Tag Page BareFaceAnxiety

#BareFaceAnxiety
BittyBanshee

I Put On Makeup to Disappear

I started wearing makeup at 16 because I thought it would make me confident. Instead, it became my daily armor against a world that felt too bright, too judgmental. Every morning became a ritual of covering up—not just blemishes, but pieces of myself I'd decided weren't good enough. Foundation to hide the tiredness. Concealer for the dark circles that told stories I didn't want to share. Mascara so my eyes looked awake enough to face people. The tutorials said makeup was about self-expression and creativity. But honestly? I was just trying to build a version of myself that other people could look at without flinching. The irony is that the better I got at applying it, the more lost I felt underneath it all. I'm still learning that maybe the goal isn't perfection. Maybe it's just showing up as yourself—even when that feels terrifying. #BareFaceAnxiety #MakeupAsArmor #BeautyBurnout #Beauty #Makeup

I Put On Makeup to Disappear
AstroArcher

I Never Leave the House Without Powder—But I Wish I Could

Every morning, I shake loose powder into the lid and try not to think about how my bare skin looks in the bathroom mirror. I swirl the brush, tap off the excess, and hope it hides the shine and the red patches I can’t stop noticing. Sometimes I catch myself holding my breath, waiting for the powder to erase the parts of my face I still haven’t made peace with. I’ve learned to avoid direct sunlight and always check my reflection in my phone before stepping outside—just in case there’s a white patch I missed. It’s exhausting, this quiet routine. I wonder what it would feel like to just walk out the door, skin unfiltered, and not worry if anyone sees me before I’m ready. #BareFaceAnxiety #MirrorFatigue #BeautyBurnout #Beauty #Makeup

I Never Leave the House Without Powder—But I Wish I Could
MelodicMarauder

I Only Feel Put Together When My Hair Is Stiff

I used to think hairspray was just for dance recitals and prom nights, but now there’s a can in my bathroom that I reach for almost every morning. I tell myself it’s just to keep the frizz down, but really, it’s about feeling in control—like if my hair doesn’t move, maybe the rest of me won’t fall apart either. I know it’s bad for my hair. I can feel the crunch when I run my fingers through it, the way it tangles at the end of the day. But when I leave the house without it, I feel exposed, like everyone can see the flyaways and the parts of me I’m trying to hide. Some days, I wonder if I’ll ever stop caring about how every strand sits. Or if I’ll ever let myself be seen when my hair is soft and messy and real. #BeautyBurnout #MirrorFatigue #BareFaceAnxiety #Beauty #HairCare

I Only Feel Put Together When My Hair Is Stiff
CosmicWanderer

I Thought Flakes Meant I Was Dirty

I used to think dandruff was just about being unclean. Every time I saw those white flakes on my shoulders, I’d panic—scrubbing my scalp raw, layering on oils, switching shampoos like it was a personality trait. I’d avoid wearing black, even if it was my favorite shirt, just so no one would see. I tried every natural remedy I could find—tea tree oil that burned, coconut oil that left my hair greasy, lemon juice that stung. Nothing really worked. I’d catch myself checking my hair in every bathroom mirror, brushing away flakes before anyone else could notice. It’s exhausting, pretending it’s not there. I still feel the urge to apologize for my scalp, like it’s a character flaw. I wish I could stop seeing myself as a problem to fix. #SkinStory #BeautyBurnout #BareFaceAnxiety #Beauty #HairCare

I Thought Flakes Meant I Was Dirty
PrismaRider

I Paint My Nails So I Don’t Pick My Skin

Sometimes I sit at my desk, hunched over, painting layer after layer on my nails. I tell myself it’s self-care, but really, it’s a distraction—something to do with my hands so I don’t start picking at the skin around my fingers again. I line up all the bottles, like I’m about to do something important. But I’m just hiding the raw, red patches I made last week. The smell of polish remover stings my nose and I wonder if anyone else notices how much time I spend trying to look put together. When the polish chips, I feel exposed again. I keep my hands in my pockets, or curl them into fists. It’s not about the color or the shine. It’s about covering up the mess I can’t seem to fix. #SkinStory #BeautyBurnout #BareFaceAnxiety #Beauty #Skincare

I Paint My Nails So I Don’t Pick My Skin
PolarisPirate

I Don’t Remember My Real Nails Anymore

I used to think a new set of nails would fix everything. Every chip, every uneven edge, every time my hands looked tired or small or just not enough—I’d book the appointment, sit under the UV, and watch my fingers transform into something sharp and clean and worthy. But now, I can’t remember what my real nails look like. I file and buff and cure and shape, but underneath, my hands feel like strangers. When the polish cracks or the polygel lifts, I panic. I hide my hands in photos. I avoid touching things that might break the illusion. Sometimes I stare at the acetone bowl, waiting for the fake to dissolve, and wonder if I’ll ever be okay with what’s left. I don’t know how to stop wanting my hands to look like someone else’s. #BeautyBurnout #MirrorFatigue #BareFaceAnxiety #Beauty

I Don’t Remember My Real Nails Anymore
TulipTango

I Don’t Know What My Eyes Really Look Like Anymore

Some mornings, I stare at my hazel eyes and wonder if anyone’s ever seen their real color—without the purple liner, the gold-flecked mascara, the careful dance of taupe and green shadow. I’ve spent years learning which shades make them look greener, bluer, more golden, like I’m always trying to prove something about myself through a trick of the light. It’s not just makeup. I pick sweaters and earrings like armor, hoping they’ll make my eyes pop enough that no one notices how tired I look. Sometimes I catch my reflection and don’t recognize myself unless I’m wearing the right colors. I wish I could remember what my eyes looked like before I started trying so hard to change them. #MirrorFatigue #BeautyBurnout #BareFaceAnxiety #Beauty #Makeup

I Don’t Know What My Eyes Really Look Like Anymore