Thanks to my parents (especially Dad), I have "good skin" genes. I'm glad but it's nothing to be proud of. It's not like I earned this skin...
The Good Skin Years:
For many, many years, I took my "good skin" for granted. As a young person, I never struggled with acne. I never had to worry about dry skin or oily skin. I grew up in Alaska, Land of the Midnight (or almost-never-ending) Sun. Never wore a drop of sunscreen for maybe 10 of the 40 years I lived there.
When I did start thinking about skincare, I used sunscreen, avoided soaps, used a lot of oils, and still took my skin for granted. Then I turned 56. Oh boy.
The Warning Signs:
The first very fine lines started across my forehead. I always had smile lines because I smile a lot and because of my wide mouth. But the smile lines became more prominent. And I started to get these little dark spots on my face - just like the ones my father had.
Those dark spots freaked me out. I had noticed (but not paid much attention to) the ones Daddy had on his face. I think he was also in his 50s when I first noticed his spots. Now that I was developing them, I wondered if I should be worried. I found out that the spots are called Seborrheic keratosis and they tend to run in families. Like "good skin", I guess. Gee, thanks again, Dad! LOL
So, at around 55-56, I started to think more about skincare. I noticed every little thing about the skin on my face and my body. The dark spots - which are only on my face - are the one thing I can't afford to do anything about and I'm not that bothered by them anyway. And I'd like to think that I'm not particularly vain so I don't mind the fine lines and wrinkles. I think of them as "proof-of-life lines". But I don't want to deal with preventable issues - cancer or severe non-cancerous skin problems.
Anyway...
This is 61 with a freshly washed face and freshly washed and twisted hair. No makeup. But don't zoom too far in.
The New Attitude:
I started taking my skincare more seriously about 5 or 6 years ago. As in, not just routinely and mindlessly slapping on oils and moisturizers to keep away the dryness. I stopped buying just any old sunscreen. Basically, I stopped being slapdash with my skincare.
At 60, I actually started developing a skincare routine. I began to think more about products. Morning and night, I clean my face with oils and (non-soap) cleansers; I use good quality (broad-spectrum) sunscreens; and I use a toner, base moisturizer, and a sealing moisturizer. For my all-over body care, I still use the moisturizing washes I've always liked but I've started being more diligent about applying after-shower oil and I've started buying better moisturizers. I pay more attention to ingredients than hype and I will actually (though grudgingly) pay more for better quality products. If I have to.
All this really started making a difference - within a few weeks. My skin is now less dull and always feels super-hydrated -without my having to reapply moisturizers and lotions several times a day. I have far fewer blackhead problems. By the way, that situation was getting out of control! For a while there, I was having to tweeze away blackheads like it was a paying job.
Another benefit to getting a routine down is that I spend less money. (Well, I'm getting there.) I did have to go through a few products to find which ones worked better for my skin type. Thankfully, I have found that some really good products are quite budget-friendly.
The two products I'm willing to spend a few bucks more for (if needed) are sunscreen and a night moisturizer. Instead of buying every new product that comes out, I am down to a few good items that work well. Spending more on 4 products every 3 months is much cheaper than spending a few bucks on several things every 3 weeks. (Pro Tip: curb your product junkie cravings! If you just have to, have to, have to try something new, write the brand to ask for a sample.)
I am sure that quitting smoking (4+ years now) helped. The funny thing is, this routine is less time-consuming than what I was doing before. In the past, I would use oil and baby wipes to clean my face, then use another oil to moisturize. Then, all through the day, I was reapplying oil to my face and more lotion to my skin. That was because of not layering and locking in hydration. Also, some products just aren't that good or long-lasting. Also, I was sometimes just skipping the moisturizing altogether.
New Routine:
Nowadays, first thing in the morning, since I'm in the bathroom doing morning stuff anyway, I cleanse my face and then, while I'm having coffee and watching the news, I do my sunscreen and moisturizers. That takes maybe 5 minutes. My body care takes only 10 minutes after showering. What a difference 15 or 20 minutes of consistent skincare makes. And consistency seems to be the key.
Goals?:
Just as with anything, it's not about how you look so much as about how you feel. I will be very happy to live long enough to develop more wrinkles, trust me. I'd like for those wrinkles to be hydrated and lovely but I want them!
I don't want to have "young-looking" skin, but I want healthy skin. As a matter of fact, as pithy as it sounds, I don't think we should worry about looking attractive. We should worry about being attractive. I want to always be gracious and kind and uplifting. (I said I want to be, not that I always am!)
When I die, I want people to miss how I made them feel. I want to be remembered for things that really mean something.
Get It From Mama:
My mother had beautiful skin and absolutely glorious hair. When she got sick, her skin and hair were severely damaged by medications. She never stopped smiling and feeling blessed to be alive. When people talk about my mom now, they talk about how she was a "mom" to everyone. I have former co-workers who probably remember more about my mother than they do about me. Everyone we knew called my mother "Mom", "Mama C" or "Grammy". There were friends of the grandkids who only knew her as "Grammy". For real. Some of them did not know her actual name until they saw her obituary...
Mama has been gone for 22 years now and almost everyone who knew her still misses her. They miss knowing that they could always talk to her about anything. They miss knowing that no matter when they came into her home, they were going to be fed, loved, taught something, hugged, encouraged, and prayed for.
During Mama's funeral, a group of 6 or 7 people filed in several minutes into the service. They only stayed for about 10 minutes, then they all filed quietly back out. This happened again during the reading of the obituary. Later, checking the memorial book, we realized that it was some nurses and staff from the dialysis clinic. They had been given longer breaks in small groups to come and pay their respects. Her one-time doctor who had retired and moved out of state some years before sent a beautiful floral arrangement. For the longest time, we would receive condolences in the mail from young people who were late hearing about her passing because they had moved away for college, marriage, or gone into the military. My mother was that kind of beautiful.
To Be Well- Remembered:
I keep in sporadic touch with friends back in Alaska. Catching up online a couple of months or so ago with "Missy" (a woman I worked with back when dinosaurs roamed and I was in my late 20s), she sent through a recent photo of her son "Lee". He was just a kid it seemed the last time I saw him. Over the years, I've seen photos of him graduating from school, starting his first "real" job, getting engaged, etc. He's now got 2 kids of his own. Missy (who'd been a young and single mom and just turning 20) reminded me that it was my mother who taught her how to soothe Lee when he was non-stop fussy.
At the time, Missy was over for one of our barbeques or something but she was so frustrated because she couldn't figure out what was wrong with her baby. I barely noticed because there were (as usual) so many kids making noise out in the backyard. Missy and I can now laugh so hard about how Mama had come inside, put down the tray of chicken (or whatever) she'd taken off the grill, shook her head, and took the baby from Missy. She laid Lee on the couch and started cooing to him while she gently rocked his knees up toward his chin a couple of times. All of a sudden, that kid pooted out a long and loud trumpet note. He went from fussy to laughing just like that. ("Sweet baby just had a little gas, didn't you.")
What I didn't know until this recent conversation is that my mom had apparently once talked Missy through a really bad bout of postpartum blues. So my friends were calling my mom on the phone back then? Wow.
So, yeah, I love having good skin, I'm a little vain about my hair, and I miss the crap out of my size 4 (5, 6, 8, and 10) figure! But who cares what I will look like when I'm dead? I want people to remember the stuff that matters.
Age thankfully. Be grateful. Love.
Peace
--Free
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