FROM THE BEGINNING...

Until very recently, I’ve only ever known problematic skin. It’s lurked, like a substandard smell. I’ve always felt ashamed of my face, hidden behind my hair, a sucker for overflowing the foundation, desperately trying to appear natural and forever failing.

Teenage years were rife with pimples aplenty and texture times ten. Styled with a sweet dab of the noughties (blue eye shadow, lip gloss, streaks of hair; you know the drill)… it was a real treat.

Now, after years of personal research, several unhelpful doctors, a few bouts of antibiotics (that did more harm that good), many pennies spent, a wonderful skin consultancy (Lionne, who I'm training with to become a Skin Mentor to help others) and a whole lot of (im)patience, it’s finally starting to improve… and the scars are just a small price to pay for the years of torment. It’s also taken me to the ripe, chic age of thirty to realise no one else actually cares.

So, here I am for the first time… make up free and not as terrified as I thought I’d be.