How My Vitiligo Started

Baby Fingers clutching an adult hand. Vitiligo starting.

Early signs of vitiligo

I don’t remember the exact age, or exactly how, my vitiligo started – I think I was just a toddler. The first white patch was a small one (around the size of a penny) on one inside ankle bone. I also had another of similar size on my spine at about waist height. By around age 7 – 10, I had matching white patches on both ankle bones and another on my right eyelid. This was accompanied by three or four white eye lashes. Further early signs of vitiligo developed at the outer corners of both eyes, corners of my mouth and on the backs of my hands. At this stage I started to pluck the white eye lashes – which was obviously not a good idea as it made my eyelid quite sore.

My first Fake Tan – Cold Tea!

I also began trying to camouflage my hands by applying strong cold tea to turn the skin brown! I started wearing make-up at an early age to conceal the patches on my face (and maybe that influenced my subsequent choice of profession – I became a skin care and make up consultant!)

Vitiligo was my “guilty secret”

Throughout the remainder of my childhood and early adulthood I can remember perceiving the progressive and unpredictable spread of these white patches almost as if they were a guilty secret. They felt like a curse or plague of some sort which I had somehow brought upon myself.

As each new patch emerged (sometimes, though not always, heralded by an itchy rash and initial darkening of the skin) my mood would alternate between panic and depressed resignation. Outwardly, I was always cheerful. And my principal coping strategy was to camouflage the condition and get on with my life. Above all, I made sure I kept my vitiligo a complete secret from everyone except immediate family.

For me, those were the psychological effects of vitiligo. The practical difficulties of having this condition, on the other hand, have been less problematic for me than for many. This is thanks to the fact that I am relatively fair skinned. However, I used to tan quite well, achieving a light, golden colour. So I “mourned” the loss of this healthy, summer glow as it became more trouble than it was worth to sunbathe.

What my doctor said

I only remember one childhood visit to the GP in connection with my white patches. The doctor duly diagnosed vitiligo (or leukoderma) and had very little to say about it. All he told us was that there was no treatment and not to worry about it. (This would probably have been in the late 1960s / very early 1970s).  The only encouragement he offered was to reassure my mother that it would not result in my eyes turning pink. (I think my mother imagined that I might become albino!)

To read more about how vitiligo affected my later life go to How Vitiligo Impacted My Life.