Beauty DIYs I Probably Shouldn't Be Doing At Home.. But Absolutely Am.

Welcome to my beautified descent into madness. Some people sip tea, journal, or meditate.

I?I perform multi-step cosmetic procedures in my bathroom at 1:14 AM while wearing pajama pants and the confidence of someone who definitely should be supervised.

Let the record show: I’m a nurse. But I’m also… me, so that cancels out.

The Night I Accidentally Botoxed My External Jugular (Yes… THAT Vein)

Picture this: I’m doing a “quick” Nefertiti lift — because who doesn’t contour their neck after a 12-hour shift? — and suddenly the needle hits a vein like:

“Hey girl, miss me?”

I swear I felt my soul leave my body, file a complaint, and return.

I didn’t aspirate. I thought about aspirating. But thinking about a skill is not the same as doing it.

Bruise blossomed instantly. Looked like I got hickeys from a vampire with commitment issues.

Did I panic? Yes. Did I ice? Yes. Did I take pictures because ~blog content~? Absolutely.

My Peptide Drawer: The CDC Would Have Questions

Open my fridge and you’ll expect food. What you’ll actually find:

• MOTS-c

• NAD+ (my liquid personality booster)

• SS-31• Glow Peptide

• 900 syringes

• A leftover Red Bull

• Three mystery vials I swear I labeled but apparently did not

If an inspector walked in, I’d be on a government list immediately.

My fridge looks like a biotech startup owned by a raccoon.

PRF & PRP: My True Love Language

Some girls think about their ex. I think about spin speeds.

No joke — my Roman Empire is:

• Buffy coat thickness

• Centrifuge RPMs• “Is that PRF or am I hallucinating?”

• The forbidden urge to tap the tube like it’s a snow globe

Every PRF session turns my bathroom into a crime scene. My counter looks like CSI: Esthetician Edition.

But listen…PRF works like it’s being graded.

Microneedling: Because Why Not Aerate My Face Like a Lawn

People ask, "Ashley, what’s your skincare routine?”

Friendly reminder: it’s not a routine — it’s a curriculum.

I drag 36 needles across my face with the glee of someone who owns too many rare plants and too few boundaries.

Sometimes I’ll be halfway through and think, "Wow, this is really a Tuesday for me.”

Stem Cell Mesotherapy: Oh I’m FULLY Delulu

Normal people get facials. I inject stem cells into my skin like I’m building a new character in a video game.

I do 40–50 tiny pinpricks while hyping myself up in the mirror like:

“Yes girl, regenerate. Feel your mitochondria quiver.”

Halfway through I always think, "I have become God… with a 30G needle.”

Placenta Injections

Placenta Injections: My Villain Origin Story

Nothing humbles a man faster than hearing you say:

“Babe, have you seen my placenta?”

I treat Melsmon like it’s holy water. I dab it into my face like I’m baptizing myself into the Church of Eternal Glow.

Nick just walks by silently like: "I refuse to ask questions at this point.”

Red Light Therapy: The Aliens Probably Think I’m Signaling Them

My neighbors definitely believe:

• I’m running a grow op• I’m summoning demons

• Or I’m trying to communicate with extraterrestrials

Nope. Just me, glowing like a microwaved rotisserie chicken trying to fix tirzepatide hair loss.

Scalp Mesotherapy: 50 Shots to the Dome Because I Said So

Most people fix their hair by: shampooing.

I fix mine by:

• 50 injections

• A prayer

• A peptide cocktail

• And telling myself “Just a little more” like I’m seasoning a steak

The regrowth? Stunning. The process? Chaos.

The Part Where I Pretend This Is Normal

Look… is any of this sane?

No. Does it work? Worryingly, yes.

My hairline has risen like Lazarus. My skin is glowing like a neon holy relic. My scalp is thriving. My bathroom looks like a lab where ethics go to die.

Overall? A win.

Final Takeaway (Scientifically Unhinged but True)

DIY beauty is NOT for everyone. To participate, you need:

• Sterile technique

• Knowledge• Confidence

• Delusion

• A high pain tolerance

• And a neighbor who doesn’t call the cops when they see red lights flashing

But for the girlies who love science, beauty, chaos, and needles?

This is our Super Bowl.

And I? Am absolutely thriving.