I look at my photos from the zero years, and my eye twitches a little. We survived as best we could, honestly. Back then, it was believed that self-care was necessarily due to pain and suffering. If it doesn't burn, doesn't tighten, and doesn't tear, then it doesn't work, informs Ukr.Media.
I'm 38 now, with dark circles under my eyes from the news and absolutely zero tolerance for things that make my life difficult. Marketers are still trying to sell us the idea of a perfect face through some aggressive cosmetics, but let's be honest: half of what we've been using since our youth is simply time to throw away.
Hard scrubs with bones
That famous scrub with apricot pits, which was probably in every bathroom in the country. I remember rubbing it on my cheeks, hoping to erase unevenness, acne, and a few of my sins along the way. It seemed that the harder you scratched, the faster new, smooth skin would grow. In reality, we were simply torturing our faces with micro-scratches, where bacteria would happily settle. Now I take this tube exclusively to the shower – to tear off heels before the sandal season, that's where it belongs. And for my face, I switched to enzyme powders a long time ago. They dissolve everything superfluous gently, without the special effects of construction sandpaper.
Sinks “until they squeak”
Oh, this is my favorite. I washed myself with gel, dried myself with a towel — and you can't blink because the skin is tight on your skull. We sincerely believed that creaking under your fingers is the main sign of cleanliness. And the skin at this time simply screamed for help and began to hysterically produce even more sebum in order to somehow restore protection. Therefore, by lunchtime, my face was shiny like a pancake, although it was peeling on my nose. Now I only recognize soft foams. My face after them is normal. It doesn't creak, it doesn't tighten. Just the clean face of a living person.
Alcohol-based acne lotions
When I remember this smell, my eyes start to water. A pimple popped up — we take a cotton pad, generously pour lotion, which has more alcohol than in grandfather's tincture, and cauterize it. So that the smoke goes away. The pimple may have given up under such pressure, but a scorched desert formed around it, on which three more new inflammations popped up a day later. It took me years to understand one thing: salicylic acid works great without alcohol, and niacinamide generally heals without these sadistic inclinations.
Black mask-films for blackheads
Whoever didn't cry while peeling this rubbery mass off their nose, hasn't known life. Along with the mask, a small fluff, hope for the best, and the upper layer of the epidermis came off. And the blackheads? They mostly stayed in place, mockingly peeking out of the dilated pores. I've put an end to this masochism a long time ago. Regular hydrophilic oil does the same thing, only more gently. You apply it to a dry face, massage it meditatively for a few minutes (just enough time to think about your life), rinse with water, and then lather. Everything dissolves without tears or pulled hair.
Thick foundation creams-“plasters”
The early Instagram era traumatized us quite a bit. The face was supposed to look like a matte, artificial mask — not a single freckle, not a single pore. Once I found my old thick foundation in my stash, applied it out of curiosity — and instantly aged me by ten years. This plaster clogs up my expression lines, which I have enough of, and turns my face into a Tutankhamun mask. Damn it. A light BB cream (or a weightless mattifying fluid, if my skin is prone to oiliness) is my maximum. Yes, it shows that I am a living woman who sometimes doesn’t get enough sleep. If there is a bruise or redness somewhere, I just dot it with concealer and run about.
Liquid matte lipsticks that dry out your lips
They held on dead. You could eat borscht, drink coffee, kiss in the rain – the color remained on your lips. But by the evening your lips would turn into wrinkled raisins, and you could only wash this cement off with a metal sponge. I don't want to prove anything to anyone at such a cost anymore. Tinted balms, ordinary cream lipsticks that are eaten up in two hours, or modern matte lipsticks that have finally figured out how to add moisturizing oils – so be it. But your lips don't crack when you try to smile.
We somehow imperceptibly grew out of the age when beauty demanded sacrifice. Now I want my bathroom to be a comfort zone, not a branch of the Inquisition. We have enough nerves every day, so at least let the cream just do its job without mocking my face. I'll probably go throw out the matte lipstick that's been in the drawer since 2018. And I advise you to clean out the shelves a little – I guarantee it will make it easier to breathe.
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Have you already thrown away your cosmetic “inquisition” or do you still miss the feeling of squeaky clean?
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