Eczema: a journey to nakedness
I’d been hiding my skin for a lifetime. Now, as I hurtled towards marriage, it was time to bare all…
Exclusive | 2 min read | National Eczema Week
As far as I can remember, I’ve always had eczema. Little patches behind the back of my knees, in between my fingers, and sometimes around my eyes. But it wasn’t a big deal to me growing up and my siblings had it too. In fact, I rarely thought of it. We got on with life as normal, swimming with confidence, just like our peers.
But while my siblings grew out of their eczema, mine seemed to worsen into adulthood. It spread, itchy and dry, from the back of my knees to my calves, inner thighs, neck, face, hands, arms, my upper back and tummy. I didn’t understand why it began to spread, or why it persisted but each morning, I woke up on a bed of dead skin. It didn’t matter how much water I drank, or how many oils and moisturisers I used, my skin was constantly flaking off.
I felt disgusted by my body and often thanked God under my breath that I was single, feeling relieved that as a devout Christian, nobody would see my body, even if I was dating.
Nothing I did seemed to help the eczema so I stopped using steroid creams and became vegan, then gluten free, hopeful that an all-natural and low-inflammatory diet would help. I even tried phototherapy – medical sun-beds. This left me looking tanned and did help with the way my eczema looked, but it was a short term treatment, the benefits quickly fading away.
Whilst my friends wore cute little dresses, I resolved to wear jumpsuits, covering as much of my skin as possible. I felt hopeless, confused and gutted that I felt so limited in the things I could wear comfortably. In my mind, eczema was the first thing everyone saw when they met me and when it was particularly bad, I dreaded meeting new people. Would they be alarmed by my appearance? Pity me? I wanted neither.
Growing connections
I had a large group of friends through church, and one of them was Patrick. It wasn’t until the pandemic that our friendship grew deeper, slowing turning into romance. Six months later, Patrick proposed in Paris and we set the big day for four months later.
But in the pit of my stomach, a worry nagged at me. How much could I improve my skin before that day? As Christians, very early on in our relationship we expressed a commitment to waiting till we were married to have any kind of sexual contact including kissing. Patrick hadn’t seen more of my body than a stranger on the street.
Suddenly, the countdown was on. Being engaged meant just 16 weeks till really being seen.
Like most brides, I wanted to wear a stunning, strappy dress and feel beautiful on my special day, but I had eczema on my neck, arms and hands. Fortunately, a long dress would hide the dry patches on the back of my knees, but what could I do about my top half?
Anxiety
I worried about my skin itching during the vows as whenever I felt hot or nervous, my skin usually flared up. I debated playing it safe and covering up as much skin as possible in an elegant pant suit. Alternatively, I could spend the next four months surviving on freshly squeezed juices and veggies in hope of some improvement.
It was exhausting and disheartening to have our wedding day hanging over me, instead of being an exciting pinnacle. Until that point I’d kept so covered up, Patrick didn’t even know I had eczema, and the pressure I felt keeping my worries to myself became overwhelming. I decided to come clean.
Four weeks before our wedding day, as we waited on a station platform for the next train, I blurted it all out to Patrick: all about my skin and just how ugly I felt. I told him how most of my body was covered in eczema, my skin peeled off in the night and the difficulties I had sleeping. I shared how during the day, I went to the bathroom multiple times just to moisturise my skin from head to toe, in the hopes of preventing it cracking painfully.
Patrick proposed to Shakira in Paris. Photo: Shakira Peronet
I also told him how I’d bought a wedding dress but even this close to the wedding, didn’t know if I would wear it because I felt so hideous.
Patrick’s face was a picture. He was flabbergasted by my revelations. He said: ‘I never really think about your skin and to be honest, it’s not something I notice. I think there will be many things that will come and try to be a barrier in our marriage, but your skin won’t be one of them.’
New beginnings
In that moment, I felt so loved and accepted, but I also felt sobered. I was at an important juncture. I could either let eczema make my engagement and wedding day painful and stressful, or I could choose to feel positively about myself.
I had always thought once my skin became clear, I’d become happy, or that my skin would never be clear, and life will always feel hard for me. But looking into the eyes of the man I loved, and who loved me in return exactly as I was, I realised I could have eczema but still feel happy and good about myself. It was revolutionary!
And four weeks later, I wore the strappy wedding dressed I hoped I’d have the courage to wear and joined the man I was about to marry at the altar. He looked as happy as I felt. As we took our vows, I was overjoyed to be not only be marrying my best friend, but feeling confidence radiating from within. I smiled so much my face ached.
Beauty
Even as those around us snapped pictures and videos, for once, I had no desire to cower away, hide or to ask them to stop. It seemed my prayers had been heard and answered only they didn’t come in the form of clear skin, but clarity within. And with it, I felt beautiful.
Since being married, I’ve had many more victories with my confidence than ever before. On our honeymoon I wore shorts out and didn’t feel concerned about other people’s thoughts about me, with Patrick always making me feel beautiful and adored.
For so long, I’d believed I was ‘safer’ alone, away from judgment or criticism, but opening up to Patrick reminded me the barriers you put in place to protect yourself from pain can also cause you to miss out on so much love and encouragement.
My relationship with beauty and my skin is a journey I am still on, but by being more aware of my mindset and the thoughts I entertain, I know this is a battle I can finally win.
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