The Mask I wear

I woke up, looked in the mirror, and immediately regretted it.

Why does my confidence depend on a little bit of mascara? Why do I feel like I'll never be the right size, the right shape, the right kind of pretty? This is a chaotic deep dive into my brain-where self-doubt and bad body image run wild, society's beauty standards make the rules, and my confidence is hanging on by a thread (and a little bit of concealer).

Relatable? Probably. Dramatic? Absolutely.

This is an ongoing story of the workings of my brain. Some parts are just pieces and I write as I go and ask I think that's why they'll be shorter.