My first skincare catastrophe

The year is 1993. I’m nine-years-old.

I’ve decided I don’t want to go to school, so I convince my parents I’m unwell and secure myself a coveted sick day. The house and everything in it become ‘Property of Tenille’. Oh, yeah.

I settle in (smug) with a bowl of Weet-Bix piled high with brown sugar to watch cartoons and morning tv. Everything’s great, perfect even, until it hits noon and The Young and the Restless comes on and I, being young, get restless.

The house is ‘Property of Tenille’, everything in it is ‘Property of Tenille’, so I get to snooping. Christine’s drawers, Dad’s drawers, the top of the cupboards, the bottom of the cupboards, under the beds, kitchen cabinets, bathroom cabinets - and there it was, a bottle of Ambre Solaire. My old friend.

“Ohmygod! I love self-tanner! I! Love! Self! Tanner!” (I did not love self-tanner. Christine put it on me once, literally once, for a dance concert.)

With the confidence of the little idiot I am,, I apply the white lotion good and thick to my arms, legs and face. Not my neck, not my belly, not my back. Just arms, legs and face. Then I wait… 10 seconds. Nothing. That’s’ weird.

I apply another layer - arms, legs, face. I wait a little bit longer this time. Fifteen seconds later, still nothing. Obviously it’s broken.

I’m not wasting any more snooping time. I don’t want to be a bronzy goddess anymore. I’m going to find some new mischief. God, I love mischief.

A few hours later, I hear tyres in the driveway. I fling myself onto the couch and slip back into character - pale, weak, near-death daughter.

My family walk in, take one look at me, and explode with laughter. I’m confused. I’m offended! I am sick! I’ve been sick all day. Left alone. Abandoned. Unsupervised. Don’t they know how hard this has been on me? This is not how they should be greeting me. Fucking. Monsters.

Still laughing, Christine asks, “What have you done to your face?”

“What? Nothing.”

“Tenille, go and look in the mirror.” Off I stomp to the bathroom.

Have you ever seen a small child who looks like they’ve rolled in caramel sauce and  Cheezel powder? I have. It’s not great, guys. It’s not fuckin’ great.

My parents embrace the 'natural consequences' approach and send me into the world looking like rusty nail. They suck. I go to school. I go to basketball. I go to my cousin’s house. I go everywhere, lookin’ like a skid mark.

And of course, because life is nightmare and people are awful, everyone has questions and everyone has thoughts and everyone has to share them with me. They all suck too.

Why are they all doing this to me?  

Present day

Look, I wouldn’t be a true millennial if I wasn’t traumatised by the consequences of my own actions. It was so ridiculous and I was genuinely so hurt that people didn’t just pretend I was normal-Tenille-colour. What. A. Wally.

These days, I leave the self-tanning to the professionals and stick to what I know: helping people feel good about their skin (without turning them orange).

The Great Skin Guide is a founder-led blog for honest, simple and fun skincare content. I hope you love reading it as much as I love writing it.

Tenille Hellier is the founder of It’s Tenille, an online personalised skincare service based in Adelaide. A certified skincare coach, Tenille built her practice on the idea that skincare should be as simple as possible for consumers. Her personalised skincare programs and product recommendations are based on her rigorous product selection protocol because Tenille believes every product should earn its place in your routine. Book a free 15-minute skin chat with Tenille to figure out the right next step for your skin.

You can find Tenille on Instagram, Facebook and Substack. She’s not cool enough for TikTok.