I was recently approached by BioOil, which really needs little introduction, as it is the go-to product for anyone wanting to lessen the appearances of stretchmarks or scars. A few people have also told me that it's also a secret beauty product for tired skin, used once a week on parched skin.
I've been asked to be a Skin Story Ambassador, and Skin Stories is a campaign to celebrate how every scar and stretchmark tells a story - be it the birth of a child, or during treachorous childhood japes. The campaign raises money for the British Skin Foundation, and this year benificiaries include the Iolanthe Midwifery Trust, and Look Good Feel Better, a wonderful cancer charity I've written about before.
A friend has shared her skin story here below - we all have scars and marks, and if we talk about and share our stories, hopefully we can be a little less embarassed or self-conscious about them. They all tell a story...
The stretchmarks when my body rounded out so quickly in adolescence, and led to an eating disorder and my trying to cover up for years, until I rebelled against my own self and defiantly revealed all. The scar under my chin, when I didn't listen to my mother and wore my friend's skirt that was far too big while I was skipping rope, and ended up smashing my chin open on a concrete floor. I thrashed around so wildly that after the doctor, the nurse, the receptionist AND my mother had held me down for the stitches, there was no way it was ever going to be a neat job. When I had my daughter, after a rather long 36 hour labour, I had an emergency C-section. When my sister saw my scar, she casually commented about what a neat job it was (she is a doctor). All I could do was burst into tears. Every time I looked at the scar, or touched it, it was a reminder that I'd failed. Failed to have that all-important natural birth. It took a very long time, but finally I came to accept my birth story, and I'm actually pretty proud of me. It's where that new little life rose out of me when I literally thought I was going to die. That may sound melodramatic, but at the time that is really what it felt like. When I see those scars and marks, I now give a wry smile. It's part of our story, of growing up, of learning lessons, of the moment we became a family, and part of my beautiful girl's story.