I wish I knew I should have started using Tretinoin when I was 20, not 30.
The Decade of Prevention I Can’t Get Back
When I turned 30, I finally got serious about skincare and my dermatologist prescribed me Tretinoin. Within a year, my skin was transformed. But my biggest feeling wasn’t happiness; it was regret. I look at photos of myself at 20 and realize I could have had this flawless skin for the entire decade. More importantly, Tretinoin is a powerful preventative. I wish I had known that every single day I used it in my twenties would have been an investment in preventing the fine lines I’m now trying to treat in my thirties.
I wish I knew I should have started taking Finasteride the moment I noticed my hairline receding.
The Battle is Easier When You Defend, Not Reclaim
At 24, I noticed my hairline was starting to thin at the temples. I ignored it, hoping it would stop. By 28, the loss was undeniable, and I finally started taking Finasteride. The drug worked—it stopped the loss and even brought some hair back. But I can’t help but think about the ground I lost during those four years of inaction. I wish I had known that the moment you notice the first soldier falling is the moment to start the fight. It’s infinitely easier to defend the hair you have than to try and reclaim the territory you’ve already lost.
I wish I knew how effective CO2 laser resurfacing was for acne scars before I spent years trying creams.
The Polishing vs. the Repaving
I spent my early twenties trying to fix my acne scars with a graveyard of expensive creams and serums. I was meticulously trying to polish a road full of potholes. The surface got a little shinier, but the dents remained. It wasn’t until I was 28 that I finally had a CO2 laser treatment. The downtime was intense, but the result was breathtaking. The laser didn’t just polish the road; it completely repaved it from the foundation up. I wish I had known I could have had a smooth road a decade earlier.
I wish I knew that a hair transplant was a permanent solution, not a “pluggy” nightmare, when I was in my 20s.
The Outdated Stigma
In my twenties, my image of a hair transplant was the unnatural “doll’s hair” plugs from the 90s. So as my hairline receded, I never even considered it an option. I spent years feeling helpless. I wish I had known that modern FUE (Follicular Unit Extraction) techniques are an art form, creating dense, natural, and completely undetectable results. I finally got one at 32, and it changed my life. I look back and regret all the years I let an outdated stigma keep me from a permanent, confidence-boosting solution.
I wish I knew how important daily, high-SPF sunscreen was when I was a teenager.
The Invisible Damage
As a teenager, I only wore sunscreen on beach days. The rest of the time, I thought I was invincible. I couldn’t see the sun damage happening. Now, in my early thirties, I can see it. It’s the fine lines, the subtle sunspots, the loss of elasticity. I wish I could go back and tell my 16-year-old self that every single day of unprotected sun exposure is like taking out a tiny, high-interest loan on your future skin. The bill always comes due, and the interest is brutal.
I wish I knew that getting every mole removed was an aesthetic option when I was starting to get self-conscious.
The Blemishes I Thought Were Permanent
I had a number of raised moles on my face and torso that I absolutely hated. I thought they were just permanent blemishes I had to live with, like freckles. I would try to cover them with makeup, feeling self-conscious. I wish I had known when I was 19 that a dermatologist can remove any mole, for any reason, in a simple 10-minute procedure. The idea that I could have had clear, smooth skin and saved myself years of insecurity by just making an appointment is a frustrating thought.
I wish I knew that laser hair removal would save me so much time and effort when I first started shaving.
The Lifetime of a Chore
I started shaving when I was 14. I think about the sheer amount of time I’ve spent on that chore over the last 15 years—the daily shaving, the cuts, the razor burn, not to mention the money spent on razors and cream. It’s hundreds of hours and thousands of dollars. I wish I had known about laser hair removal then. The upfront cost would have seemed high to my teenage self, but knowing I could have made a one-time investment to be free of that chore for my entire adult life is staggering.
I wish I knew that scalp micropigmentation could create a perfect hairline when I was using fibers to fill in thinning spots.
The Fear of Rain
For a couple of years, my secret weapon for my thinning hairline was a can of hair fibers. It worked pretty well, but I lived in a state of constant, low-level fear. What if I got caught in the rain? What if someone touched my head? It was a fragile, temporary illusion. I wish I had known about Scalp Micropigmentation (SMP) then. An artist could have tattooed a perfect, permanent, and hyper-realistic hairline for me. I could have had that worry-free confidence years earlier instead of living in fear of the weather.
I wish I knew about deep chemical peels when I was struggling with skin texture in my early 20s.
The Frustration of “Bumpy” Skin
In my early twenties, I had persistent, bumpy skin texture that no amount of scrubbing could fix. It wasn’t acne, just a roughness that made my skin look dull. I felt so frustrated. I wish I had known that a medium-depth chemical peel, like a TCA peel, could have solved the problem in a single treatment. The idea that a dermatologist could have just chemically “lifted off” that entire layer of textural issues, revealing smooth new skin underneath, would have been life-changing. I was trying to sand it down when I could have just resurfaced it.
I wish I knew that my “oily skin” just needed proper chemical exfoliation and not harsh cleansers when I was starting out with skincare.
The Vicious Cycle
As a teenager with oily skin, I thought the answer was to strip away every last bit of oil with the harshest, scrubbiest cleansers I could find. My skin would feel “squeaky clean” for an hour, and then the oil would come back with a vengeance. I was trapped in a vicious cycle. I wish I had known that the solution wasn’t stripping the oil, but controlling it. A simple chemical exfoliant with salicylic acid would have gently cleared my pores and regulated oil production. I was fighting a war when I just needed a smart diplomat.