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While lying on a treatment table in a small wellness centre, I tried to breathe deeply. Dulcet notes filtered through the walls of the private room, but I wasn’t even attempting to relax any more. I gave that up five minutes ago. Instead, I craned my neck to see the clock and gauge how much longer I’d need to lie to here with three dozen needles sticking out of my face. I had 30 minutes to go. I shifted uncomfortably and reminded myself that by the end of this session – my first – it would all be worth it.

In 2018, I made a life-changing decision to go under the needle to rejuvenate my skin. Not Botox, but cosmetic acupuncture: a natural alternative that promised to bring back some of the youthful glow I’d taken for granted a decade ago when I was in my mid-twenties. People have turned to this ancient Chinese practice to treat everything from aches and pains to digestive issues and even anxiety, but these fine needles were said to do wonders for my face, too. It turned out, though, that the life-changing part was the impact on my mind and well-being.

I became interested in the procedure after seeing a flurry of videos and stories on my Instagram feed of women in Toronto getting the all-natural facelift courtesy of registered acupuncturist Amrit Singh. The process is said to work by stimulating the natural production of collagen.

Singh follows one general protocol for everyone to address the concerns that most people have such as laughter lines or wrinkles around the eyes. On my first visit, she mostly focused on my forehead, to nip the fine lines I’m developing in the bud. Singh used a blend of Japanese needles (best for sensitive areas) and Korean needles (best for wrinkles). And she was fast. I didn’t even realize she had put close to 50 needles in my face along with some other points in my body (to boost energy, regulate my digestive system, reduce inflammation and to help with stress). All in all, the application of the needles took only about 10 minutes.

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Practitioners of cosmetic acupuncture say the ancient Chinese treatment can help restore the skin.iStock

That’s when the real trouble started. I was left alone in the room to “relax" for just over half an hour as the needles did their work on my face and body. Singh had looked mortified when I asked her if I could use my phone to pass the time – so I quickly abandoned the idea.

Without the device, my monkey mind took me from one thought to another: From the travel article I’d read in the morning (will I ever write like that?) to forgetting to update MyFitnessPal app (hopefully I haven’t blown my carbs for the day), to contemplating the bouts of rejection I’d felt recently in my friendship circles (stupid WhatsApp politics), to wondering about the day I would no longer care about these things.

Relaxation does not come easily to me. In yoga, when instructors tell me to close my eyes, I can feel myself clenching them shut. What I find most relaxing about baths is being able to multitask. I catch up on my shows while a face mask cleans out my pores and Epsom salts soothe my muscles.

This, however, was excruciating. I tried meditative breathing and, failing that, falling asleep (neither worked) but somehow – miraculously – I made it through the first session. A couple of days later, friends told me I was glowing. Singh recommends most clients undergo about 10 sessions to get results, so I resigned myself to seeing this through. I booked a few more sessions, knowing what was in store.

But then, something funny happened. I began to relax, the nagging thoughts would still come, but I’d let them drift away instead of dwelling on them. I started to look forward to our sessions for more than just the prospect of glowing skin. Eventually, it became a blessing to lie there at the end of the week and do nothing. I was no longer clenching my eyes shut trying to enter a state of bliss; I was letting myself be.

Forty-five minutes of relaxation a week doesn’t sound like much, but it’s a lot more than what I usually get. I’d guess the same is true for most people. Now, at the end of each appointment, as the creaky wooden door slides open gently and Singh steps back in the room, I wish the session hadn’t passed by so quickly. When she starts taking out the needles, the removal of each one feels like a mini-catharsis. After disposing of the final needle, Singh mists my face with toner. Next, she runs a cooling rose quartz roller across my forehead and along my cheeks. I feel the benefits too, inside out. I continue the sessions to keep my mind feeling as glowy as my face. I now find it incredibly relaxing to be left to my own devices – without actually using tech devices – with needles sticking out of my face.

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