I ran into my ex-husband's new wife at Target.

She was thirty-four. She looked at me like she felt sorry for me. That was in March.

Michael and I were married for sixteen years before he left for someone from his office. Cliché, I know. She's the kind of pretty that doesn't have to try yet, because time hadn't shown up for her yet.

By March, I wasn't fine. I looked like I had aged five years in six months. Stress will do that. Crying every night will do that. Holding your kids together will do that.

I was at Target that Saturday — leggings, no makeup, hair in a messy bun. I was standing in the beauty aisle, staring blankly at yet another $80 eye cream that I knew wouldn't work. I had already tried every single one.

Then I heard a voice. I knew it was her before she even came around the corner.

She saw me, and I watched her face do the thing. Forehead, cheeks, jaw — a two-second scan. I felt that sting. Then she smiled, and it wasn't even malicious. It was worse. It was sympathetic. Like she was looking at the tired, broken-down "before" version of the woman her husband loved first.

I walked to my car and sat there for fifteen minutes. I wasn't angry at her. I was angry at what I'd seen in the mirror that morning. Crow's feet carved deep into the corners of my eyes. Heavy, dark bags that never went away. Eyelids that had started to droop, making me look exhausted even when I had slept eight hours.

It looked like the light had gone out from inside.

I was desperate. I had to say something.

"What do you use?" I blurted out. "Your eyes are an absolute dream."

She laughed, looked closely at my face, and said, "Girl, what are you using?"

I rattled off my routine: retinol serums, expensive caffeine rollers, luxury department store creams, all of it.

She held up a hand.

The next day, she brought a small box to pickup and put it in my hand. It had Korean writing on it — something I'd never seen at Sephora or any drugstore.

"White honeycomb patches," she explained. "Put these on once a week. Watch them go on white, and then watch them turn completely clear. That's the delivery happening. That's the peptide getting through your skin barrier to where the aging actually happens. Throw the rest of that expensive stuff away."

That night, after the kids were asleep, I pressed them under my eyes. They were bright white against my skin. I sat on the edge of my bathtub and watched. Over the next forty-five minutes, something incredible happened. The patches slowly turned completely clear.

I had never seen a skincare product do that before. No eye cream had ever shown me physical proof that it was actually doing anything.

Three weeks later, I looked in the mirror and stopped dead in my tracks. The deep crow's feet around my eyes were visibly softer.

My teenage daughter came home from school, looked at me, and said, "Mom, you look different. Good different. Your eyes look so rested."

By week six, I was in absolute shock. The heavy, dark bags were lighter than they had been in years. My drooping eyelids looked lifted and firm. For the first time in over a decade, I stopped reaching for my heavy under-eye concealer. I didn't need it anymore.

Then June happened. It was the piano recital for my daughter's class.

Michael's new wife sat down a few seats away from me. She looked over at me. This time, there was no pity. There was no sympathy. She just looked confused.

After the recital, she actually walked up to me. "You look really good, by the way," she said.

The same woman who made me sit and cry in my car that day in March.

Ever since the secret got out about these Korean honeycomb masks, Koseon has been struggling to keep them in stock. They've gone viral several times, and they frequently sell out for months at a time.

However, as of today, they are back in stock. Even better, Koseon is currently running a special Buy 2 Get 1 Free promotion for first-time buyers.

If you're tired of wasting money on creams that don't work, and you want to finally see the tired bags and crow's feet disappear, you have to try these.

Comments (6)