I’ve stripped myself “naked” on this blog by sharing my deepest struggles with food and body image, heck I even posted pictures of myself in undies of when I was anorexic/in the depth of my bulimia. Yet, hitting publish on this post today was a whole new level of anxiety-causing.
Ever since I was about 15 years old, I’ve had problems with my skin. But what started with the typical teenage-pimpled face got worse and worse over time instead of getting better. Now, before I go on, I want to make clear that I never had a severe case of acne and I don’t want to offend anyone who’s looking at the above picture thinking “If only she would know what real acne looks like!”. It actually used to be waaaay worse, but turns out I was pretty good in a) deleting any pictures that showed my bad skin or b) photoshopping the heck out of them. Obviously, there definitely are kids on the block who had it way worse than me. Still, it affected me very much.
I felt uncomfortable, naked, embarrassed, humiliated and not taken seriously. As thought my own face was a distraction to others. I felt like I was walking through life with a big fat sign on my forehead reading “I don’t have my shit together.”