I somehow managed to skate by in High School with nary a pimple. Don’t worry though, acne caught up with me in my early twenties and by 22 I was in constant combat with deep cystic acne on my chin and around my mouth (the hormone area). I poked and squeezed and touched and did all the things you aren’t supposed to do, resulting in more acne and scarring. It was a vicious cycle.
About a month after I had my baby, I FaceTimed my best friend, Bee, from my new office. By “new office,” I mean the rocking chair in my bedroom where I spent 80% of my time breastfeeding. My shirt was always half-open, my chest and stomach clammy with old milk. My upper back was sore from the weight of my daughter, her endless need to be held.
- Winter Wonderland
- Holiday Gifting
- DORÉ x THE OUTNET
- This or That
- Happy Holidays!
Sometime in 1997, before my freshman year of high school, I stole a pair of tweezers from my Mother’s makeup drawer, sat in front of a mirror with a photo of Kate Moss, and went to town on my brows. By the time I finished, I’d taken them well in from the bridge of my nose, and sculpted – well it can only be described as a sperm like shape – high above my natural brow bone. My Mother noticed immediately, but like the belly button ring and ‘tramp stamp’ that would follow, she simply shrugged and said, “you’ll regret that one day.” Oh how right she was.