I’ll never forget the day I looked in the bathroom mirror and saw a face that resembled mine, except that it looked ten years older, staring back at me. And no, it wasn’t the cloudy, moth-eaten Lululemon sweater I only ever took off on laundry day, bad lighting, months-long fatigue or even my emotions playing tricks with my eyes. This was real. So much so that not even Kylie or Rihanna could help me, despite being the Holy Grails of Millennial beauty. Biologically I was still be the same age, but my skin? An extra decade’s worth of fine lines, crow’s feet, dark under eye circles and cheek sag had all but literally wiped out my formerly tight, collagen-plump and rosy glow.