I Scrubbed My Skin Until I Felt Like Someone Else

I stand at the sink, mixing olive oil and sugar, pretending this is self-care. The grains scrape my skin, and I tell myself it’s working—maybe this time I’ll wake up and not flinch at my own reflection. Every week, I chase softness, glow, anything but the raw, uneven truth. I scrub and scrub, hoping the old layers will take my shame with them. But after the water runs cold, I’m still here, counting the spots I couldn’t erase. I want to believe I’m more than my skin, but some nights, all I see is what I’m trying to fix. #BareFaceAnxiety #SkinStory #MirrorFatigue #Beauty