For six weeks, to the day, I have been taking antibiotics (doxyline) and using only fragrance-free Cetaphil face wash and moisturiser to rid my skin of rosacea and it’s bloody boring. I miss the beautiful scents of my treasured skincare products which are stashed in our bathroom cabinet (annoying Phil with their space-taking) and wishing to see sunlight again. The intoxicating scent of geranium oil, rosemary extract and evening primrose oil are so calming after a long day and feel amazing on your skin as your head hits the pillow ready for sleep. Instead, I currently go to bed with my face smelling like plastic.

But, alas, the doctor put me on strict orders to take the drugs and use basic products on my skin for TWELVE-FUCKING-WEEKS. So, I’m halfway and close to giving up… but whenever I say that, everyone (none of whom are doctors) jump on their noble ponies and point out that if I stop too soon the rosacea bacteria will still be in my body and therefore not defeated. I mean, they’re probably right. But fuck me, smelling of plastic ain’t sexy.

So now I find myself drooling over skincare ranges (which I don’t need, as previously stated there’s plenty in my bathroom already) every time I receive an email from Sheerluxe or Aesop or pop into a chemist or department store who are no doubt having a sale.

My impulse buys used to include handbags and necklaces, but in the last year or so I’ve noticed they’ve moved towards skincare and beauty products – mostly because of the gorgeous packaging. I’ve been making a conscience effort over the past couple of weeks to curb the beauty-product-buying-binges and instead save the hard cash, or spend it on sunglasses (an absolute must when one lives in Australia!).

Side-story: I did splurge on a pair of Celine sunglasses last month and my oh my have they made me a happy girl.

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Treat yo self. @celine 🕶

A post shared by Bronnie (@bronninator) on


So tonight, when you go home and wash off your makeup with your foaming, citrus/floral/indescribable-beautifully-flavoured face wash, think of me; washing mine with the creamy, white substance that resembles sperm and smells of nothing. Of course, then followed by the lathering on of the sensitive moisturiser that smells like the inside of a plastic Tupperware container straight out of a clean dishwasher.


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