Body Coverage Perfector

After my son's pregnancy I covered my legs for five summers. Inner-thigh stretch marks, two C-section abscesses, the usual.

I got Bronzata for my sister's wedding in June. I thought I'd only wear it for the occasion. Now I use it in the garden with my little girl too, because I can finally wear shorts.

My husband just said: "I didn't know you were doing your legs." He didn't know because you can't see it.

I bump into everything — bed corners, table edges, the washing machine knob. Always have. I've got yellow, purple, blue bruises in different stages on both thighs, basically all year round. Plus a dark mole-like spot on my inner calf that came up after a sun-allergy reaction two years ago.

Last Sunday, my cousin's birthday at the lake, short dress. I applied Bronzata with the brush the night before on the worst spots. I was about to put a plaster over it like I always do, but there was nothing left to cover.

My brother, who's seen me since I was five, looks at me and goes: 'since when are your legs clear?' Since a week ago, I told him. Since a week ago.

My wedding in September, Carolina Herrera dress with a bare back. On my shoulder blades I have two small dark post-acne marks from my teens that the photographer always had to retouch in the previews.

Bronzata applied in the morning, 10 minutes to dry, dressed. I danced until three in the morning under the lights. No marks on the dress. No marks on the groom's neck.

The photos came out with no retouching. My mother cried looking at them. For the first time you couldn't see the marks.

Milk-white skin all year, even after two weeks at the sea. They called me "the little mermaid" and it wasn't a compliment. For the last four years I've worn trousers even in July.

Bronzata didn't make me "tanned". It just made me look like a normal person who leaves the house. Shade 1N, the lightest one, looks like my colour if I went out in the sun for a month without catching any.

First selfie in shorts posted on Instagram in four years. Not a trick. Not a pose. Just my legs, finally.

Two kids, two waves of stretch marks on my hips and inner thighs. I got them in four years, my body never had time to recover between one pregnancy and the next. I'd bought a green floral bikini before the first one — I found it the other day at the back of a drawer, still with the tag.

Holiday in Liguria with my sister, first afternoon by the hotel pool. Bronzata applied in the morning after the shower, eight minutes, I walked out of the room. My sister was about to say 'you forgot your sarong' and then she looked at me.

Nothing dramatic, no before-after photos. The stretch marks are still there, I feel them if I run my hand over them. But you can't see them. I stayed in the pool until the lifeguard said they were closing.

I had twelve moles removed over the last three years — melanoma history in the family. They healed into red-purple keloid scars on my chest and arms. Scar tape for a year: nothing. Laser quoted: too expensive.

My cousin's wedding in May, maid of honour, sleeveless dress chosen by the bride. I was about to say no.

Two passes of Bronzata over the most marked keloids. The scars don't show in the wedding photos. They haven't disappeared — they're covered. But that's what I wanted.

Eighteen months postpartum. My son walks, I still can't change in front of my husband. Purple stretch marks on my belly and inner thighs, "freshly burst" as they say in my family. Bio-Oil for four months: nothing. Laser quoted €3,200: I just laughed, I'm on maternity leave.

Bronzata ordered in secret. First evening together in months, I chose to wear his shirt, nothing underneath. He didn't notice. I did.

It's not "I've accepted my body". It's that now I have the choice to show it or not.

Always 1A complexion — the one the Sephora assistant calls 'porcelain'. My legs have this translucent thing that reflects even the office strip lights. Blue bruises if I knock the kitchen stool that stay for two weeks. Small spider veins behind the knee that other people don't have.

Saturday afternoon. I'd had Bronzata for a week, I finally opened it. Three passes per leg on the sofa in front of Netflix. I put on my boyfriend's old shorts that I only wear at home.

I stared at my legs for ten minutes without recognising them. The bruises under the thigh gone. The spider veins gone. Like they look like normal legs — not model legs, normal-person legs. And for me that was already a dream.

Cystic acne from 13 to 22. My face skin recovered over time. My back didn't. Deep post-acne scars between the shoulder blades, never a mirror behind me.

Company Christmas dinner, formal dress code, a colleague suggested a dress with a low back. For the first time in ten years I said yes.

Bronzata applied on the back with the brush — I'll admit it takes a bit of patience to reach properly between the shoulder blades. Result: scars still there, but covered. Group photo without hiding.