Welcome readers, old and new, and Happy New Year!
I thought this post went out to all subscribers yesterday morning as usual, but evidently only a handful (quite a handful, but still) received it. So here it is again! It was originally for paid subscribers only—but on this second pass, I’m making it available to everyone. If you’ve already read it and commented, thank you! (And pardon the Wednesday morning intrusion.) If you haven’t read it, well, isthmus be your lucky day.
Please hit the ❤️ above if you look forward to the mellifluent tones of HNTFUYF in 2024; it keeps the atmosphere around here harmonious.
I’ve been flying around the world for the past two years, clocking lots of time in airports and train stations and metros in Japan and the US and somehow (somehow = a perpetually worn KN95 mask) never caught Covid. Then, a couple of weeks ago, I treated myself to dinner in one of those outdoor sheds in a place right up the street, empty when I sat down and buzzing when I left, unfortunately having picked up an unfriendly little bug. Because I am at this point a walking antibody (vaxed to the max), the bug seems to have settled mostly in my nose and psyche: Work? What’s that? Does it mean I have to move off the couch?
But here I am, writing to you surrounded by crumpled tissues and a couple of scented candles to confirm I can still smell (in spite of the potential health risk). I spent Christmas Eve and Christmas Day isolating in my own little manger, which might’ve been lovely—but because I was under the weather, I felt pretty lonely instead. Thank God for FaceTime, where, in a heartening development, my granddaughter, M, offered to tell me a story.
“What kind of story do you want, Grammie?” she asked.
‘What kind?” I said. “You mean, like, about who?”
“I mean,” she said, “do you want a personal narrative or fiction?”
“Wow.” I needed a minute. Then, “personal narrative?”
I tried to remember whether when I was in kindergarten, I knew what personal narrative was—or fiction for that matter. My most vivid memory is of the small pink rug I kept in my cubby and of my determination not to pee on it during nap time. (Now there’s a personal narrative worth repeating.)
Which brings me in my usual roundabout way to a reader question about “baby Botox.”
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Q: I am 30 years old and many of my friends are starting to get "baby Botox" as a preventative measure. I am not sure I am ready for this yet, but now I feel self-conscious standing next to them (in matching bridesmaid dresses no less)! Do you know of any alternatives at this stage? I have looked at red light masks and lasers but can't find the right answer! My impending fine lines thank you!
A: Dear 30-year-old reader! Please come sit on Val’s old, wrinkled knee. Comfortable? Okay, listen.
You might notice when you scan your lovely face for signs of aging that, in the immortal words of Frank Drebin, there’s nothing to see here. And, as dermatologist and HNTFUYF DermDiva, Heidi Waldorf, says, unless you’ve been tanning, smoking, and/or picking at your skin, it’s time to move along. Of course, if you spent your youth unwisely—as I did, broiling my baby-oiled face over an aluminum reflector—you might visit a dermatologist to assess the damage (and to discover anything that might be especially unwelcome). But otherwise, here’s what I suggest you do.
Find a mirror lit evenly on either side (not lit above or below, because that will make you look like a ghoul—a young ghoul, but still). Look into your eyes. You will soon hear a voice speaking to you. Could it be your impending fine lines? Are they saying if you don’t do something about them now, they’ll invade your face and destroy every last chance you have of looking decent in a bridesmaid dress? Are they saying your friends will look somehow more beautiful and radiant than you do, because you’re not taking advantage of the treatments that promise to keep you looking 30 forever? Are they telling you to read Vogue to underscore—in a backhanded way—why you should consider Botox in your 30s? Are they saying that you look okay today, but you must be vigilant about truncating any signs of aging if you don’t want to look decrepit in your 40s? Or at 31?
Actually, your impending fine lines may be doing you a favor. They may be reminding you that comparison is the death of happiness; that the future is unpredictable, which is why it’s critical to be present for now; that there are few things you can control—and though your appearance as you age may be one of them, that has less to do with Botox than with a life well-lived (and well sun-protected; an estimated 90% of skin aging is caused by sun exposure, according to the Skin Cancer Foundation).
Waldorf offers a more practical response to your question.
When you look in the mirror or take a selfie for assessment, do it from at least 12 inches away—that’s how others see you, she says. And when even to start thinking about trying Botox or another neurotoxin? If you either find yourself scowling, squinting, or frowning when you don’t mean to (that is, you look like you’re frowning when you’re not), or you can see remnants of your expression lines at rest, that’s when you might consider it. At that point, Botox can help you avoid developing etched-in lines. (I personally like some of my etched-in lines.)
Meanwhile, said Waldorf, maintain your youthful, healthy skin with a good basic regimen that includes a gentle cleanser, sunscreen every day (rain or shine), and if you aren’t pregnant, a retinoid. Are you wearing a bridesmaid dress to celebrate a declaration of love? Remember that, and your conspicuous radiance will be all you need.
HNTFUYF, a Payola-Free Zone
Readers, a few of you have asked if I get a cut from sales when I mention a product. I do not; I have turned away affiliate offers. I only mention products I’d like to buy myself, and therefore think you might like, too. I share this so you know my recommendations are offered without obligation.
Val Asks You
Don’t be shy! What’s your most vexing or intractable appearance issue? Send your beauty-related questions to valeriemonroe@substack.com. If I don’t have a good answer, I’ll find someone who does.
I'm in my sixties and have lived through a lot of skincare trends that claimed miraculous results only to be debunked 10 years later...I think the saying "too good to be true" is especially true with skincare. I have never seen a (celebrity) skincare spokesperson who doesn't look their age at 50 or 60. Aging is inevitable no matter what products claim. And finally, when you see a 50, 60 or 70 year old woman who has had "work" done are you ever fooled into thinking that she is 20 years younger than her age or, intstead do you think "wow, she had some good (or bad) work done"- I just think that skincare marketing uses all of our insecurities against us in very cynical ways.
I really wish people would change the narrative around fine lines/wrinkles. What's wrong with wrinkles? Sure a fine line might suggest you're aging, god forbid, over 25, but what's wrong with aging and living with wrinkles and gray hair? Why do the signs of aging send people to botox and colorists at an alarming rate? It is especially concerning that a 30 year old is fretting the potential of a fine line. But I get it, social media and Hollywood promote this culture. At that age I use to fret the gain of 1/2 a pound! But I'm older, wiser, and now I refuse to let that culture scare me into thinking that my wrinkles or not so flat stomach devalues my worth. The plastic-like faces I see everywhere only distract me as I can only think they look like every other botoxed face. Yes, take care of your skin, moisturize, protect it from the sun damage to prevent skin cancers, and darn it, lovingly embrace the opportunity to age beautifully with pride! Not shame. Thank you Valerie - I love your writing!