Linda isn't the type to give up easily. She's a retired school principal — organized, methodical, determined.
Over the next several months, she went on what she calls her "skincare crusade."
First came the drugstore creams. Olay. Neutrogena. RoC. L'Oréal. "I had a whole shelf of them," she said. "They moisturized fine, but my wrinkles? Still there. Maybe even deeper."
Then she went upscale. Estée Lauder. Lancôme. Even splurged on La Mer after a particularly aggressive Nordstrom saleswoman convinced her it was "liquid gold."
"$380 for a jar," Linda laughed bitterly. "You know what it did? Made my skin soft. That's it. $380 for soft skin and the exact same wrinkles."
Next, she tried retinol. Everyone said it was the gold standard. Her dermatologist agreed.
"It was a nightmare," she said, her voice dropping. "My face turned bright red. Peeling everywhere. I looked like I had a sunburn for weeks. And my skin was already so dry from menopause — the retinol made it worse. I finally gave up after four months."
Her doctor suggested Botox. "Just a little, for the forehead lines."
Linda considered it seriously. But something held her back.
"I didn't want to freeze my face," she explained. "I didn't want to look different. I just wanted to look like me again. The real me. Not some paralyzed version of myself."
By her 58th birthday, Linda had spent over $2,400 on skincare products that sat in her bathroom cabinet, half-used and disappointing. She'd accepted that maybe this was just... it. Maybe this was just what 58 looked like.