I Think I Took Concealer a Little Too Literally

I thought "full coverage" applied to my problems too.

I was obsessed with my mum's makeup long before I was old enough to wear it.

Somewhere along the way, I learned to see my face as a paint-by-numbers canvas: strategically highlight the good bits, carefully conceal the "bad" ones, and whatever you do, don't colour outside the lines.

My school's no-makeup policy meant I had no armour going into what felt like war. High school.

An emotional battlefield of angsty teenagers trying to figure out who they were, all while being squeezed into neat little academic boxes with glass walls so everyone else could judge, berate and torment them along the way.

Sounds fun, right?

I vividly remember the first time I wore Collection Clear mascara to English class.

Not quite the act of defiance I thought it was.

No one noticed.

I spent the entire lesson staring at my crush, fluttering my lashes like I was trying to communicate with the back of his head in Morse code, convinced this subtle transformation would make him ask me to the weekly Bondi disco at the local swimming centre.

Spoiler alert: that didn't happen.

But I did find it strange how something so unnoticeable to everyone else made me feel like a 14-year-old Victoria's Secret model in the making. I don't think I need to add pictures for you to realise that probably wasn't true.

But it felt true to me.

And when you're fourteen, that's sometimes enough.

That was the catalyst for my makeup journey.

I'd spend hours trying to perfect winged eyeliner, aiming for "Egyptian queen" elegance rather than the slightly more questionable "have you been in a fight?" black-eye effect.

Zoella's makeup tutorials were practically scripture, and I was fully committed to the cause.

The moment my mum bought me my first Urban Decay eyeshadow palette felt like a sacrilegious rite of passage.

I clearly didn't get the memo that it was designed for smoky-eyed nights out on the town, not 8:45am registration.

I learned that the hard way when I turned up to "wear your own clothes" day at school looking like a lost member of KISS.

Then people started pointing out things I'd never noticed before.

My nose, the chosen enemy, was apparently too big for my face, at least according to the finely tuned expertise of pre-pubescent cruelty.

So what did I do?

I did what any deeply over-invested teenager would do.

I went searching for the most surgical solution available without a scalpel.

Contour.

I truly believe contouring helped 14-year-old me navigate one of the hardest periods of my life.

I had never felt so worthless or insecure, and say what you want about makeup, but something that gave that little girl a bit of hope can't be as damaging or superficial as people sometimes make it out to be.

I'm not saying makeup should be a band-aid for confidence or self-acceptance.

But it can be a genuinely helpful tool.

There are parties I would never have gone to, experiences I would have avoided entirely, if it weren't for that ELF contour stick.

Fast forward to university.

I was diagnosed with PCOS, and within a few months, it turned into a full-blown hormonal acne catastrophe.

I was horrified.

I missed Freshers.

I missed lectures.

I barely left the house.

I started ordering food online, spending the little money I earned working, because I was too scared to be seen in a supermarket.

It got so bad that I eventually had to take a leave of absence as my mental health completely took a hit.

After being stuck in an NHS limbo, I started trying to find ways to manage the acne.

But the redness and scarring?

They felt like permanent reminders.

That's where Collection Lasting Perfection concealer came in, not as a fix, but as something that made the world feel accessible again.

Something that lets me step outside without feeling like I'm on display.

I know to some of you, this might sound dramatic.

But to those who understand, you understand what it takes just to show up.

Makeup is the reason I was able to experience so many things.

It gave me the confidence to face the world when that felt impossible and made me feel beautiful when I couldn't see it in myself.

Think about it.

You don't tell an artist to leave a canvas blank because it's more "authentic."

You celebrate what they choose to create.

Makeup is no different.

Some people want a minimalist canvas; others want colour, shimmer and texture.

Neither is more valid.

It's their canvas to create.

I want to challenge the idea that makeup is purely superficial.

Whether it's sneaking on your mum's first red lipstick, borrowing your nan's slightly expired, oxidised foundation, or opening your very first Urban Decay palette, makeup becomes part of our memories.

It marks moments, milestones and versions of ourselves we'll never quite be again.

Some of my favourite memories—and some experiences I might never have had at all—exist because of a little Collection concealer, an Elf contour stick, and an Urban Decay Palette.

Not because it changed my face.

Because it changed whether I believed I could walk into the room.