun-kissed complexionwas the gold standard of beauty, the woman every teenage girl wanted to look like. As a Taiwanese American (my parents moved to the States in the 1960s), looking anything like Christie Brinkley was just not going to happen for me. (I present as evidence the photo, yearbook picture. My pimples are covered by about a pound of makeup, and those wings look nothing like hers obviously. ) Still, I tried face creams, acne washes, Clearasil, Noxzemabasically anything I could get my hands on at the drugstore. If I couldnt look like a swimsuit model, maybe I could at least alleviate my scarring, cystic acne.