Last Saturday, after a warm massage and a soothing facial, I slept like a baby suckling long on her mother’s breast – eyes closed, half smile, palm placed softly on my cheek.
When I woke up in the morning, I felt an itch an inch below my cheekbone. For some reason, I ignored it all day long.
Fast forward to Tuesday, my date night.
I noticed the rash I ignored and left to chance had become something else that made me want to cancel on my date.
But no, I couldn’t.
I wanted to see that man again. His smile and that attendant dimple I always loved to lodge my fingers in! Oh! ??
I couldn’t go out the way I was though, my confidence drenched in the rain of rash on my face, so boom – a serious face beat to the rescue!
When he saw me that night, I swore I saw a pixel of disappointment in his eyes. “You know you’re beautiful, Fana. You don’t need this heavy mask on…”, he said, as dinner wound down.
He wanted to see my real face. Even then, I wanted to see it too. I mean, makeovers and their magic have this zing it gives to the girl in you, but then, nothing just beats the gentle thrill of one’s natural, clean face.
Looking back, I hinged my trouble on ignorance. Unbeknownst to me, not every facial, skin treatment or product is good for every skin type. I learnt there are certain treatments tailored to different skin types, especially the sensitive skin. I didn’t know this, and had ignorantly subjected my face to recurrent rounds of itchy torment that led to more blackheads and skin irritations.
Worse though was that I didn’t believe in myself. I didn’t believe in my beautiful. I didn’t believe in my natural. And this was the singular fact that actually blinded me in my pursuit of “fresh by force”, making it easy to pick up just any solution for my skincare.
All shades of wrong.
I learnt, that, in all my chase for a skin I can bask in, I had to first, believe in my beautiful. You dig?
Fana wrote from Legon, Ghana.
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