For a while, my bathroom cabinet looked like a mini beauty lab.
I had three different types of facial cleansers.
One was for gentle cleansing.
One was for deep cleansing.
And there was another one—I’ve forgotten exactly what it was for, but the packaging was so pretty that I kept it around.
On top of that, there were toners, serums, moisturizers, eye creams, face masks, exfoliators, and a few bottles of stuff with names that sounded like scientific research projects.
Every night, I’d stand in front of the sink, wondering in what order I should use these products.
This didn’t feel like skincare anymore.
It felt more like organizing a massive, complex conference.
Of course, there were reasons why I bought these things in the first place.
Some were based on recommendations from friends.
Some were because I read articles.
Some were because the women in the videos had skin that looked as if it were bathed in the soft glow of a lamp that never goes out.
I’d listen intently as she explained how each product transformed the skin.
Then I’d look down at my own face.
It had been through a day of work, air conditioning, stress, and coffee.
Clearly, it didn’t have the same kind of lighting as in the photos.
So I’d place an order.
Every time I receive a new skincare product, I’m filled with hope.
Maybe this one will fix my dull complexion.
That one might improve my dryness.
Another one is a bit pricey, but someone in the reviews said it made them “look like a whole new person” after using it.
I don’t really want a whole new face.
But on certain exhausting nights, that idea still sounds pretty appealing.
The problem is, even though I’m using more and more products, my skin hasn’t become any calmer as a result.
Sometimes, I use too many products in a single night.
The next day, my cheeks are red, so I buy yet another product that claims to soothe redness.
This has created a very efficient commercial cycle.
First, I use a product to create a problem, then I buy another product to solve it.
Finally, one night, I was just too tired.
I didn’t have the energy to go through my entire routine.
I simply washed my face, applied some moisturizer, and went to sleep.
The next morning, standing in front of the mirror, I realized the world hadn’t ended.
My skin didn’t stage a formal protest just because I’d skipped a few bottles of serum.
It looked perfectly normal.
It was even a little calmer than it had been the days before.
Since then, I’ve started simplifying my routine.
It’s not that I’ve suddenly turned against skincare.
I still love having clean, soft skin, and I still enjoy the feeling of slowly applying moisturizer after washing my face.
It’s just that I no longer believe every pore needs its own specialized solution.
I’ve kept the essential products that truly work for me.
I apply sunscreen during the day.
I cleanse thoroughly at night.
I boost hydration when my skin feels dry.
When persistent issues arise, instead of guessing by constantly layering on new products, I seek professional advice.
Most importantly, I’ve stopped treating my face like a construction project waiting to be transformed every single day.
Interestingly, now that my skincare routine has been simplified, I’m actually more willing to stick with it.
Simple doesn’t mean half-hearted.
It just means that this routine can truly be a part of my everyday life.
On nights when I’m exhausted, it doesn’t make me stare at my bathroom cabinet and feel like running away.
On busy mornings, it doesn’t require me to wake up 40 minutes early.
I still buy a new product every now and then.
Beautiful packaging still catches my eye.
And I won’t pretend I’m completely immune to beauty ads.
But now, before placing an order, I ask myself:
Do I really need this, or am I just looking to buy the feeling that “tomorrow will be better” on some exhausting night?
My skincare cabinet finally has a little extra space.
And my face seems to have breathed a sigh of relief.
Sometimes, it doesn’t need more products.
It just needs me to stop constantly scrutinizing it for problems.
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