Among my many mental disorders, my Wrinkles Psychosis is probably the most laughable. I am 28. I started worrying about the degradation of my skin at about 25. That’s when I started taking care of my skin seriously. A girlfriend told me she’d read about a miracle product in Cosmopolitan: Advanced Night Repair.
“It’s a serum. If you put a few drops on your skin every morning and every evening, your skin won’t age. It’s really expensive but I think it’s worth it so I bought it and I am sure it will last me at least half a year.”
Now my friend isn’t dumb. She’s a literature teacher in high-school and all. But she still takes what Cosmo says at face value. And so did I. I say did because I stopped reading magazines when I realised most of it is written by PR agents to place their product.
“How much is it?”
“90 euros for 80 ml”
“No way I’m spending that much money for this!” A few weeks later, I bought it anyway. What’s 90 euros if your skin STOPS AGING? Despite being educated and intelligent, I really believed that applying this serum day and night would slow down the ageing process. And I know many women who believe the same about this product or another one. It’s always an expensive product that has loads of advertising everywhere.
A year later, I met another Wrinkle Psycho in New York City (aren’t all women Wrinkle Psychos a little bit?). She told me that she was really scared of getting wrinkles and therefore never frowned to avoid getting marks on her forehead. She was 22! At first, I made fun of her. But over time, I started noticing that women frowning a lot really had more marks. And frowning isn’t pretty anyway. So I gradually stopped frowning.
Now at almost 29, I can see that my skin changed really fast in my 28th year. While my forehead is still perfectly smooth, I look more tired in general and I have horrible, terrible, appalling LAUGH LINES (between the nose and the lips).
I stopped frowning but didn’t stop laughing. And the worst thing is that the line is deeper on one side than on the other because I smile in an asymmetrical way. I noticed them this year as they became visible even when I am not laughing. I started to check other women’s faces obsessively to see if they had laugh lines as well. Most of them do after a certain age and sometimes it makes them look sad, like droopy. How ironic.
I showed this post draft to Nick and he made fun of me. He said “I’m really disappointed in you for buying this bottle of expensive bullshit. Why do you obsess about your lines? Your face has this shape and it looks pretty. I don’t care if you get wrinkles, you’ll stay pretty.”
Then I told Andrew about it and he threatened to end our friendship if I ever got botox injections. However, he thinks it’s hilarious to undermine what little confidence I have: “And what about the wrinkles under your eyes, aren’t you worried about them?” He regularly makes fun of “the lack of expression” of my forehead and spent an entire Sunday morning making this picture of me looking old:
I know this post is going to come across as absolutely ludicrous to men. That’s because when men get wrinkles, it only makes them look more bad-ass and wiser! How unfair! I don’t know a single women who is not worried about her skin and ready to waste a lot of money on skincare products. Not reading magazines is definitely the first step to get out of this commercial nonsense. Then, talking about your wrinkles worries with men will probably help as well. Whatever you do, your skin will age so you’d better start accepting it.
You might also like: