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When I first noticed them in the mirror
I can’t say exactly when they appeared. I just noticed them in the mirror one day. Completely by accident.
I was standing in the shower, still wet, with a towel in my hands, when I suddenly saw these thin lines on my thigh. They were reddish, like scratches. I even ran my finger over them, thinking I could rub them off. But they didn’t disappear.
A moment of silence. Then I started turning around, bending over, catching the light. You know when you try to see a pimple and it’s there, then it’s not, until you get really close? It was like that.
And it felt like I had found something foreign on myself. Like a sticker that someone forgot to peel off. But it wasn’t a sticker.
Strange words immediately popped into my head: “you need to apply oil,” “it’s ugly.” And I even got angry — not at myself, but at the fact that these voices were there at all.
And then I just went to drink tea. But the thought was already stuck in my head.
Awkwardness in the locker room and in my own head
There’s always a strange atmosphere in the changing room. It’s noisy, people are chatting, laughing, lockers are banging, and everything seems fine until you start undressing yourself. I immediately feel the urge to do everything very quickly, to pull on my jeans so that no one notices anything.
Sometimes I don’t even understand what exactly I’m afraid of. Well, it’s not like people are actually looking at my thighs.
But it’s like there’s a spotlight in my head all the time. And I am my own audience, and the strictest one at that.
Sometimes I stand there, taking off my T-shirt, and think, “Okay, now this line on my skin is visible, I wonder if anyone will notice?” And then I catch myself feeling uncomfortable, not because of the people around me, but because of the mirror opposite me. It’s as if it deliberately emphasizes what I don’t want to see.
It’s funny and sad at the same time. Because it seems like no one even pays attention. Although I’ve already made a big deal out of it in my head.
A jar of cream that I had high hopes for
I remember sitting there in a panic, Googling everything I could find. TikTok, YouTube, blogs — everywhere I looked, there were promises that “in a week, you’ll forget you ever had stretch marks.”
And of course, I believed it. Because at that moment it seemed to me that if I didn’t do anything, I would never be able to undress normally in front of anyone.
I looked at these girls in the videos, with their perfect thighs, smiling as they applied cream, and a few seconds later showing off their smooth skin.
And something clicked inside me: this is it, this is the solution.
I actually ran around pharmacies looking for that one, the “magic” one. I bought it. It was expensive. At home, I put it on the shelf and looked at the jar as if it were some kind of salvation.
I applied it every day, sometimes twice a day.
I fell asleep sticky, sticking to the sheets, but I thought, okay, it’s worth it.
And you know what? Nothing. Weeks went by, the jar emptied, and everything was the same in the mirror. And I stood there and felt that I had deceived myself.
Not even the cream — myself. Because I believed that miracles exist.
It worked — and it was unexpected
At some point, I really gave up. All these banks that promise to erase stretch marks in two weeks—well, it sounds nice, but in real life, it’s not like that at all.
I started thinking: maybe my skin just needs what it needs. Normal moisturizing, not this strange film that slides off and disappears after half an hour.
And then I bought Aveeno. The simplest lotion, without any particular expectations. And suddenly it turned out to be just what I needed.
I apply it every day after a shower, sometimes even just when my skin is dry. And it has really changed. It’s soft, smooth, as if it has calmed down.
And now the stretch marks are not so bright, they seem to have calmed down along with the skin.
Then I started reading about what helps if the stretch marks are already there. And I came across retinol.
I hesitated for a long time, but in the end I bought Medix cream. I apply it in the evening, only in the evening — you can’t use it during the day because of the sun.
And if your skin is exposed during the day, you absolutely must use SPF.
Girls, remember, SPF is a must!
And it turned out to be unexpected. Not a miracle. Just small steps and patience. And damn, it works.
It turns out that high-quality moisturizing and careful work with active ingredients such as retinol accelerates cell regeneration and helps our skin renew itself faster.
But the most important thing is not to skimp on creams and to buy high-quality brands.
Because most mass-market creams simply create a film on our skin.
It creates the feeling that our skin is velvety and moisturized, but it’s just a film and nothing more.
Therefore, I advise you to try high-quality moisturization.
My body turned out to be more stubborn than the bloggers promised
You know, I was angry for a long time. Because everywhere they promise quick results — a week, a month at most.
But my body seemed to be dragging its feet on purpose.
I applied the cream, waited, looked in the mirror, applied the cream again.
And nothing. Well, okay, not “nothing,” but definitely not like the pictures on Instagram.
For the first few months, I thought it was all for nothing. That I was wasting money, time, and energy, and getting nothing in return.
And it was upsetting. Really upsetting, sometimes to the point of tears.
And then I noticed… not right away, but gradually. The stretch marks became lighter. They didn’t go away, no.
But my skin became softer, calmer, and I stopped feeling like it said “you’re broken” on it.
And that feeling — that my body hadn’t succumbed to magic, but had changed nonetheless.
In its own way, at its own pace — it turned out to be more important than I thought. It was as if it had shown its character.
And I’m like, okay, stubborn, but still mine.
Little rituals that calmed me down
The strangest thing is that what calmed me down the most were some small habits. Just the most ordinary ones.
After a shower, I would take some cream and rub it into my skin. And that was my moment of silence.
No thoughts, no expectations that “everything will disappear now.” Just warm skin, cream in my palms, and five minutes that belonged only to me.
Sometimes I would make tea and put the mug next to me while I applied the cream.
And that was my little ritual: my skin smelled of cream, my hands were busy, steam rose from the mug, and the world seemed to slow down.
There were days when I did it automatically, angry and tired.
But I did it anyway. Because it made me feel a little better inside. Even if the result wasn’t immediate, at least I had the feeling that I was doing something for myself.
And it really worked. Both as a remedy for stretch marks and as a remedy for my panic.
I look at my skin differently than I did a year ago
I look at my skin now and it’s not at all like it was a year ago. Back then, all I could see were those red streaks.
They were bright, like fresh scratches, and it seemed to me that they stood out more than anything else about me.
But now I look, and they have really become lighter. They haven’t disappeared, no.
But they are no longer as noticeable as they used to be. Sometimes I even catch myself forgetting about them. I
‘m just standing in the bathroom, painting my eyelashes or drying my hair, and suddenly I notice that my skin is completely different.
I remember how I used to apply cream every day and think: nothing is changing. But the changes did come, just not right away.
My skin became soft and smooth to the touch, and even if the stretch marks remained, they no longer looked like enemies.
And this feeling — that I can see the results, albeit slowly — is the most valuable thing.
