I Used a Dermatologist-Recommended Anti-Wrinkle Cream on My Crow’s Feet and Almost Quit Too Soon
I stared at my reflection in the unforgiving morning light of my bathroom, leaning in so close my breath fogged the mirror. I traced the fine lines fanning out from the corners of my eyes—my crow’s feet. They weren’t new, but lately, they seemed to have settled in with a new kind of permanence, etching themselves deeper with every smile. I’d done everything right, or so I thought. I’d been a sunscreen devotee since my twenties, a religious moisturizer, and followed my skincare routine with the discipline of a monk. Yet here I was, at 46, and those lines felt like a personal betrayal, a receipt for a lifetime of laughter that had finally come due. So, I did what any diligent person would do. I went to a dermatologist. I left her office with a sample of a recommended anti-wrinkle cream, feeling a surge of hope. This was the expert-approved solution. I followed the instructions to the letter: a pea-sized amount, gentle pats around the orbital bone, every single night. For ...
