The pump clicked 47 times before the first drop of viscous, amber liquid finally escaped the glass neck and pooled in my palm. It was cold. That was the first thing I noticed. The second was the way the overhead fluorescent light in the bathroom seemed to sharpen every line on my face, turning my reflection into a topographical map of every stressor I’d encountered over the last 17 months. I stood there, patting the serum into my cheekbones with a mechanical precision that felt less like self-care and more like a religious rite. This was night 107 of the exact same sequence. Cleanse, tone, treat, moisturize, wait.
We are taught from birth that consistency is the bedrock of success. If you show up every day, if you put in the reps, if you apply the cream, you will eventually reach the promised land of ‘better.’ But there is a point

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