Swift: Skin-care products can be serious business

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The changes are no longer subtle.

The charming little smile lines have morphed into wrap-around crow’s feet.

The creases from my nose to the corner of my mouth – the weirdly named “nasolabial folds” – have taken on a Grinch-like prominence. And the worry lines between my brows have deepened into a permanent pyramid of disapproval.

When did this happen? At what point did I become Marianne Faithfull? I don’t smoke, I don’t tan, and I actually come from a line of dermally gifted women.

My mother has plump, beautiful skin – and she washed her face with Dial soap for 40 years.

I used to think I would follow in her youthsteps. I clucked disapprovingly when hearing of people who resorted to Botox injections to look younger. I sneered at all the commercials in which a carefully lit Andie MacDowell shilled wrinkle cream. I even called plastic surgery-devotee Cher an android – many, many times.

We should embrace our age, I told myself. We should simply learn to grow old gracefully. We should eat healthy food and swim 40 laps every day and wear our hair in an artfully messy updo like Katharine Hepburn.

But then I turned 40. And then 44. And one late night, while peering at the full-blown lines creasing my brow into accordion pleats, I realized something. I’m no Katharine Hepburn. I don’t have her bone structure. I don’t have her confidence. And I hate looking old.

And so began the desperate campaign to outfox Father Time. I transitioned from product labels that read, “Light, non-greasy, all-over moisturizer,” to ones that read, “Reparative, youth-activating formula that will fill most deep gullies and hopefully make you look less like Burgess Meredith.”

The skin products for the over-40 crowd were not only pricier, they also sounded much more serious. These creams didn’t smell like tangerines or come in brightly colored bottles. They were packaged like plutonium and included medical-sounding terms such as “clinically proven youth-activating serum,” “dermatologically approved collagen intensifier” and “emergency regenerative micro-lift.”

Some sounded more like building materials. I became accustomed to terms such as “fixative,” and “fibrolastine” and “restructuring cream.” All seemed to imply my face was a veritable Roman Coliseum, just minutes away from crumbling into a fine dust.

I even fell for the products that brazenly rode on the soft, unlined heels of higher-end, professionally dispensed products like Botox. My bathroom cupboard was filled with dubious creams with names like Botofirmation, Restylania and Retinol J.

But after a couple of years of faithful use of these products, I noticed something. Nothing really seemed to make much difference.

Forget it.

From now on I’m shopping at Ace Hardware.

I wonder where they put the Forehead Spackle?

Readers can reach Forum reporter Tammy Swift at (701) 241-5525 or tswift@forumcomm.com

Tags: skin care, tammy swift, moms, health, columns, life