I fell down the rabbit hole of YouTube Shorts one slow afternoon. It ended up with me buying a new body set that came with a body wash, lotion, and serum. Ohhh! Serum. That's fancy. I need it. Fine. I want it. Even though my skin looked fine, for some reason I decided it needed to be more than fine and this new set would help me do just that. But wait! You also need a brush — not too harsh but stiff enough to stimulate and penetrate and eradicate and… something else. Doesn't matter, I need it.
Got the stuff and was excited to start this new amazing routine which would reward me with amazing skin — which, according to my husband, I already had. But what does he know, right? Shh. Let me do my thing.
Two days before my birthday, I woke up feeling fine — until I saw myself in the mirror. I reacted like any mature woman in her 40s would: a moment of panic, followed by a "what the hell did I do to myself" conversation with my reflection, and then logical thinking kicked in. The night before had been the inaugural brush and serum party and it was, clearly, not a hit. My whole abdomen, up to my chest, arms, back, and yes — the tush — was covered in red patches of very angry looking skin. I've had skin issues before, my skin is a sensitive diva, but never like this. The good news was that it wasn't itchy. It just looked really bad. My husband's face when he said "it looks… like a rash" told me everything I needed to know.
It was a Wednesday. We'll keep an eye on it and see what it looks like tomorrow.
It did not look better tomorrow. More red, more angry, still no itchiness. Okay, now I was a bit nervous — and had completely forgotten about my birthday. Who cares. Yay, I'm forty-something.
But I already knew I was going straight online to find a virtual dermatologist — and I did. Sent photos and my life story, got a diagnosis and a prescription a few hours later. Contact dermatitis and a steroid cream.
I was genuinely disappointed in myself. Upset that I had done this to my body, to my skin — which was fine. Now I had to deal with this.
Fast forward to the following week — skin still looked pretty bad. I hadn't been using the steroid cream every day because of a scary thing I had read about steroid creams, which meant it hadn't really done its job. Turns out you're supposed to use it twice a day for at least four or five days for it to work. Damn.
The in-person dermatologist visit was great. Same diagnosis, better instructions for the cream, plus an antihistamine to calm down my overreacting immune system. Come back in two weeks, said the nice lady dermatologist. I went home hopeful but still annoyed at myself.
I had actually brought the serum with me to the appointment. She made a face when she read the ingredients. Just a face. That said everything. I went home and threw away the serum, the brush, the lotion, and the wash. Never to be seen again.
But something good came out of it. As the rash made its way to "not my body anymore" territory, I left that office with some samples and a much better understanding of my skin. Somehow, even though I always knew my skin was sensitive, it had never occurred to me to look for fragrance-free products. No fragrance in my body lotion, soap, shampoo — nothing. I found a simple, clean brand I won't mention unless you ask, because I don't want to sound like I'm advertising. But the difference was immediate. I replaced everything and my skin has never felt better — calm, natural, soft.
It's been a few weeks now. The rash is gone, banished, sent packing. The skin is still recovering though — it can take weeks to fully rebuild your skin barrier after you've damaged it while trying to make it better.
Happy birthday to me.