About the letters we write in our heads at 2 am. The ones we never say out loud.
What if you actually sat down and wrote one - a real, honest, messy letter - to one of the parts of your face that's aging? Not a gratitude journal. Not an affirmation. A ceasefire.
That's what Part 1 is. Frankie's writing them - to her wrinkles, her neck, her forehead lines, her gray hair, her hands. Some letters are angry. Some are funny. Some will sneak up on you.
Follow along below (or on social media). Somewhere in here, you might find the letter you've been meaning to write yourself. 🤍
Meet Frankie
She's 50ish. She's got wrinkles, a neck she has complicated feelings about, and absolutely zero interest in pretending she's 30.
Over the next few months, Frankie's going to say out loud what most of us only think in the mirror.
Because here's the thing - you can love your face AND wish your forehead would chill.
Both can be true.
This is day one of "Dear Wrinkles." And it's for every woman who's ever had a full-on argument with her reflection. 🤍
Dear Wrinkles
We need to talk. I’ve been avoiding you.
Mostly by tilting my chin up in every photo and blaming the lighting. But you’re here. And honestly? You’ve been here for a while.
I don’t love you yet. I might never fully love you. But I’m starting to think that hating you is exhausting and maybe not the flex I thought it was.
So here’s what I’m trying: I’m going to stop pretending you don’t exist and start figuring out how to live with you without losing my mind.
It’s not a love letter. It’s a… ceasefire. 🤍
~ Frankie
Dear Sagging Skin
Look. I’m not going to sugarcoat this. I’ve had thoughts about you that would make my therapist take notes.
I pull you back in the mirror sometimes just to see what I used to look like. (Don’t judge me. You know you’ve done it too.)
I keep waiting for the day I wake up and just… accept you.
Like there’s going to be some big moment where I look in the mirror and feel at peace.
I’m not sure if that day will come. And maybe it doesn’t have to. Maybe I don’t need to love you, but I could just stop going to war with you every morning.
Maybe that’s enough for now. Truce? 🤍
~ Frankie
Your Turn?
If you sat down to write a honest letter to one part of your aging face… which part would get the letter? ✉️
Your neck? Your forehead? Those eyelids that apparently forgot how gravity works? 😂
We're not asking you to love it. Just… stop going to war with it. A ceasefire. That's all.
Which part are you ready to call a truce with?
If you're feeling brave and actually want to write the letter? We would LOVE to read it (email it to us!). We'll never share who wrote it - but we might just ugly-cry reading it. 🤍
Dear Forehead Lines
My daughter told me the other day that I always scrunch my face when I'm concentrating. Apparently I've been doing it my whole life.
So I guess… you're kind of my autobiography, written on my face. Every late night, every hard decision, every time I tried to figure out what the heck was wrong with the WiFi.
I'm not gonna lie - I've googled "forehead botox" more times than I'll admit. And maybe one day I'll do it. But right now I just wanted you to know: even though I complain about you, you're proof I've been paying attention to my life.
That's something.
So here's the deal for now: I'm not going to pretend I love you. And you're not going to stop showing up.
But maybe we can agree to coexist.
You stay. I'll stop flinching every time I catch you in the rearview mirror. Deal? 🤍
~ Frankie
Real Talk
Nobody warns you that aging happens on a random Tuesday. Like, you're just brushing your teeth, minding your business, and suddenly your neck looks like it has opinions.
When did that happen? Were you asleep? Did you skip a day and your face said "cool, moving on without you"? And honestly? The worst part isn't the wrinkle.
It's the audacity of the wrinkle.
I moisturized. I drank water. I did the things. And this is what I get? Here's what nobody talks about though.
There's this weird middle ground between hating it - which is exhausting - and loving it - which… let's be real, nobody wakes up and loves their crow's feet. Nobody.
But there's a place in between. Where you look at your face and think… okay. I don't love this. But I don't hate you. We're just… figuring it out. Together.
That's the place. It's okay to live there. 🤍
~ Frankie
Dear Reflection
You are honestly the most complicated relationship I've ever had.
Some mornings you're fine. Great lighting, good hair day, and I think - OK, we're doing alright.
And then there are the other mornings. The ones where I swear you aged five years overnight and I'm convinced you're doing it on purpose.
Here's what I'm learning though: you're just showing me what's real. And I need to get better at looking at what's real without falling apart.
We're a work in progress, you and me. Some mornings I'll still spiral a bit. But I'm going to keep showing up.
Kinder than yesterday. That's the goal. 🤍
~ Frankie
Survey
Can I ask you something?
No right answers. No judgment. No "should."
We put together a quick survey - 9 questions about how you really feel about aging. Your wrinkles. The pressure. The 2am skincare spirals.
Takes about 3 minutes. And yes - we're sharing the results. Honestly? I'm just really curious what everyone's going to say. Maybe something will surprise us. And if it doesn't - it's still kind of nice to know we're not alone in our heads.
🔗 Link in bio → Dear Wrinkles Survey
* Survey open from April 17-27, 2026
Dear Neck
We need to change our relationship.
I've been awful to you. Like, genuinely terrible. I look at you every morning and think things I wouldn't say to my worst enemy.
You're getting saggy and I hate you.
And I know there are other necks out there - necks my age - that somehow look like they skipped a decade. And I resent them.
But you know what? You hold my head up every single day. That's literally your whole job and you do it well.
So maybe I can stop hating you long enough to appreciate that. Maybe I can want to put learn to put cream on you AND not despise you at the same time. Crazy concept, right?
Working on it - and honestly? Getting there. 🤍
~ Frankie
Cheeky Avoidance
Things I do instead of accepting my skin is aging:
But you know what? Last week I caught my reflection in a store window and just… kept walking. Didn't even stop to assess.
