Tag: BareFaceAnxiety - Page 4

#BareFaceAnxiety

LunarLlama

I Thought Smelling Like Vanilla Would Make Me Softer

I started wearing vanilla because I wanted to be the kind of person people felt safe around. Warm, sweet, familiar. Like I could cover up the parts of me that felt sharp or tired or just too much. Every morning, I layer it on—body wash, lotion, a spritz behind each ear. I keep a travel-size bottle in my bag, reapplying in bathroom stalls before meetings, before dates, before seeing friends who never seem to need as much fixing. Sometimes I catch a whiff of myself and wonder if anyone can smell the desperation under the sugar. If they know I’m just trying to be easier to love. I don’t even know what I smell like without it anymore. #BeautyBurnout #BareFaceAnxiety #SkinStory #Beauty

EclecticEcho

I Still Hide My Scars, Even From Myself

Every morning, I run my fingers over the same patch of skin, half-expecting the scars to have faded overnight. They never do. I keep a drawer full of creams and gels—half-used, all promising something I can’t quite believe in anymore. I avoid mirrors when I undress. I tell myself it’s just skin, but I still pull my sleeves down when I’m around people, even in summer. Sometimes I forget they’re there, until I catch a glimpse and the shame rushes back, hot and stupid. I know I’m supposed to be patient, to trust the process, but mostly I just want to stop feeling like I have to cover up to be okay. #SkinStory #BareFaceAnxiety #MirrorFatigue #Beauty #Skincare

IvoryIbis

My Face Hurts and I Still Don’t Feel Clean

It’s 1 a.m. and my cheeks are burning. I stare at the bathroom mirror, red patches blooming across my skin, and wonder if I’m just allergic to being seen. I bought the face wash because someone online said it made them glow. Now I’m slathering on petroleum jelly, desperate for relief, but all I feel is sticky and exposed. I keep rinsing, hoping the sting will fade, but it lingers—like the feeling that I’m always doing something wrong. Every product is a gamble. Every morning, I wake up hoping my skin will look normal, and every night, I go to bed with regrets and a new layer of moisturizer. I wish I could stop caring, but I don’t know how to exist in my own skin without fighting it. #BareFaceAnxiety #SkinStory #BeautyBurnout #Beauty

FenrirFlare

I Forgot What My Real Face Looks Like

Some nights, I wipe off my makeup and barely recognize the person staring back. My skin feels raw, almost embarrassed, like it’s not used to air. I know every trick—how to draw shadows where I want bones, how to erase a blemish with three layers of concealer and a prayer. I’ve learned to pose in the mirror, angling my body so I don’t have to see the parts I’m still trying to fix. Sometimes I wonder if I’d even leave the house without the armor of lashes and foundation. I tell myself it’s confidence, but it feels more like hiding. The hardest part isn’t the routine—it’s realizing I don’t know how to feel beautiful unless I’m pretending to be someone else. #BareFaceAnxiety #MirrorFatigue #BeautyBurnout #Beauty

SpunkySprite17

My Piercing Got Infected and So Did My Confidence

I thought a new piercing would make me feel a little braver, a little more myself. Instead, I spent two weeks staring at the angry red swelling in the mirror, pretending it didn’t hurt. I kept cleaning it, following every step, but it just looked worse. I started hiding my ear with my hair, avoiding selfies, and pretending I didn’t care when people asked if it was supposed to look like that. Every night, I’d dab on ointment and wonder if I’d made a mistake—if I was just making myself uglier, not cooler. I didn’t take it out, even when it throbbed, because I was scared of closing up the hole and losing the version of myself I wanted to be. It’s just a piercing, but it’s also not. It’s another reminder that sometimes, trying to look different just makes me feel more exposed. #SkinStory #BeautyBurnout #BareFaceAnxiety #Beauty

TulipTornado

I Built My Life Around Lists, Not My Face

Every year, I made a new planner from scratch. I’d spend hours picking out the right notebook, drawing perfect grids, color-coding every subject, and taping in motivational quotes I didn’t believe. It wasn’t about organization. It was about control. I thought if I could just track every assignment, every exam, every tiny thing, maybe I’d finally feel put together—maybe I’d finally look it, too. But the truth is, my planner was just another mask. I’d decorate the cover with stickers and doodles, hoping it would distract from the breakouts I tried to hide under foundation. I wrote my name inside, but it never felt like me. I was always chasing the next version of myself, the one who never forgets, never slips, never shows up unprepared or undone. I still lose things. I still lose myself. #BareFaceAnxiety #MirrorFatigue #BeautyBurnout #Beauty

MarvelousMallard

I Only Feel Put Together When My Nails Are Perfect

Every time I chip a nail, I feel like something in me cracks too. I sit at my desk, scraping off old polish, trying to erase the week—like maybe if my nails look clean, I will too. I spend an hour painting careful white lines, holding my breath, hating how shaky my hands get. I tell myself it’s just a little self-care, but really, I’m terrified of anyone seeing my bare, uneven nails. I don’t remember when I started caring this much, but now I can’t stop. Sometimes I wonder if I’d still feel like myself if I let them go. Or if I’d just feel exposed, unfinished, and a little bit lost. #BareFaceAnxiety #BeautyBurnout #MirrorFatigue #Beauty #Skincare

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

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