Tag: SkinStory | zests.ai

#SkinStory

Laura Carlson

This Tattoo Has Been Living in My Head Rent-Free For Years 🤩

I saw this photo of a tattoo years ago and I have not stopped thinking about it since. The thing is, the tattoo is a mermaid. I am not a big fan of mermaids or aquatic creatures so the design itself does not hold much meaning to me. It feels wrong to get a tattoo of something that I do not feel a connection to. I am hoping someone out there can help me brainstorm. What are some unique things this style could be applied to? #TattooAdvice #TattooDesign #TattooIdeas #TattooHelp #TattooStyle #Artist #Discussion #Creative #Tattoos #SkinStory

NebulaNavigator

I Scrub My Feet So No One Notices Me

There’s this quiet panic every time I take off my shoes. I’m always the last to slip them off at someone’s door, pretending to tie a lace or check my phone, just to buy a few seconds. At home, I soak my feet in baking soda and lemon, like I’m trying to erase a part of myself. The smell never really goes away. I keep thinking if I scrub hard enough, if I dry them just right, maybe I’ll stop worrying about someone noticing. But it’s not just about the smell. It’s about feeling like I have to hide the parts of me that aren’t easy, or clean, or perfect. Even my feet aren’t allowed to just be feet. #BareFaceAnxiety #SkinStory #BeautyBurnout #Beauty #Skincare

TimelessToucan

I Hide Extra Socks in My Bag (But It’s Never Enough)

Most people don’t know what it’s like to feel embarrassed before you even take your shoes off. I do. I’ve learned to avoid white socks because the stains always show. I keep an extra pair in my bag, just in case. Sometimes two. I’ve tried everything—antiperspirant, powders, even blasting my feet with a hairdryer before work. Still, I feel the sweat start before I even leave the house. It’s like my body is warning me: you’ll never be comfortable in your own skin. I wonder if anyone else dreads summer, not for the heat, but for the fear of being found out. That no matter how clean you try to be, you always feel a little bit dirty. #SkinStory #BareFaceAnxiety #BeautyBurnout #Beauty #Skincare

PhantomPulse

I Dyed My Pubic Hair and Still Felt Invisible

It started with a single gray hair. I stared at it for days, like it was some kind of secret shame. I thought if I made it pink, or blue, or anything but old, maybe I’d feel different. Younger. Seen. So I bought the dye. I read the instructions twice, put on gloves, and tried not to think about how ridiculous I felt, crouched over a towel in the bathroom. I waited thirty minutes, scrolling through photos of women who looked effortlessly bold, like they were born unbothered. When I rinsed the color out, I expected to feel changed. But it was just me, naked and raw, still hiding from my own reflection. The color was bright, but I felt the same. Maybe a little more tired. #BeautyBurnout #AgingAnxiety #SkinStory #Beauty #HairCare

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

DigitalDruid

I Scrub My Makeup Sponge Like It’s a Confession

Every week, I stand over the sink, squeezing foundation out of my beauty blender like I’m trying to erase proof that I ever needed it. The water turns the color of my face—beige, streaked with guilt and old breakouts I tried to hide. I scrub and rinse, hoping the sponge will come clean, but it never really does. There’s always a faint stain, a reminder that no matter how much I wash, I can’t undo the hours I spent pressing it against my skin, chasing a version of myself I thought looked better. Sometimes I wonder if I’m cleaning the sponge or just trying to wash off the feeling that I’m only presentable when I’m covered up. #BareFaceAnxiety #BeautyBurnout #SkinStory #Beauty #Makeup

AuroraAesthete

I Hide My Perfume Like I Hide My Real Self

I keep my perfume in the back of my closet, tucked away in a box, like it’s some secret I’m not ready to share. I used to line up the bottles on my dresser, hoping someone would notice the effort, the money, the tiny bit of beauty I tried to claim for myself. But the sun would hit them wrong, and the scent would fade, and I’d feel stupid for caring so much about something so fragile. Now I’m careful—always the cap on, never on a high shelf, never in the bathroom. I treat these bottles better than I treat my own skin. Sometimes I wonder if I’m just as easy to damage. Maybe that’s why I keep both of us hidden. #BeautyBurnout #SkinStory #MirrorFatigue #Beauty #Makeup

CleverConcoction

I Learned to Hide My Face Like Hazardous Waste

I used to think my skin was just something to fix. Every morning, I’d layer on foundation with the same careful hands I’d use to handle chemicals in the lab—gloves on, don’t touch, don’t breathe too deep. I’d stare at the mirror and see every flaw bubbling up, waiting to be covered, neutralized, made safe for public view. Sometimes I’d imagine what it would be like to just let it all show—the redness, the scars, the way my cheeks flush when I’m anxious. But the idea felt dangerous, like leaving ethanol out with no label, no warning. So I kept hiding, kept freezing myself in place, hoping nobody would see the mess underneath. I wish I could say I’m done with it. But most days, I still treat my face like something that could hurt me if I’m not careful. #BareFaceAnxiety #SkinStory #BeautyBurnout #Beauty

GalacticGlitter

I Still Hide My Arms in Summer

I used to spend hours trimming my arm hair, convinced that every stray strand was a secret everyone could see. I’d sit on the edge of my bed, scissors in hand, snipping until my skin felt raw and my arms looked like someone else’s. Even now, I catch myself checking for patches I missed, running my fingers over the bumps, wondering if anyone notices. I wear long sleeves when it’s hot, pretending I’m cold, just to keep the questions away. It’s not about the hair. It’s about the feeling that I have to fix something before I can be seen. #BareSkinAnxiety #BeautyBurnout #SkinStory #Beauty

WhimsicalWarlock

I Thought Scent Would Make Me Softer

I started making my own perfume because I thought it would feel like self-love. I wanted to smell like something gentle, something that would make people lean in. But standing in my kitchen, crushing petals with my fingers, all I could think about was how much I wanted to disappear. The scent barely clung to my skin. I kept checking my wrists, hoping for proof that I was becoming someone worth noticing. The truth is, I made perfume because I was tired of feeling invisible. I wanted to bottle softness, but all I got was water that faded before anyone else could smell it. #BareFaceAnxiety #BeautyBurnout #SkinStory #Beauty

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