«"For years, my relationship with the mirror was a battle. Every morning, my first move was to check if the fine line between my eyebrows had deepened or if the 'tired' look had permanently settled on my face. I spent a fortune on creams that promised 'miracles' and treatments that aimed to freeze time.
Until one day, my daughter, who was five and a half years old at the time, approached me while I was applying makeup. She touched the outer corner of my eyes, where the laugh lines form, with her little hand. “Mom, I like these drawings on your face, they show that you laugh a lot”, he told me with the disarming honesty of a child.
At that moment, something inside me broke and reassembled differently. I realized that these “paintings” were the map of my life. The lines in my eyes were from the summers I laughed until I cried with my friends. The line on my forehead was from the nights I stayed up all night over my books or from the anguish for the people I love.
Beauty is not the absence of scars, but the story they tell. Today, at 45, I continue to take care of my skin. Not to hide who I am, but to honor the home of my soul. Now, my skincare is not a “weapon” against time, but an act of gratitude.
"This is my story. And it's beautiful, because it's true."»
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