Okay. Let me try to write this thing. My phone's at like 47% and I'm half-watching some cooking show rerun. But I keep getting asked about my skin lately, so. Here goes nothing.

I have this skin. It’s the worst. Not like, medical emergency worst, but annoying worst. In winter? Forget it. It gets this tight, itchy feeling, like it’s two sizes too small for my face. My cheeks get these rough patches that no amount of scrubbing fixes, and my forehead just shines with this sad, dehydrated kind of oil. I’ve tried stuff. The expensive stuff in the fancy glass jars from that department store. The “clean beauty” stuff that smells like a forest and costs as much as my electric bill. The thick, goopy drugstore creams that just sat on top of my skin, a greasy mask that my pillowcase hated. Nothing worked. Or it worked for a day. Then back to tight and itchy.

So I was scrolling, probably at midnight, and I saw this thing about tallow balm. Beef fat. For your face. I laughed. Out loud. My dog looked at me. It sounded like something my great-grandma would have used, not a thing you buy online in 2024. But the person talking about it had skin like mine. Dry but somehow oily, sensitive, just generally pissed off. And they swore by it. I was skeptical. So skeptical. But also desperate. It was January. The air was drier than my sense of humor. I figured, what’s the worst that could happen? I smell like a kitchen? I already felt like a dried-out sponge, so.

I clicked on this little Etsy shop that kept popping up. They had a Whipped Tallow Balm in lavender. Lavender’s supposed to be calming, right? For sleep. My skin definitely needed to calm down. The description said it was made from grass-fed beef suet from France, whipped up. Mimics human skin oil so it sinks in deep. Good for eczema, dry skin, all that. I ordered it. My partner saw the confirmation email and just said, “…tallow?” Yeah. Tallow.

How Beef Tallow for Skin Actually Made Sense to Me

It showed up in a little jar. Unassuming. I opened it. The texture was… weird. Not bad weird. It looked solid but when you put your finger in, it was soft. Like cool butter, but lighter. I smelled it. Smelled like lavender. But not the fake, candle store lavender. More like… dried lavender from a garden? Herbal. Simple. Nothing crazy.

I put a tiny bit on the back of my hand first. I’m not an idiot. It melted. Like, really fast. Just warmth from my skin turned it into this oil. And it soaked in. Didn’t leave my hand shiny or sticky. It just felt… like my hand skin, but better. Not greasy. That was the first surprise.

So I tried it on my face that night. After I washed it. My face was doing its usual tight, squeaky clean thing. I took a pea-sized amount—you don’t need much—and warmed it between my fingers. Then just patted it on. Cheeks, forehead, neck. It felt… calming. The scent was really gentle. Not overpowering. It just felt like a thing my skin was thirsty for. I went to bed expecting to wake up a greaseball.

I didn’t. My skin in the morning was different. Not “OMG transformation” different. But the tightness was gone. The rough patch on my left cheek felt smoother. Not perfect, but softer. And no new breakouts. That was huge. I kept using it. Just at night. Every night.

What This Lavender Tallow Balm Actually Does

Okay, so after a week or two, the changes got more obvious. My skin just stopped freaking out. The tight, itchy feeling after washing? Gone. Completely. The rough patches? Slowly but surely, they smoothed out. It wasn’t an aggressive scrub-off. It was like my skin was finally hydrated enough to heal itself. The oiliness on my forehead during the day? Way less. I guess because my skin wasn’t desperately trying to produce oil to compensate for being so dry.

Here’s the thing I didn’t expect: it became a ritual. The whole process. The simple smell. The way the balm melts. It’s like a signal to my brain that the day is over. I’d put it on, read for ten minutes, and just… crash. I sleep better. I don’t know if it’s the lavender or just the act of doing something nice for myself, but it’s part of it now. My partner even started stealing a little for his knuckles, which get cracked and bloody in the winter. He’s not a skincare guy. At all. But he’ll be like, “hey, pass the cow cream.” High praise.

I ran out of my first jar last month. I didn’t even hesitate to order another one. That’s the real test, right? If you actually re-buy the thing.

My Skin After a Few Weeks of Tallow

So now? I don’t want to sound like an infomercial. But my skin is just… calm. It’s not perfect. I still get a spot if I eat too much sugar. But the baseline is different. It’s resilient. The winter wind doesn’t make it scream. The heat inside doesn’t make it flake. It just feels balanced. Like it’s finally getting what it needs.

I told my mom about it. She has eczema on her hands. Real bad. I gave her my almost-empty jar to try. She texted me a week later: “What’s that stuff called again? My hands don’t hurt.” That’s it. That was her review. “Don’t hurt.” For someone who’s tried prescription creams, that’s a big deal.

I guess the science-y reason it works is because tallow is similar to the oils our own skin makes. So it doesn’t just sit on top. It gets in there and tells your skin it can chill out on the oil production. It’s a natural moisturizer that doesn’t play games. For my skin type—this combo, sensitive, winter-hating skin—it’s been the best tallow for just stopping the constant irritation. A tallow balm for dry, sensitive skin that actually listens.

Would I Buy This Lavender Tallow Balm Again?

Yeah. I already did. I’m looking at the jar on my nightstand right now. It’s about half gone. I’ll probably order another before this one runs out. I’ve even used it on my elbows and knees. They’re… suspiciously smooth. It’s weird.

Look, if you’re like me and your skin gets angry and confused when the temperature drops, and you’ve tried the gels and the serums and the creams that promise the world, maybe just… try the beef fat. I know how it sounds. I was there. But honestly? It just works. It’s simple. It’s one ingredient doing the job of ten. My bathroom shelf is emptier now. And my skin is happier.

Anyway. The cooking show is over. My phone’s at 32%. I should plug it in.

Quick Questions I Get Asked

Is beef tallow good for your face? Yeah, I think so. For me it is. The idea is it’s really close to what our skin already makes, so it sinks in deep instead of clogging stuff up. It’s like giving your skin something it recognizes.

Does tallow balm clog pores? Mine didn’t. At all. And my pores clog if I look at them wrong. Because it absorbs so well, it doesn’t just sit there. It’s not like putting Vaseline on your face. It’s different.

What does the lavender tallow balm smell like? It’s a clean, herbal lavender smell. Not sweet. Not like air freshener. More like dried lavender you’d get in a little bag. It’s gentle. Fades pretty quick after you put it on. Mostly you just feel relaxed.

So if your skin’s being difficult this winter, and you’re tired of complicated routines that don’t do much… might be worth a shot. I got mine from that Etsy shop. Just search for whipped tallow balm lavender. That’s it. That’s my whole review. I’m going to bed.