That's growth. Tiny, barely noticeable, probably-won't-last-until-Thursday growth. But still, it's movement in the right direction. 😂🤍
Dear Laugh Lines
OK, I'll admit it. Of all the aging things happening to my face, you're the ones I mind the least.
You're proof that I've laughed. A lot. Like, ugly-laughed. Snort-laughed. Laughed until I cried at things my kids said that I probably shouldn't have laughed at.
So yeah. You can stay. I'm not saying I'm thrilled about it, but I'm not writing you an angry letter either.
Consider this a thank-you note. A reluctant one. But still. 😂
~ Frankie
Two Truths
I hate my neck AND I love myself. Yes, at the same time.
You can love yourself AND want to change things.
You can look in the mirror and think "I'm beautiful" and also think "I'd really like to do something about these under-eye bags."
Those aren't contradictions. They're just… being human.
Aging is like that. Let both truths coexist. You don't have to love all of it to stop being at war with it.
Two truths, one you. 🤍
~ Frankie
Dear Grey Hair
OK so when did you get here? Like, ALL of you? I swear last year it was "a few silvers" and now you're almost running the whole operation.
Here's the thing though - something's shifted. Gray hair used to mean one thing: old. That was it. Game over. Get thee to a salon.
But lately? I keep seeing women rocking their silver and looking absolutely incredible. Not "good for their age." Just… good. Like themselves. And I'm starting to think maybe it's less about whether you look old or young and more about whether you look like ‘you’.
Does that mean I'm ready to let it all grow in? Honestly - I don't know yet. Some mornings I'm feeling the silver fox energy. ✨ Other mornings I'm texting my stylist before I've finished my coffee. 😂
It doesn't have to be all or nothing. And it definitely doesn't have to be for everyone.
But I'm getting more comfortable with you. And that's new. 🤍
~ Frankie
Survey Results
A few weeks ago we asked you how you really feel about your aging skin. And the results surprised me - in a good way.
Here are 3 things that jumped out:
- Only 11% said they're "at war" with their wrinkles. I expected that number to be way higher. Turns out, most of us are somewhere in the messy middle - not loving it, not hating it, just… figuring it out.
- 31% said they're mostly at peace with their wrinkles. That's nearly a third of us who've gotten to a place of "yeah, they're part of me." That's amazing!
- 40% said it's complicated. Which might be the most relatable answer of all. Some days OK, some days not. That's just real life. 🤷♀️
Here's what I took away from all of this: we're not as far gone as we think. Yes, it's complicated. Yes, there are hard days. But most of us are already leaning toward acceptance - even if it doesn't always feel like it.
Oh, and we also asked on the survey… “Where does the most pressure about your appearance come from?
"This answer surprised me the most for sure! (It's not who you think.) Scroll down to the bottom on this page to see the full results. 🤍
Dear Age Spots
Where did you even come from? Like, I swear you weren't here last summer. And now you've brought friends.
I won't lie - I've tried to fade you. Serums, exfoliants, that one "miracle" cream that definitely wasn't a miracle.
But you're persistent. I'll give you that.
Maybe instead of trying to erase you I'll just… acknowledge you. You're here because I've lived outside. Walked beaches. Gardened. Sat in the sun reading books I loved.
You're a map of everywhere my skin has been. A souvenir from a life well-lived. I'll take it. 🌞
~ Frankie
Dear Me
This one's for you.
Over the past few weeks, Frankie's been writing letters. To her wrinkles. Her neck. Her gray hair. Her hands. The parts of her that are changing.But there's one letter she hasn't written yet. The hardest one.
Dear Me.
This is not Frankie's letter. This is your letter to yourself.
What would you say to yourself - the whole, messy, complicated, beautiful version of you - if you sat down and were honest? Maybe it's an apology. Maybe it's a thank-you. Maybe it's just: "I'm trying. And I promise to take baby steps to accept myself more."
This week, write it. Not for Instagram. Not for us. For you.Put pen to paper. Open your Notes app. Write it in the shower in your head. Whatever works.
It's time.
Dear Aging Body
I owe you an apology.
I've spent decades picking you apart. Too much here, not enough there, too old, too soft, too saggy.
I've compared you to younger versions of yourself and found you lacking every time.
You got me through pregnancies, illnesses, heartbreaks, sleepless years, and that one time I tried a double HIIT class at 49 (we don't talk about that).
So here's what I'm trying to do - and I won't pretend I'm great at it yet - I'm trying to stop treating you like a problem to fix and start treating you like someone I live with. Someone I could be kinder to.
We've still got a long way to go, you and me. So I'm going to practice being gentler with you. Little by little. Day by day. 🤍
~Frankie
Coming Up Next
What if the reason you're doing skincare, getting procedures, or stressing about aging isn't because you WANT to… but because you feel like you HAVE to?
Part 2 is all about separating need from want. Pressure from choice. Desperation from decision.
Because when you do something for your skin because you genuinely want to - not because Instagram made you feel like you had to everything changes.
See you then. 🤍
~ Frankie
If your wrinkles could hear your thoughts, would they need therapy?
We asked. You answered - honestly, beautifully, without a filter. Here's what women really said about aging, wrinkles, and the pressure that comes with all of it.
Results from the Dear Wrinkles community survey · April 2026
We asked: "What would you say to a friend who was struggling with how she looked as she aged?" Here's a selection of what you shared.
Thank you to every woman who took the time to be honest. Your answers reminded us of something we already knew but sometimes forget - we're all in this together. And that's kind of the whole point.
This is Part 1 of the Aging Authentically campaign. More letters, more conversations, and more honesty coming soon. Stay with us. 🤍