If there's one benefit to being practically locked away in my home and unable to see people face to face, it's that I can do something I rarely find the time to do when times are normal.

Well, there are actually many benefits I'm finding amidst the insanity of it all, but that's a story for another day.

But lucky me - I find that I suddenly have all kinds of time to heal from a chemical peel. At home, where no one can see the crazy that happens on my face in the days that follow that first application.

I have malasma, a gift that appeared after the birth of my children, and likely a result of the extra hormones with which I had to fill up my infertile body in order to have them. And unlike a lot of malasma, which can be treated topically with products your MLM friends may be selling, mine is the super deep kind that never really goes away.

BUT it can be lightened a bit with chemical peels. I've done them in a doctor's office a handful of times and had a lot of success with them. And then I tried an at home version that's just a step below medical grade and got some fantastic results.

The downside? The condition of my skin while it heels from the process. 

I usually apply the stuff at night. You just wipe it across your face, then grin and bear it for as long as you can take the pain as the stinging begins. When you reach the point where you want to rip your face off to escape the agony, rinse with cold water, slather a bunch of lotion on, and head to bed (putting the lotion on seems counterintuitive to me, but I've made the mistake of skipping that step and it took a lot longer to get through).

Upon awakening, I always find that my skin is quite tight and smooth. In fact, the first time I tried this stuff, my husband thought I'd had Botox and I was thinking, "Sweet! This is like a miracle product! It changed my face in just 12 hours!"

But no. Because then comes day 2. On that day, my skin begins to dry up, but it's not coming off yet. So it actually ages me by several years. By bedtime that night, I'm itchy and blotchy (I'm not sure if that part is my top layer of my epidermis dying off, or if it's because I'm allergic to pretty much every topical product ever and my skin is simply reacting).

And then you reach day 3. And oh boy - day 3 is not pretty. This is the day you will think to yourself, "Oh dear Lord - what have I done? I have actually made things worse!"

You know when you're on the beach, and there's always that one elderly lady that looks like she's been sitting in the sun for a thousand years? Her skin has wrinkled to the point where he looks something akin to old leather, creased and furrowed beyond belief. Yeah, that's what day 3 looks like, minus the fabulous tan.

Days 4 through 6 the actual flaking and peeling begins and I look like a hideous snake shedding, but this is the whole point of the thing and so it's the most exciting. Eventually my new baby skin emerges as I slough off the old, and voila! It's all been worth it.

Now, Tammy and I are fortunate that we get to be on air fashion experts for a couple of local television channels. Often the invite to appear is extended just a few days prior. Can you imagine if I showed up on day 3? Or even during the scaly and flaky stage? Not great for business.

Or how about when I take pictures of our clothing for the Wild Ruffle website? Who wants to buy a shirt from the lady who looks like a dried up old boot? No thanks.

So it's tricky to find the perfect time to do these peels. And then along comes quarantine to the rescue. I'm currently on round #2! By the time life goes back to normal, I may not have any skin left to peel. I'll just keep taking off those layers until any evidence of my aging has long gone (kidding - I'll stop myself eventually. I think).

If you want to know what kind of peel I use at home, you'll find that here. I make no money from your purchases of this product... I'm a seller of women's clothing and accessories, not of peels. Buy at your own risk, and read the reviews before clicking that purchase button. ;) 

What are you finding time for while you socially distance yourself?

wrinkled lady at beach