Guys, this post doesn’t have any nudity or boobs—I sincerely..

Guys, this post doesn’t have any nudity or boobs—I sincerely apologize. Yesterday, I made a painful mistake. For some time, I’d been chatting with a fan, and the conversation gradually moved into a more casual tone. Those of you who follow me know how much I love to complain. But this guy? He got the full dose. He made the mistake of admitting that he found me pleasant, and I started oversharing way more than I should have. As usual, I began to impose myself, even though I could feel his interest fading.

Yesterday, I ended up spiraling into reflection about my real appearance—not the one you see here, with makeup, soft lighting, and flattering poses, but my actual self. The one with stray hairs, wrinkles, horrifying acne scars. The scars on my chest and pubic area. The badly chewed nails and fingers. Fans will rush into my DMs to defend and encourage me, but I know it looks awful. This isn’t a “normal” body; it’s a body that its owner doesn’t love and has damaged.

So, of course, I brought all of this to him. I unloaded these thoughts. And then, on top of it, I sent him photos. Of my hands, of my face. He didn’t say anything bad—just offered polite support. But I felt like life whipped me across the face. The moment I realized I’d ruined something again—this time, a pleasant, light conversation—was excruciating. I am pathetic. I am being pitied. I knew this would happen long before it did, but I still dragged it out, still pushed it into this ugly, inappropriate level of oversharing. Why? How could I be so out of line?

The worst part is, I wasn’t seeking approval, admiration, or even sympathy. I wasn’t trying to get anything out of it. I was just drawn to the act of… well, self-humiliation? Though I didn’t even want that, not like this. Maybe I was just testing my own boundaries.

And here’s the kicker: this morning, I woke up, and my face looked great again! Like, yesterday, after not eating all day, not sleeping, spending hours traveling and out in the cold, then doing a peel and applying retinol in the evening, I actually thought, Gods, my face is so horrifying! I didn’t stop to think that I just needed water and proper rest. My self-esteem only exists in the moment—it shifts and changes with the moment. I can’t see myself objectively, and I don’t take care of myself. I don’t attribute things to external circumstances; I blame myself. Maybe these are signs of narcissistic personality disorder.

But you know what I noticed today? My hands are beautiful. Even with the chewed-up fingers.