A story about subconscious blocks and a very short-lived dermaroller romance
I don’t go to cosmetologists. One day, though, I had a moment — “Well, age is creeping in… maybe it’s time to join the beauty cult?”
The cosmetologist immediately sensed a paying client and went straight for the bull by the horns…—or in my case, tried milking the situation instead. Pushing a list of expensive, unpronounceable procedures as if they were life-saving interventions.
Not convincing. At all.
At that time, I honestly believed I looked great. When I asked for recommendations, I naively expected a compliment or maybe a suggestion for a relaxing, preventative face massage.
But no one offered me a massage. Apparently, massages don’t bring enough profit anymore — too much effort, not enough revenue. Complex treatments with fancy names sell better and require less work.
Trying to make easy money, he accidentally hit me where it hurts. Behind all the sales pressure was one brutal implication:
“You’re old. Time to get injected.”
A punch below the belt.
My rational mind knew he was just a bad specialist. But my subconscious? It built a wall. Some people fear clowns — I now feared cosmetologists.
Time passed. I stopped thinking I looked “great.” Creams didn’t work. Supplements didn’t work. And returning to a cosmetologist felt like stepping into a psychological booby trap.
Then I discovered dermarollers.
The theory sounded so logical, almost seductive: micro-needles create micro-damage, the skin switches into repair mode, produces collagen and elastin, tightens, brightens, rejuvenates.
So I bought one.
Tried it. And hated every second. My subconscious screamed: “Stop torturing your skin — throw this spiky nonsense out!”. So I did.
Later, I found other natural rejuvenation methods. But doubt lingered for a long time:
“What if I gave up too soon? Maybe I didn’t stick with it long enough to feel that mythical ‘glow’? Maybe the discomfort was part of the process…?”
Everything changed the day I stumbled upon an Instagram post by a Russian beauty expert whose skin looked fantastic. Her message erased all my doubts:
“I’m firmly against needles in the skin — any needles. Botox, meso, biorevitalization, plasma… none of it.
Yet every time someone touches my face — during trainings or practice sessions — I get the same reaction: compliments, surprise, disbelief about my age.
Cosmetologists especially can’t hide it.
And when I say I don’t inject anything or chase RF, Thermage, threads, fillers, or endless meso/bio courses… their eyes go wide.
Why? Because I want my skin to stay smooth, fine-textured, elastic — not puffy or porous the way it often becomes after constant needle-based procedures.
My skin doesn’t need trauma to look alive.”
This was my turning point.
Her words matched exactly what my own face had been trying to tell me: just because something is marketed as “collagen-boosting” doesn’t mean your skin wants to be perforated into submission.
Conclusion
From that moment on, the doubts were gone. Dermarollers firmly joined my personal “never again” list — along with anything that traumatizes the skin for the sake of a promise.
Some faces may tolerate it. Mine won’t. And honestly? I’ve learned to trust it.
The original Russian version of this article was published on January 8, 2019.
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