It’s sad but funny. Like when a clown dies.

     Wee hellos from the inside.

Okay so if you go and check out my Instagram account, you’ll see a ton of selfies from today. They are different angles, different lipstick colours, I pout in some, pull a silly face in others and other differences.

But they have one HUGE thing in common:

They are all of my face. More specifically, the lower half of my face, never full front face, never a ‘real’ smile.

I am very self conscious, about my body and my face. And I’m even self conscious about my forehead, and the huge-ness of it.

I get so many compliments on my skin. My facial skin is very pale and very clear. I have a couple chickenpox scars, I was unfortunate enough to not have that horrible thing until I was 20, but apart from that my skin is very clear. I rarely get facial blemishes. I currently have a pimple on the bridge of my nose, which is way weird, but I’ve never been a ‘pizza face’, even as a teen my acne issues were few and far between.

I don’t bother with foundation makeup or concealer anymore. The main reason being the place I live is subtropical, and you can get as many setting powders, sprays and the most ‘budge-proof’ makeup you can find, but nothing is built for the humidity of my city. It always melts off. And it takes patience and I don’t find it fun to apply (unlike eyeshadow). And I also don’t know the first thing about contouring, and more importantly, I don’t want to know!

Whenever someone compliments my skin, it’s always my face. I get told how ‘porcelain’ it is. And I laugh and (to avoid taking the compliment, like all good people with low/non existent self esteem) say ‘oh it’s just a good mix of English genes, drinking a ton of water everyday and coconut oil!’ (Which, coconut oil IS a super awesome beauty tool. Great for your skin and hair) and go on my merry way.

I hate those compliments. Why? Because I have destroyed my skin. My face is the only place on my body that I never self harmed. But everywhere else was open season.

I know I have beautiful art work on my skin too, those I’m proud to show. And whenever I find a new freckle on my skin I get excited.

But I hate the compliments because they are only seeing me at face value (pun intended). They see what I want them to see. Even if my scars are visible on my arms or legs, I still manage to make them less visible.

I do not like: my smile, my teeth, my eye colour, my forehead, my hair, my face shape, my jaw shape, my nose and my lips. My hips, my stomach, my thighs, my calves, my ankles, my butt, my feet, my toes, my arms, my back, my wrists, my hands, my fingers, my ears, my chest and my neck.

My boobs are ok.

I used to be bullied by others at school because of my nose and big lips. I was called ‘frog face’. I know women (and men) PAY to have lips like mine, and there were a bunch of idiots who sucked on shot glasses for the same effect (just, don’t), but big lips are not as much fun as you’d think.

I know there are parts of my appearance that others pay to have. I know! Stop telling me! It doesn’t help me feel any less self conscious! It doesn’t make me feel any better about myself!

In the selfies on IG, the only thing in the photos are my face, lipstick and an above super bright light. I didn’t filter anything and there was no photo editing. I just know what angle I look ‘ok’ at.

You’re probably thinking ‘if she hates her appearance so much, what’s up with the selfies??’. Right? Well THIS is ‘what’s up with the selfies’:

I am taking and releasing photos of myself that I think are ‘ok’ in an attempt to be able to look back in the future, and be able to appreciate myself and as a way to show to myself ‘hey I’m not that ugly after all’

I am learning, slowly, that I am not what my abuser told me I am.

I am not: ugly, useless, waste of space.


I can take as many selfies as my phone storage can hold.


I will always still have that bit in my head that will always say, after I’ve said ‘hey I look good today’:

‘Are you sure?’



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