Lazy, forgetful, pain averse, annoyed. If I had to describe my attitude toward skincare, it would be this. I’m not proud of it.
At the age of 36, I’m in a weird skin-limbo, experiencing the worst of two worlds: I still break out with depressing regularity, yet I’m also starting to notice fine lines around my eyes, like a hormonal high schooler with wrinkles. I don’t want to care about my skin issues. I don’t want to scrutinize my reflection, fret over my ever-deepening frown lines, or wonder how long that sun spot has been on my cheek. I want to embrace and love my face as evidence of
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