Chief Pretty Officer | (CPO) Record |17.
The TL;DR | The Beginning of the Journey
Devices aren't magic wands, they're commitments. This is the story of how grief became my mirror,how one photo changed my trajectory and why I spent six months researching before pressing a single button. If you're thinking about adding devices to your routine, start here.
Not with a purchase, but with the right questions.
This is Part One of the Device Series: The Why Before the What.
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Editor's Note | The Beam and the Net
When my father passed in my late 30s, I was busy. New projects and clients, life shifting in ways that demanded my full attention. The grief was immediate, heavy but I stayed in motion. It took three years before I could really sit with the loss, before I understood what it meant to live without my pillar of strength.
My father made me strong in ways that complemented everything my mother taught me.
So his absence felt like loss but also like legacy. I could carry him forward.
Losing my mother three years ago in 2023 was different.
I've always had this vision of myself on a beam, like a circus performer holding a stick for balance. The net below? That was my mom. Every time I fell, I knew she'd catch me.
When she was gone, the net disappeared.
Now when I look down, it's dark. Ever looked down at your kitchen sink? That kind of darkness. It’s like I don't see the ground. And the thought that runs through my mind still to this day is, simple and unshakable:
I can't fall. I won’t lose.
Because if I do, I'll fall into an abyss of nothing. And that will never be me. I don't want it to be you, either.
The Photo That Changed Everything
After my mother passed, I took a photo of myself.
I remember looking at it and seeing sadness I didn't recognize. Sleepless nights written across my face. Eyes that looked tired in a way that felt permanent.
I couldn't stop staring at that picture.
Not because I was vain. But because I could see where this was heading if I didn't do something. This loss was going to age me not just on the inside, but visibly, undeniably, in ways I wasn't ready to accept. It's similar to when I forced myself to start going to the gym when I turned thirty.
Do you know the feeling? It's that moment when you realize something bad will inevitably happen if you don't make a change.
I didn't want to look sad forever.
I wanted to honor my grief without wearing it like a mask I couldn't take off.
So I asked myself: How do I figure out the best tools that can uplift how I look without going under the knife or reaching for a needle and still allow me to be the best version of myself?
That's when I started my journey with devices.
Not from a place of vanity but a place of discipline. From a place of refusal to let grief erase the woman I'd worked so hard to become. This was my new normal, a profound shift in thinking as a different woman. With innocence lost and no parents, you are undeniably an orphan in the world. I don't care if others disagree, because this is my truth.
Before You Buy: Ask the Right Questions
If you're thinking about devices, don't start with a credit card. Start with clarity.
Here are the questions I had to answer for myself and the ones you need to answer before you invest a single dollar or minute:
1. What do you actually want the device to do?
Be specific. Not "look better" or "fix my skin."
Do you want:
- Brighter skin?
- Tighter jawline?
- Reduced fine lines?
- Better texture?
- Lighten discoloration?
- Soften lines around the mouth, eyes and forehead?
- More lifted cheekbones?
Your answer determines which device, if any , is right for you.
2. What do you think devices will do for you?
Now, for the radical honesty:
If you're expecting a device to make you look 10 years younger overnight, stop right now. That's not what this is.
Devices are micro-lifts. They are not a panacea. They are not surgery. They are not injectables.
If your wrinkles are a 9 on a scale of 1 to 10, a good device might get you to a 5. Maybe a 4 if you're committed. A 1? That's Botox, fillers, or a scalpel. Not a device.
Get comfortable with that reality before you spend a dime.
If you want an overhaul the kind that turns back the clock dramatically you need clinical intervention. That's not a judgment,just physics. Devices are about maintaining and meeting you where you are.
But if you're open to the slow, steady disciplined work of incremental improvement? If you're okay with enhancing what you have instead of erasing what you don't like?
Then devices might be your path.
3. Do you have the bandwidth for this?
Here's what no one tells you upfront:
Devices are a time suck.
The average device takes anywhere from five to thirty minutes per session. And you don't see real results for 90 to 120 days.
Let me say that again: three to four months before you notice a meaningful difference.
This is not a quick fix. This is a marathon.
It's like losing weight. It's like training for a race that's a year away. It requires consistency, patience and the ability to keep going even when you can't see progress yet.
If you don't have the time, the mental stamina or the vision to commit to that timeline don't buy the device. You'll use it twice, get frustrated, and let it collect dust.
But if you can see yourself in that discipline? If you can imagine the version of you six months from now who stayed the course?
Then let's keep going.
The Research: My Six-Month Deep Dive
When I decided I was serious about devices, I didn't impulse-buy the first thing that looked shiny.
I researched. For six months.
I know that sounds excessive. Maybe it is. But here's what I learned in that time:
- Not all devices are created equal. Some are clinical-grade. Some are gimmicks with good marketing.
- Technology matters. RF (radio frequency), LED (light therapy), microcurrent, ultrasound, galvanic they all do different things. You need to understand what you're buying and why.
- Price doesn't always equal quality. Some $500 devices outperform $2,000 ones. But some don't. You have to do the homework.
- Your skin type and age matter. What works for someone in their 30s might not work for someone in their 50s. What works for dry skin might irritate oily skin.
- Consistency beats intensity. A device you'll actually use three times a week will always outperform the "best" device you use once a month.
I read reviews, watched dermatologists break down the science, talked to aestheticians and cross-referenced studies.
Because I wasn't just buying a tool. I was investing in a ritual that would become part of my identity. Part of how I showed up. Part of how I refused to let grief win.
And I needed to know it would work.
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Closing Note | What Comes Next
In Part Two of this series, we'll go deep into the types of devices that actually deliver what they do, how they work, and who they're for.
In Part Three, we'll talk about The C.P.O. Counter:
Device Edition my curated recommendations, the ones I've tested, the ones I trust, and the ones I'd tell you to skip.
But before we get there, sit with this:
Devices are not shortcuts. They're discipline.
They're the ritual you commit to when you refuse to let life grief, stress, aging, exhaustion write the final chapter of how you look and feel. If that resonates, you're ready for the next step.
If it doesn't, that's okay too. Not every tool is for every woman. The most important thing is knowing what you actually need and being honest about what you're willing to give.
Reflection Prompts | Before You Begin
What am I really hoping a device will give me and is that expectation realistic?
Do I have 90–120 days of consistency in me right now, or am I looking for faster results?
What would it feel like to invest in this for myself, intentionally not for transformation but for maintenance and care?
Closing Note | The Discipline of Being Pretty
Devices didn't fix my grief. They didn't bring my mother back or erase the sadness from that photo.
But they gave me something to control when everything else felt out of control.
They became a ritual. A way of saying: I'm still here. I'm still showing up. I'm still worth the effort.
That's what this series is about. Not miracles. Not magic. Just the unglamorous, necessary work of caring for yourself when life asks everything of you and gives nothing back.
If you're ready for that work, stay with me.
We're just getting started.
Keep leading.
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