Grooming routine—mine was straight garbage until, what, eight weeks ago? I’m hunched over my laptop in this freezing Chicago studio, radiator banging like it’s mad at me, and I swear the wind just rattled the window hard enough to wake the dead. Third cup of burnt gas-station coffee cooling beside me. Anyway. Used to stumble outta bed, hair doing its best impression of a bird’s nest after a tornado, deodorant optional. One time I showed up to a client lunch with a toothpaste smudge on my collar like a badge of defeat. Coworkers side-eyed me so hard I felt it in my soul.
Why My Grooming Routine Used to Suck (And Yours Might Too)
Look, I’m not proud. Zoom call last month—camera flipped on by accident—and there I was: patchy beard, flakes on the shoulders, eyes red from doom-scrolling till 2 a.m. My ex once told me, “You smell like gym socks and broken dreams.” I laughed. Then cried in the shower. The problem? I kept buying $60 serums I’d use once and forget. Drawer full of half-empty bottles mocking me every morning. Sticking to grooming felt like trying to herd cats while hungover.
The Dumb Moment That Actually Worked
Friday night, Wicker Park bar toilet—fluorescent hell-light. Buddy tags me in a story. I look like I lost a fight with a lawnmower. That hit different. Next morning, hungover, I splashed water on my face so cold it burned. Steam from the ancient radiator fogged the mirror. Wrote “face-teeth-hair” on a sticky note with a Sharpie that skipped. Stuck it crooked. It’s still there, ink bleeding from shower splashes. That was the start. Tiny. Stupid. Worked.
Hacks I Swear By (Even When I Don’t Feel Like It)
- Piggyback on coffee. Grinder whirs, I’m already at the sink. Face wash while it drips. Smell of beans + cold water = weirdly motivating. Tried shower-first, but I’m a gremlin pre-caffeine.
- Three things max. Cleanser, moisturizer-SPF combo, beard oil that smells like Christmas trees. Everything else lives in a shoebox under the sink so I don’t get decision fatigue. Spilled oil on my only clean shirt once. Wore it anyway. Smelled like a lumberjack. Got compliments.
- Forgive the skip. Missed yesterday ‘cause I passed out watching YouTube essays. Woke up, did a 30-second wipe-down with a damp towel. Good enough. Progress, not perfection, yada yada.
- Nightstand prep: lay out tomorrow’s socks or whatever. Half the time I forget and wear mismatched ones. Whatever.
- Minty wake-up: toothpaste that burns so good I actually look forward to it.
- Sunday purge: toss crusty samples while eating cold pizza. Dropped the clippers last week—new sink chip. Landlord’s gonna love that.
The Relapses (Because Of Course)
Bought a $45 cologne on impulse. Used it once. Now it’s a $45 paperweight. Some weeks depression wins and I don’t touch a comb. That’s real. But the routine’s flexible now—miss morning, hit it at night. Buddy noticed first: “You don’t look like you slept in a dumpster anymore.” High praise.
Fine-Tuning So Your Grooming Routine Doesn’t Die
Car floss picks after movie popcorn trauma. Drugstore travel sizes for work trips. Play Biggie while shaving—rhythm keeps me from nicking my neck. Yesterday? Overslept, slapped on deodorant in the elevator. Still counts.
Shoutout to the AAD’s no-frills skin guide and that one Reddit habit-stacking thread I bookmarked at 3 a.m.
Alright, I’m Out
From raccoon eyes to… mildly presentable human, that’s the arc. Radiator’s still clanking, coffee’s gone cold, but my face doesn’t scare children anymore. Start with one thing. One. Tell me in the comments what always derails you—I’ll commiserate. Or don’t. Just don’t be like 2024 me.
