How a red light mask helps me heal more than just my skin

“You can always tell a woman’s age by her neck and hands.”

This is the first cautionary tale of beauty I remember sharing with my mother. I must have been a pre-teen. Oddly enough, her fear didn’t mention anything about wearing it Sun protection factor (SPF) daily or Wide-brimmed hats — Of course not, that was in Mississippi in the 1990s — but it was limited to lotions, oils and cold creams. Such doses were supposed to be applied often and abundantly; I must have been the only 15-year-old girl in America who slathered herself with Neutrogena Body Oil after every shower.

As a Southern woman born in the late 1950s, as well as the granddaughter of Lebanese immigrants (who took their skincare regimens as seriously as rolled up grape leaves), my mother always equated beauty with accessibility.

She was an olive-skinned brunette, coming of age in the world of Christie Brinkley beauties. Mahogany-haired bombshells like Sophia Loren, Isabella Rossellini, and Miss America Mississippi Mary Ann Mobley became mom’s beauty role models. I thought Joe Cocker’s “You’re So Beautiful” was the most romantic song in the world. She never left the house without applying lipstick. The pursuit of beauty was the Roman Empire my mother lived in. Ironically, though, it was rarely her priority.

Anyone who knew her would agree that my mother was a stunning beauty. Naturally effervescent, with electric coffee-colored eyes, a wide white smile, and of course, skin as soft as suede. But once she had children, and eventually a large number of grandchildren, my mother never spent money on herself. While she still puts a lot of effort into crafting her look, when it comes to indulging, she instead spends on gifts and plane tickets to visit my brother and I, who moved away from Mississippi.

My mother’s obsession with beauty affected me like chalk on jeans. My Lebanese aunts, with their coiffed hairstyles, gauzy kaftans, and tinkling gold bracelets, have pushed their creams and oils on me for as long as I can remember. Even when I was an awkward middle schooler, when I looked much more like Augustus Gloop than the Hollywood icons my mother adored, they fawned over my “natural beauty.” Sharing my skincare routine was a way to show love. It was my family’s gateway to power, confidence, and acceptance. Beauty was our holy trinity.

As we grew older, my mother admired beauty techniques from afar and became a freelance beauty writer. I went to work in Vogue magazinewhere there was a certain expectation regarding a person’s appearance. I have become the gift-giver of beauty, the one who always “knows.” The most effective cleaning brushes Lymphatic drainage Devices and neck tightening creams. Premium hair care and the best boar bristle brushes and microfiber hair towels. Even today, I am the beauty czar in my family, a role I enjoy.

Then, at the beginning of 2024, my mother died suddenly of arrhythmia at the age of 71. I was six weeks postpartum with my second child and struggling to put a smile on my three-year-old. I threw myself into work, into writing, and of all things, into my daily beauty regimen. I couldn’t bear to disappear from my children, my means of income, my health, and my responsibilities. So I chose an obsession that I was somewhat familiar with.

All this led me into a love affair with LED red light therapyWhich is something that if my mother were alive today, she would be amazed by. She was always looking for this or that to help reduce wrinkles and tighten her skin. We used to visit the same spa together when I would go home to Mississippi. She was always asking if I thought the new beauty craze was worth the money.

This time I will tell her: Yes. Of all the home remedies I’ve tried so far, Red light therapy masks They gave the most bang for my buck. I wear them constantly—no beauty routine works if it’s not followed diligently—and over time I’ve noticed my skin becoming brighter, smoother, and healthier. Plus, the ten minutes I spend behind the mask are a welcome moment of peace at the end of a long day.

(Note that results may vary when using red light therapy masks, especially depending on the device, how often it is used, the person’s age, and current skin condition. Additional studies are also needed to determine the long-term effects of these masks. If you are sensitive to light, you should avoid using a red light therapy mask. If you are not sure if this product is right for you, consult a dermatologist.)

These days, I wear Omnilux, which I like because their products are FDA-approved, on-site availability Clinical bibliography (Receipts!) and provide information about them How their technology works. I use Contour face and Neck and chest circumference Devices I use roughly three times a week (sometimes more, sometimes less). Every time I wear this nightmarish mask, the combination resembles a Vincent Price mask Mask of the Red Death and The man in the iron mask -I wonder what my mother will think. I imagine she’ll have a good laugh. I think she would be happy to have a new gadget in the name of beauty.

Let me be clear: I am in no way suggesting that red light therapy alleviates grief. (Although I would totally choose that if that happened.) Grief is not meant to be solved, just managed. To show up for my family, my career, and myself, I also take prescription medications to manage my condition anxiety; I have dabbled in EMDR therapy and hypnosis. I write about my mother. a lot.

It may seem strange, but sharing the routines we enjoyed together brought it home to me. For a moment, she is alive in my mind. And if I’ve learned anything in the past year, it’s that tradition can soothe the void left by an absence that can’t be filled. Sometimes taking steps toward simple joys, no matter how silly they may seem, can keep sadness at bay long enough to enjoy a little light.