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My poor skin has been dragged through so much.
There was the time I was seven and fell off my bike speeding down a hill, scrapping all the skin off my right cheek.
There were my teenage years when I felt left out that I was the only one of my friends who didn’t have zits to complain about. With great determination I scratched three “zits” onto my forehead and felt quite proud until this stupid move developed into skin picking disorder, a habit that continued into my late twenties.
What followed were the exhausted years of motherhood during which I didn’t have the energy to change into night clothes let alone cleanse my skin properly and regularly fell into bed face-first, unwashed, uncleansed, unmoisturised.
Now I am 40 and thanks to a charming combination of ageing and my Italian heritage I have an oily t-zone as well as light wrinkles around my eyes and mouth.
I think the first lesson I am going to teach my daughter is that her skin really tells the journey of her life and that she will wear her deepest issues on her face. The less she stresses about skin issues and in fact everything in life the better her skin will be.
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