You think it’s just a scar. A bump. A skin thing that shows up after a piercing, acne, surgery, or maybe nothing at all. But when a keloid forms, your body is launching a microscopic war—and it’s not the kind that ends cleanly.
What’s wild is that most of us (including me, once upon a time) never get told what’s really going on underneath. We just hear:
“It’s a keloid. Some people get them.”
Or worse:
“It’s cosmetic. You can get it removed.”
But why do some wounds heal flat, while others become raised, rubbery reminders that your body overdid it?
To answer that, we need to zoom in. Like, microscope-in.
Let’s unpack what actually happens at the cellular level—and why your keloid isn’t just a scar, but a full-blown cellular drama that refuses to shut up.
💥 It Starts With the Injury… and a Good Intention
Your skin gets damaged—maybe from a cut, burn, acne pimple, or even something as minor as an ear piercing.
Immediately, your body does what it’s designed to do: fix it.
This is called the wound healing cascade, and it happens in three main stages:
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Inflammation (hours to days): Your immune system sends white blood cells to clean up dead tissue and bacteria.
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Proliferation (days to weeks): Fibroblasts (a type of cell) swoop in to build new skin. They produce collagen, which acts like scaffolding.
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Remodeling (weeks to months): The excess collagen is supposed to be trimmed back, leaving a smooth, flat scar—or sometimes no visible mark at all.
But in keloid-prone skin? That third step breaks down. Completely.
🧬 The Cellular Overreaction: Fibroblasts Gone Wild
This is where things get interesting (and honestly, kind of tragic):
In people prone to keloids, the fibroblasts don’t know when to stop.
They keep pumping out collagen like they’re trying to rebuild the Colosseum.
Specifically:
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Type III collagen, which is usually temporary, keeps showing up.
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Instead of switching to stronger, more organized Type I collagen, the body stays stuck in the “emergency mode.”
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This collagen piles on top of itself, disorganized and rubbery—creating that raised, shiny, rope-like appearance.
And just like that, what was supposed to be healing becomes chronic remodeling gone wrong.
😳 Wait, It Gets Deeper—Literally
Here’s the kicker:
Keloids don’t just grow on the surface.
They often invade surrounding tissue. That’s part of why they keep spreading outward even after the wound’s closed. It’s not just extra scar—it’s invasive growth.
Some scientists have even compared their behavior to tumors—not because they’re cancerous, but because of how persistent and unregulated the growth is.
That’s why steroid creams and silicone gels often feel useless. You’re trying to quiet a screaming factory with a sticky note.
🧠 Your Nervous System and Hormones Are Involved Too
Stress? Hormonal shifts? Yep, they affect your skin’s ability to shut off inflammation.
Emerging research shows that:
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Cortisol spikes (stress hormone) can alter wound healing responses.
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Keloid-prone people often have hypersensitive growth factor receptors, which makes their skin cells respond dramatically even to mild damage.
In short:
Your body thinks it’s being helpful. It’s trying to save you. But instead, it’s overcorrecting—kind of like a friend who rearranges your whole apartment when you just asked for help moving a chair.
🙋🏽♀️ So… Can You Prevent It?
Here’s the honest truth:
You can’t always stop a keloid if your body is wired that way.
But you can:
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Avoid unnecessary trauma (think: piercings, tattoos, or elective surgeries in keloid-prone areas like chest, shoulders, or jawline)
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Use pressure therapy or silicone sheets early in the healing process
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Track flare-ups to identify stress or diet-based triggers
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Be cautious with skin treatments like microneedling or chemical peels—they’re not for everyone
❤️ Final Thoughts: Your Skin Is Not Misbehaving—It’s Overprotecting
If you’re living with a keloid, know this:
Your skin isn’t broken. It’s just over-defensive.
It’s like a parent who never learned to calm down after the emergency.
It keeps building walls—even when the danger is gone.
And maybe… just maybe… the first step to healing isn’t another treatment or another product.
It’s understanding. Zooming in. Listening to the chaos beneath the surface—and seeing the scar for what it is:
Not a flaw, but a story. Written in collagen. Told in overreaction. And still… yours.
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