v.36 No One Needs to Know This, But I’ll Tell You Anyway: Skincare Edition (Yes, seriously.)
Welcome to Life, Created—a new [old school] blog for modern times. This twice-a-week(ish) dispatch is a space for us to dig deeper, share ideas, recognize microjoys and build community beyond the mindless scroll.
Today’s essay might seem unexpected, but if you know me, you already know skincare is my thing—and has been for a long time. I take it just as seriously as the rest of my wellbeing. (Actually… probably more so.) I don’t usually write about it, but we all have a face, and most of us are doing our best to care for it as it changes. So let’s get into it, shall we?
And just to be clear, this isn’t advice. It’s simply what I do. Do with that what you will.
Let’s start with the obvious: Melanin does what melanin does. (Black folks generally don’t wrinkle much. That’s not good or bad, it's just biology.) But that doesn’t mean I leave my skincare up to genetics alone—I take care of my skin because it’s one of the ways I take care of myself.
My love of skincare started when I was 17. Back then, mama Shelley would order Philosophy products for me from QVC. I could only afford them on easy-pay, which was basically layaway, so I’d give her $9 a month from my GapKids paycheck to cover my $45 face cream. True story. I told you—I don’t play when it comes to skincare.
SKINCARE BASICS:
I’m 47 years old, and these days, skincare is a full-on ritual. I use serum, eye cream, and face cream twice a day, every day. No skipping. No skimping. I exfoliate with daily pads about three times a week because, yes, regular exfoliation actually makes a difference in skin texture. A few nights a week, I use prescription Tretinoin-A. It works, it’s $40 with insurance, and one tube lasts for months. A solid investment.
The first time I tried Tretinoin, I was 31. My dermatologist swore by it. But it was $300 a tube back then, and insurance didn’t cover any of it. My 31-year-old skin might’ve been able to use it, but my 31-year-old budget said absolutely not. I bought one tube, used it a few times, and never touched it again. Fast forward to two years ago when I discovered that it was much more affordable—and this time, I stuck with it.
SUNSCREEN:
I believe in sunscreen the way some people believe in morning affirmations. I apply it daily, multiple times a day—except in the winter, when I get a little lax. I’m not proud of it. It’s still necessary. But when the sun’s not in my face, it’s kind of an out-of-sight, out-of-mind situation.
ON WASHING:
I don’t wash my face every night (don’t come for me—I barely wear makeup most days), but I always remove my eye makeup before bed. Mostly because I hate seeing it on my pillowcase in the morning.
FACIALS:
I get facials every other month. This isn’t a splurge or a luxury—it’s maintenance. Truthfully, I spend the money I might’ve spent on kids (if we’d had them) on facials. So… it all balances out.
MAKEUP:
Makeup-wise, it’s minimal. I don’t wear foundation because I don’t like how it feels on my skin. Most days, it’s a light bronzer (bareMinerals Warmth forever), highlighter, blush, and mascara. If I’m going out-out or if I’m on camera, I’ll add concealer and a bold lip in hot pink or red. That’s it.
BOTOX:
And then there’s Botox. Let’s talk about it without whispering. I know grown folks who get Botox and won’t tell their partners or their other friends—like it’s some kind of top-secret government mission. Come on, y’all. It’s just skincare with a syringe.
I’ve gotten Botox here and there since I was maybe 41. I’m not consistent with it, and I don’t consider it a necessity. Most of my skincare is non-negotiable. Botox is optional.
My face shape changed, especially after 43—a season that came with a lot (and I mean a lot) of grief and emotional weight, and it showed up physically. My symmetry shifted, gravity did what it does, and my features softened. I started to feel a little... mushy. (Apparently there’s a term for this: “grief face.” For me, it was that plus time and aging.)
That’s where Botox came in, and it helped so much. Not to freeze anything, but to help me look more awake and more balanced. My forehead still moves, my expressions are all there—just with a bit of a lift, thanks to strategic placement.
Truthfully, I’d get it more often if I could afford to. But at over $1,000 a session, I stick to once, maybe twice a year. (See: childcare budget that never had to exist.)
Also yes, Black and Brown women get Botox. We just don’t always talk about it. I once asked my dermatologist in Brooklyn, a Black woman, “Do we do this?” She said, “Of course. We just tend to start later than white women.” So, there you go.
Make no mistake: no one needs Botox. It’s simply a choice. I’m not here to explain or defend anything I choose to do for myself. Nor am I recommending that you do the same. My skincare routine isn’t (only) about vanity—it’s also about reverence. For my face, my wellbeing, and the routines that keep me grounded.
NOT YET BUT I WANT TO:
One thing I haven’t tried (but definitely want to) is a red light therapy mask. The good ones aren’t cheap, and I just haven’t prioritized it. Yet. It’s on the list. *If you’re a brand or company that makes one, send me a note.*
Whew—okay, I think that’s everything!
Look, if I’ve learned anything, it’s this: how we care for ourselves gets to evolve, just like we do. It doesn’t have to be loud or explained or approved. It just has to feel true to you—skincare routines and all.
PSA:
You’re a grown person. You get to do whatever feels right for your face, your body, and your life. Skincare, Botox, no Botox, drugstore moisturizer, fancy lasers, or absolutely none of it—whatever works for you is what works.
But (and), if you’ve got questions about skincare or want the real rundown on what I use, drop them in the comments. I’m happy to share what I know and write a follow-up if there’s interest.
My first day training outfit. Pink, obviously.
This week’s microjoy: Ira and I are training for a 5K together. In a former life—long before there was an “us”—I slowly ran a full marathon (2010), and he quickly ran a half (2015). And then… we never ran again. But here we are, 10+ years later, starting over as newbie runners. It’s humbling in all the ways I expected, and still, I’m proud of us. There’s something powerful about showing up with beginner energy, even when your body remembers the miles. This slow, steady comeback feels good. Stay tuned.
P.S. Per usual, if this resonated with you- PLEASE repost, comment, share and spread the word.
Welcome to Life, Created.
With love, wisdom [and small mercies] from Montclair. xx
