I'll never forget the morning I looked in the mirror and didn't recognise the face looking back at me.
I'd always taken care of my skin. SPF every day since my 20s. A solid routine — retinol, vitamin C, hyaluronic acid. I drank water. I ate well. I did everything right.
And then, somewhere between 43 and 45, something shifted. Not wrinkles. Not spots. The shape of my face itself had quietly changed. My jawline was softer. My cheeks were lower. The face I'd had my whole adult life was heading south — and nothing I was doing was stopping it.
I tried more things. Better things. Microneedling. RF treatments. A round of filler. Some of it helped with texture and volume. But the droop? The jowls forming at my jaw? The cheeks that used to sit high?
Still there.
I started avoiding mirrors. I started standing differently in photos. I started looking at my face the way you look at something you're afraid of losing.
What I didn't know — what nobody had told me clearly — was that I was fighting the wrong battle entirely.