I know I should post an unfiltered selfie. It would be empowering. A stand against the control beauty filters have over us.

But I won’t — at least not today or tomorrow, and probably not the next day, either. Because, honestly, I’m not ready.

I know beauty filters are messing with my head. I know they distort my idea of what skin is “supposed” to look like. Still, every time I open my front-facing camera, the first thing I do — before positioning the camera to my “good side” — is swipe through the filters. 

This one’s too orange, that one looks fake — because it is — and then finally, I find the one that makes me look the way I want. Pores blurred, skin smooth and cheekbones defined. 

I have to admit — it’s a version of me that I wish was real. 

But if you asked about my skin without a filter? It’s never been worse than it is today.  

I’ve always been passionate about skincare. I love the routine and the self-care. 

I’m careful about what I use — mainly CeraVe, Cetaphil and all the gentle, derm-approved products — but my skin hasn’t been cooperating. Lately, it’s been breakouts, redness and texture that won’t go away — the kind that makeup can’t hide, no matter how many layers I pile on.

It’s gotten to the point where I went to my dermatologist over winter break, hoping for answers, and left with an oral antibiotic and a cream that was strong enough to bleach my pillowcase. That was a low point. 

It was mildly terrifying that my skin was so “bad” it needed something that could burn through fabric. 

That’s where the problem starts. The worse my skin gets, the more I rely on filters. The more I use filters, the worse I feel about my skin. It’s a cycle I can’t seem to break. 

I scroll past someone’s “just woke up like this” selfie — filtered, obviously — and then I’m looking in the mirror, leaning in too close, picking apart every pore and bump and wondering why my skin doesn’t look like what I see online. 

I know how messed up it is. I use filters because I don’t like how my skin looks, and then I dislike my skin more because I’m constantly comparing it to the filtered version. It’s a version of me that doesn’t exist but somehow feels more real than my reflection.

Social media has trained my brain to believe that skin isn’t supposed to have texture, that pores are optional and that redness means I’m doing something wrong. When my actual, living, breathing skin doesn’t match what I see online every day, I feel like I’ve failed. 

I know I’m not the only one doing it. We pretend filters are just adding a little glow or a bit of brightness when, really, we’re erasing half our faces — erasing the parts that make us human.

I keep telling myself I’ll stop. I’ll be honest about what my skin looks like — because no one cares. 

No one except me. 

But then I end up using the one filter that barely looks like a filter — a soft skin blur, a bit of brightness. It’s the filter that lets me pretend, even just for a second, that I have the skin I want. 

It’s subtle enough that I can lie to myself.

I want to get to a point where I like my real skin, and I don’t zoom in on every bump or pore. I don’t want to feel the need to fix myself before I can exist on camera. 

I want to stop relying on filters. But I’m not there yet, and that’s okay.

Because this whole thing — beauty, self-image and acceptance — is not a linear journey. It’s complicated, messy and full of contradictions. 

If you’re reading this and thinking the same, just know you’re not the only one.

Maybe one day I’ll post that unfiltered selfie. Maybe I’ll feel brave enough to show my true skin, even when it’s breaking out, red and uneven. Or, maybe I’ll keep faking it till I make it. 

Yeah, probably that. 

But here’s the thing — I’m done beating myself up about it. Because at the end of the day, it’s my face, my skin and my choice.