When beauty standards make you question your skin, it becomes a long journey to self-love. Our confessor talks about her journey with stretch marks, skin toning, and learning to embrace her beauty — flaws and all.
Stretch marks have had an evolving perception journey. Once upon a time, they were seen as undesirable, but have now slowly made their way into mainstream body acceptance. Hailed as tiger stripes, symbols of growth, or simply, skin doing what skin does. However, even with the growing visibility of stretch marks in beauty campaigns and social media self-love posts, our feelings of them on our bodies is another story.
I’ve come to love my stretch marks, but that wasn’t always the case. They’ve been there since I was a baby, and my mum reminded me at every point as I grew older. Now I realise it’s because she never wanted me to feel bad about it. But acceptance isn’t always linear. You can believe in body positivity and still have moments where your reflection makes you pause or doubt. Like I do when a new stretch mark breaks out on my hip and itches. (Why does nobody talk about the itching?).
That’s what My Beauty Confession series is about — real conversations that honour the contradictions, the confusion, and the growth. No judgement, no filters.
In this second edition, our confessor shares how stretch marks pushed her into considering skin toning — a decision born from insecurity, not vanity. Her story reminds us how beauty ideals, no matter how subtle, shape our self-image in ways we’re only just beginning to unpack. If you’ve ever tried to shrink or edit yourself to feel more worthy, this confession might just feel like a hug.
Read also: My Beauty Confession: I don’t have wide hips… but I still hope they grow someday
How her view of beauty has evolved over the years
Like many of us, she grew up measuring beauty by society’s yardstick — where certain features like skin tones and body types are prioritised as the gold standard. But over time, something shifted.
She realised that beauty isn’t something the world gives you. It’s something you claim for yourself. “The moment you decide and believe that you are beautiful on the inside, it starts to show externally,” she says. That inner conviction became her guide, helping her redefine what beauty meant beyond the superficial. And in that shift, she noticed something powerful: when you see yourself as worthy, the world follows suit. “You don’t only determine how people treat you, but also how they see you.”
Her beauty confession on skin toning, and how stretch marks led to it
There’s something deeply intimate about stretch marks. They sneak up on us, often before we’ve grown into ourselves. For some women, they come with age or pregnancy. But for her? The uninvited and unexplainable one showed up when she was just 10 years old.
She remembers discovering them one day on her thighs, wavy lines that had seemingly popped up overnight. “I ran to my mum to show her,” she recalls, “but I didn’t get any comfort.” That moment, small as it might seem, was the beginning of her biggest insecurity.
In boarding school, things got worse. She was constantly told she would grow up to be fat and even accused of being sexually active — just because her skin had stretched. The comments were relentless, and it wore on her. The stretch marks multiplied, creeping down to her calves. She requested longer uniforms just to hide them. Short skirts became a no-go. And even when she was alone, she couldn’t bear to be naked.
Then came the idea: “Since these stretch marks are lighter than my skin tone, how about I tone my skin to blend with them?” she thought. “That was mistake number two,” she says plainly.
She didn’t dive fully into bleaching, but the desire to be lighter was real. She tried toning her skin, believing it would somehow bring her peace. But the more she altered herself, the more disconnected she felt. “The more I toned, the farther I felt from who I truly am.”
Reading her words felt like looking into a mirror. As a dark-skinned woman who grew up very skinny — size 6 skinny — when I started gaining weight at 25 years old, my stretch marks became more pronounced. It was jarring. Although I’ve never felt the urge to tone my skin, accepting the stretch marks took time.
Even in acceptance, some days I catch a new one and flinch. Other days, I trace them gently and feel beautiful. Like her, I’ve learnt that these lines don’t lessen my beauty, they deepen it. We’re never alone in our insecurities, but staying silent about them makes us feel like we are.
I agree with the confessor when she says, “I am a dark-skinned African woman and stretch marks are part of the deal. Those beautiful patterns are God’s way of showing off his art.”
Read also: The whispers of shade: Navigating the complexities of colourism and bleaching
The first time she felt beautiful, and why that moment stuck with her
It wasn’t a boyfriend, a makeover, or even a compliment from a friend. It was a scene in a movie.
She remembers a conversation between two male characters in the movie All Things Fall Apart. One described a woman he had gone on a date with the night before — how beautiful and curvy she was. Then the other asked, “Did she have them stretch marks?” And in bright, excited confirmation, the man said yes.
That moment shifted something in her. To see stretch marks not just acknowledged, but desired, planted a seed of affirmation she hadn’t received. “That simple scene changed my perspective,” she shares. A few weeks later, she dared to wear a short skirt again for the first time since becoming aware of her body. Now, her story is different. “I have stretch marks on my outer thigh, inner thigh, breasts, bum, legs, and even arms, and you’d catch me in the miniest of skirts on an average day,” she says proudly.
The insecurity that once tried to silence her has become something she proudly lives with. “Because guess what? It doesn’t even matter. People don’t see the things you’re so conscious about.” We say even if they notice, who cares? Your happiness is the priority; never forget that.
I find that moment powerful and familiar. The media shapes our self-perception, especially when we’re young. I grew up with a few light-skinned friends, and it was easy to feel like I wasn’t the standard of beauty. Boys often gravitated towards them first, and as a teenager, that stays with you. However I also remember watching women like Genevieve Nnaji on screen — dark-skinned, elegant, and adored by her love interests — and it reminded me that I, too, was desirable. It affirmed my place.
It’s funny how the validation we don’t receive in real life sometimes comes from fictional worlds. Sometimes, that’s all we need to see ourselves more clearly. And maybe, that’s enough to start showing up for ourselves in real life too.
A truth about beauty she wishes more people understood
“Your flaws are not a mistake,” she shares thoughtfully. That realisation didn’t come overnight but from years of internal battles and slow, steady self-growth. “There is beauty in imperfection,” she adds.
Beyond her stretch marks, there’s one feature she’s still navigating: the moustache above her upper lip. “I shave it often,” she admits. “But I’m still working up the confidence to let it be.” It’s a small detail, one of those things that you think people don’t notice, but you always do.
I’ve been there. I started developing chin hairs around the time I turned 29. I remember being shocked and even a little offended. When my mum complained about hers, I laughed, never thinking it would happen to me too. They emerge more frequently these days and I won’t lie; if I notice it while I’m out, I feel restless. I’m human, and sometimes, this affects my confidence, so I have moments where I just want to rush home and pluck it out. However, most days, I accept it as part of what my body does as I grow older and it shouldn’t affect me so much.
Her confession reminds me that acceptance is sometimes a quiet decision not to let the little things undo all the self-love you’ve built.
Ready to share your beauty confessions? Fill out the form here. Whether it’s a memory, a struggle, a ritual, or a revelation, this column is a no-judgment zone. It’s where vulnerability is welcomed, stories are sacred, and no experience is too small or too bold to be told. From childhood insecurities to adult discoveries, we want to hear it all: the good, the hard, the healing.
