Fuzzable Blogs: Makeup or Fakeup

Hi Blog.  Something that has struck me alot recently is how little selfconfidence I have. Im in my 20’s and sure, I can strike up conversation with anyone or anything, I’m loud and I love to laugh. But under that surface, I actually struggle alot with who I am.

It started with bullying in primary school. I had brain surgery at 11 months old, and I needed regular check ups and tests. During year 1 at school (when I was 6) I had to have wires glued to my head to check how much brain stuff happens on a day to day. The other kids at school thought I was a freak, and even in secondary school I was known as robot head.

After escaping school, I had a relationship with a guy who was in a band. He was the less attractive drummer, and they weren’t known that well but I didn’t care. I thought he was the greatest person alive, I couldn’t believe that a guy like him would want to be with an average girl like me. He’d call me up some Monday mornings, apologising down the phone, he’d ‘accidentally’ cheated over the weekend. The excuses were from he was at a party and a girl looked like me to he’d gotten too drunk and didn’t know what he was doing. Every time, I’d cry and wonder why wasn’t I good enough, why wasn’t I pretty enough. Why wasn’t I enough. After 4 months one argument ended everything, and from that moment I vowed I would become good enough.

Thats where my makeup addiction started. Every morning I saw robot head or that girl who was never enough to have a guy to herself. I’d layer up foundation, I skipped meals, I died my natural bright blonde hair dark. Slowly but surely I became obsessed with becoming someone else. YouTubers at first became my routine. Learning to contour was like the most revolutionary breakthrough ever for me.

My mum noticed these changes in me, saw how I was living on a jacket potato with beans and cheese a day, how I was working 12 hours a day 6 days a week to spend my wages on makeup and hair dye. I must of been spending £700 a month on my appearence easily. Mother dearest rang the doctors for me one morning, and booked me an appointment. She marched me down to the surgery and one thing lead to another. I broke down crying to my mum and doctor. Saying how all these things had scarred me. How much self hate I had. How I cannot be my bubbly and loud self without 2 hours worth of makeup and hair every day. My doctor diagnosed me with depression and severe anxiety. I was prescribed with medication, and sent to therapy.

Now 3 years later, I am still suffering. I am lucky enough now to be able to identify I have an issue, and I am able to be ‘Niki’ without a full face in my own home. I can’t walk over to my nieces school to pick her up without a full face. I wear slightly less makeup, it only takes an hour and a half to get completly ready. I’m still on medication, I can’t think of a life pill free yet. But heres hoping.

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