Six months ago I farewelled my twenties and welcomed my thirties.
I was warned by many that the moment you roll over that hill into your thirties, everything changes (like perspectives, priorities, and the age bracket I tick on forms!) – and boy, did I feel that shift.
I swear I went to bed in my twenties and woke up in a new decade where my skin was also more temperamental than my 4-year-old running on zero sleep and hyped up on sugar.
However, this “sudden” shift in my skin was definitely more mental.
The reality was I woke up one day and tuned into focus on how my skin looked and felt, realising how much of it was a result of how I treated my body and skin throughout the last 10 years of my life.
I was fortunate to have avoided acne during my teenage years.
I walked into puberty terrified of acne thanks to the stigma that surrounds it (like being a teenager isn’t brutal enough, let’s also navigate something else out of my control thanks to a hormonal change), but what I missed out on during my adolescence hit me tenfold when I reached my twenties.
My adult acne was a combination of a poor skincare regime, accentuated by a combination of things that had I not been too lazy to action would’ve made a world of difference.