
I'm a skin toner kinda guy now
While the rest of the world is learning how to write better ChatGPT prompts, I, a 42-year-old-man, am apprenticing in the language of toiletries.
To everyone who joined this newsletter this week, I am happy you are here. You may have come for my writing, but you will stay for this community. Just wait until our next community meet-up to know what I mean.
And now, I bring you a peek into how I've been using capitalism to distract myself through my burnout. Share this story with anyone you think will feel seen by it.
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The ageing body is a bizarre marvel. You discover skin tags hanging from weird places. Your ears start growing hair, the hair on your head thins, and your gut thickens. You get acne on the exact same spot above your right eyebrow every three weeks. Your face is oily, your legs are dry, and while this discrepancy never bothered you before, now it really annoys you because it means investing time in two different skincare routines.
The more time you spend slathering stuff on your body, the higher the chances that you'd discover more disgusting things. A new colony of dandruff. Flab the shape of last night's lamb chops. A patch of skin so rough that you could scrub the clogged pores on your nose with it, except of course you cannot twist your body into that position anymore.
Face wash, moisturiser, sunscreen, hand cream, face serum, hair regrowth serum, lip balm, callus softener. "Niacinamide", "hyaluronic acid", "SPF 50", "sulphate-free", "no parabens", "shea butter but ethically sourced", "mild exfoliant". While the rest of the world is learning how to write better ChatGPT prompts, I, a 42-year-old man, am apprenticing in the language of toiletries.
And can I say this to you without even the pretence of embarrassment? I have decided that if I really have to drown, I'd rather drown in tea tree oil, arugula, and jojoba than the terror and despair allegedly concocted by the chemicals in my brain.
Move over, serotonin. I guess I'm a skin toner kinda guy now, though I don't really know what a skin toner does. I just read somewhere that it ought to be part of everyone's "intimate rejuvenation ritual", plus there was a good discount online.
It's been a few months since I plunged headlong into the world of men's skincare products. I cannot wait for one tube to be over so I can try the new brand with the peach packaging I saw on Shark Tank. Even when a lotion does perfectly competently what I bought it for, I never give it another chance. I am proudly disloyal to brands, and I am loving these one-pack stands. Selling out to the self-care industry when the world is on fire makes you feel dirty anyway. Why be shy?
"Maybe it gives you a feeling of control," my therapist said. "Maybe switching all these products makes you believe here's finally something you can actively choose, when little in life gives you that comfort."
I didn't take the conversation further. I mean I love analysis, but what I really want right now is simple unboxing ASMR.
