I’m currently in Los Angeles, CA and it’s been a tad crazy these days. I attended Coachella week 1 and it was pretty awesome. I finally saw some of my favorite bands, and I confess I shed 1 or 2 tears when Interpol walked in on stage.
I also had the best Korean short rib tacos in the history!
I will return to the normal schedule soon!

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Chapter 1. 16ish.

    Most of you will go through puberty, breakups and college and never visit Hormones Roller Coaster Land. Go to a party, come back just waaaaay too turnt to remove your make up and wake up as if nothing has happened. Pick up whatever you see from a drugstore, splash your face with it and carry on with your normal day. For some reason I thought I would be one of you. The innocence.

   Flash back to high school in Brazil. I wasn’t into fashion or make-up at all. I was very boyish and wouldn’t spend too much time pampering or thinking about my looks because I thought it was stupid. Tough girl, but every time someone stared too long at me, I wanted to disappear. I was always breaking out. 

   When I was 15-16 my mom opened a restaurant, so my sisters and I all had to work there part time. The customers were all friendly and they loved stopping by to chat with my mom, who I could only wish to be like. She’s such a people person, and she forced taught us how to a have a sense of humor/sarcasm from a very young age. So it became my strongest self-defence mechanism.

   One time, I was serving a regular customer (a doctor), when he told me my skin looked like a cheese grater. He came back to the restaurant with his family a few weeks later and said: “Oh, ok. Your skin is not THAT bad today huh, good for you.” I laughed it off and replied: “Oh, Thanks! It’s because I haven’t washed my face in a week. Anything to drink?”.

   The damage was already done. On the outside I was very funny and silly, but inside I was growing as one of the most self-conscious girl out there.

   The products I was suggested by then were glycerine soap bar and clay mask. I buried myself in heavy metal music and some self-destructive behaviours twice a day before and after meals by my own choice too.

   Is this really the path to self acceptance, self love and healing? Stay tuned.


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Hometown in Brazil, December 2005. Too emo for smiles.

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Singapore, April 2012. Still struggling but at least more confident.

Ps: I learned English on my own, so if any grammar mistake drives you crazy, I apologize in advance.