There are many questionable decisions I’ve made in my life, but very few of them haunt me the way this one overpriced beauty tool does. 

I can live with buying the wrong foundation shade. I can forgive myself for owning fifteen lip oils in the exact same color family. I can even accept the time I cut bangs at two in the morning because TikTok convinced me I had “soft girl potential.” 

But this tool? This aggressively marketed, shiny, futuristic, influencer-approved beauty gadget? I am still genuinely upset about it.

It’s not only that it cost more than a weekend getaway. It’s the fact that it did absolutely nothing. And somehow, even after all this time, I am still holding onto the emotional damage of being tricked into spending that much money on something that ended up performing about as well as a lukewarm face roller.

And honestly, if you’ve ever been influenced against your better judgment, you already know what type of journey we’re about to go on.

How TikTok Convinced Me This Tool Was the Answer to Everything

This whole disaster started during a late-night TikTok spiral, which is when most of my bad decisions happen. The app kept serving me video after video of influencers holding a sleek, glossy device that looked like it came straight out of a science-fiction movie. 

They kept claiming their cheekbones were sharper, their jawlines more defined, and their entire face somehow lifted just by using this tool for “a few minutes a day.”

Everyone had the glow that makes you think, “Maybe I actually do need this.” The comments were full of dramatic success stories. The camera angles, the lighting, the smug little smiles after each swipe of the tool was perfectly designed to convince me that if I didn’t own this device, I was basically neglecting my face.

I wish I could say I resisted. I did not. I watched enough of these videos that my For You Page was basically a curated museum of this tool. Instagram started showing me ads for it. YouTube gave me sponsored reviews. Even Google tried to push it on me like it knew I was weak.

Eventually I reached the point of no return: I put it in my cart. Not only did I put it in my cart — I chose express shipping. I even convinced myself this wasn’t impulsive. That I was “investing” in my skin. That this was self-care. Looking back, the delusion is almost impressive.

The Unboxing Moment That Filled Me With False Hope

When the package arrived, it looked expensive. The kind of expensive that whispers, “You made the right decision,” even though you absolutely did not. 

The box was minimal and heavy. The device sat inside like a sacred object. The instruction booklet looked like it belonged to luxury skincare royalty. For a moment, I felt like I had unlocked a new chapter of my life.

That moment was short-lived. I charged the device. I waited for it to be ready. I read the instructions twice. The whole time, I genuinely believed I was about to transform my face into something sculpted and radiant.

If only I had known that this was the high point of the entire experience.

The First Attempt Was Embarrassing, Confusing, and Very Underwhelming

The instructions insisted I apply a conductive gel before using the tool, but of course the company did not include the gel in the box. Apparently, when you spend this much money, you’re still expected to buy the matching accessories separately. Annoying, but not surprising.

Once I finally had the gel in hand, I applied it generously. Maybe too generously. I looked like I was prepping my face to be vacuum-sealed. When I turned the device on, it emitted a tiny buzz that was meant to feel scientific and high-tech but mostly felt like a very gentle electric toothbrush.

I followed the tutorial videos and glided the tool along my jawline. There was a slight tingling sensation that could have been either the device working or my skin panicking. 

After a few minutes, I checked the mirror, expecting at least a hint of improvement. My face looked exactly the same. The only visible difference was that the gel had dried in weird streaks. Still, optimism is a dangerous drug, and I convinced myself this was a long-term tool.

Two Weeks Later, My Patience Was Gone and My Spirit Was Fading

I used the device daily, because the influencers insisted consistency was key. Every night, I sat in front of my mirror, dragging the tool across my face like I was performing a ritual that would change my destiny. I tried different angles. I tried longer sessions. I tried rearranging my routine around it.

Nothing changed. Not my jawline, not my cheekbones, not my mood. The only thing that changed was my tolerance for nonsense.

At one point, I took comparison photos, hoping to convince myself something was happening. The results were identical except for the lighting. I had officially reached the stage of denial where you start gaslighting yourself into believing you might be using it wrong.

The Device Stopped Working

One night, right in the middle of a session, the device made a high-pitched electronic sigh and shut off. I assumed it needed to be charged, so I plugged it in and waited. It didn’t respond. 

I moved it to a different outlet. Nothing. I attempted every reset trick the manual suggested. Still nothing. It simply refused to come back to life, as if it knew it had let me down too many times and couldn’t face me anymore.

That was the moment all my delusion dissolved. I wasn’t holding a futuristic skincare tool. I was holding a very expensive paperweight. And the reality hit me harder than any microcurrent ever could.

Was the Tool Ever Worth It for Anyone?

After abandoning the device entirely, I did what I should’ve done from the start. I researched what dermatologists actually think about these tools. 

Turns out many of them agree that while microcurrent devices can offer temporary results, they don’t usually deliver dramatic transformations, and definitely not the ones influencers promise. 

Some people do see benefits, but it requires long-term consistency, ideal skin conditions, and often a lot more maintenance than anyone admits. Meanwhile, my device died after two weeks of being mediocre.

Why I’m Still Annoyed About It

I’m annoyed because it was expensive. I’m annoyed because I ignored my instincts and believed the hype. 

I’m annoyed because I spent so much time using a tool that didn’t even want to function properly. I’m annoyed because even now, months later, the broken device still sits in my drawer, silently reminding me of my poor choices.

And yes, I’m annoyed because there is still a small, unhinged part of me that wonders if I should buy a replacement, which is the exact kind of thinking that got me into this situation in the first place.

Final Thoughts

This overpriced beauty tool taught me an important life lesson: just because something looks luxurious, sounds scientific, and has twenty influencers praising it doesn’t mean it belongs anywhere near your wallet. 

It reminded me that real skincare improvement rarely comes from flashy gadgets and usually comes from things that are much simpler and half the price.

Will this stop me from trying future trends? Absolutely not. I have the self-awareness to know I will fall for shiny marketing again someday. But next time, maybe I’ll give myself an hour or a full night before pressing “Buy Now.”