Look, I was just trying to get through winter without my face cracking. It was a Tuesday night, maybe Wednesday. The heater was making that clicking noise it does, and my skin felt like old paper. You know that feeling. Tight. I was staring at my bathroom shelf at all the bottles I’d bought—the $30 serum, the $4.79 lotion from Target, that green clay stuff my sister swore by. Nothing was working. My elbows were a whole other story. Rough. Like sandpaper. So I’m scrolling, half-watching some cooking show, and I see this thing about tallow balm. Beef fat. For your face. I laughed. Out loud. My cat looked at me. But the description said it was whipped, from grass-fed cows in France, and the pear one smelled… nice. Not beefy. I was desperate. And curious. So I clicked buy. My tallow balm routine started because I was bored and my cheeks hurt.
It showed up in a little brown box. No fancy packaging. Just a jar. I opened it in my kitchen, under the weird fluorescent light. I was expecting… I don’t know. Lard. It looked like whipped butter. Fluffy. I poked it. Cold. I smelled it. Smelled like pear? Or not. Something. Fresh. Like a fruit bowl in a clean room. Not sweet-sweet. Just… there. I put a tiny bit on the back of my hand. Cold at first. Then it just sank in. No greasy film. My skin looked… calm. I stood there for a minute. Huh.
How I Started Smearing Beef Tallow on My Face
I know how it sounds. I told my friend and she made a face. “You put what on your face?” But here’s the thing I read after I bought it—and I only looked this up because I’d already spent the money—our skin’s natural oil, sebum, is pretty similar to tallow. Like, structurally. So it absorbs. Really well. It doesn’t just sit on top like some plastic-y lotions. It goes in. My brain went, “Oh. That makes a stupid kind of sense.” Like using honey or something. Old school.
My first real try was after a shower. Skin was still damp. I scooped out a bit about the size of a pea. Maybe a little bigger for my whole face and neck. Rubbed it between my palms to warm it up. It melts. Becomes almost oily but not slick. Then I just… patted and pressed it in. Mostly on my cheeks and forehead, which were the Sahara Desert. It felt different. Not heavy. My skin drank it. I didn’t look shiny. I looked… hydrated. That’s the only word I have. Not “dewy” or whatever. Just not thirsty anymore.
I got sidetracked then because my phone buzzed. A text about weekend plans. I started typing back, forgot about my face completely. That’s the best part, actually. You forget it’s there. An hour later I touched my cheek and it was still soft. Not sticky. Not tight. Just normal skin. That hadn’t happened in months.
What My Daily Skincare with Tallow Actually Looks Like
It’s not complicated. I’m not a 10-step person. Mornings, I just splash with water. Sometimes I’ll use a tiny, tiny bit of the balm if it’s really cold and windy out. Like a dab. Half a pea. Just on the super dry spots. It sits under my sunscreen fine. Doesn’t pill.
But nighttime is the main event. After I wash my face—with that basic Cerave cleanser, the green one—I’ll sometimes use a toner if I remember. Usually I don’t. Then I grab the jar. While my skin’s still a little damp, I scoop my pea-sized amount. Sometimes I use a bit more if my hands are wrecked from washing dishes. I rub my palms together. The smell is nice. Light. Fruity but in a grown-up way. Not like candy. Then I press it all over. I spend maybe 20 seconds. I’m usually thinking about what I need to do tomorrow or what I’m going to watch.
The balm from that Etsy shop, the one I got, is whipped so it’s airy. Not dense. It spreads easy. In winter, this is the last step. The only step. I don’t layer anything over it. It’s enough. I’ll put socks on my gross feet and go to bed. My pillowcase doesn’t feel greasy. I don’t wake up with a shiny face. I wake up and my skin doesn’t feel like it’s screaming for moisture the second I open my eyes. That’s the win.
My Skin After a Few Weeks of This Stuff
So the changes were slow. Not overnight magic. After a week, the tight feeling after washing was just… gone. After two weeks, the flaky patch on my left cheekbone smoothed out. I didn’t even notice until I went to put on a little foundation and there was no dry patch to catch on it. Weird.
My hands. Okay, my hands were a disaster. Red, cracked knuckles from the cold dry air. I started using the tallow balm on them at night too. Just the leftovers from my face application, rubbed into my hands. I’d put on those cheap cotton gloves sometimes. Sometimes not. The cracks healed. Faster than with that thick, sticky ointment in the tube. It just… worked. My elbows are still a work in progress but they’re smoother. Not perfect. But better.
The best thing is I stopped thinking about my skin. It just became a non-issue. I do my little thing with the jar and I’m done. No more layering three different products hoping one of them works. It’s simple. I’m on my second jar now. I got one for my mom too because her skin gets dry and she’s skeptical of everything fancy. She texted me last week “what’s in that cream you sent me?” I told her. She hasn’t texted back. I think she’s using it.
Quick Questions I Get Asked
Is beef tallow good for your face?
Yeah, I think so. For me it is. The science-y reason is it’s similar to our skin’s own oils, so it absorbs and helps repair the barrier. My face stopped feeling like it was going to rip when I smiled. That’s proof enough for me.
Does tallow balm clog pores?
Hasn’t for me. And I can get clogged pores. It absorbs deep instead of sitting on top. If you’re really oily, maybe just use a tiny bit. But for dry or normal skin, it seems to just… melt in. No problems.
What does the pear tallow balm smell like?
It’s hard to describe. Not like a Jolly Rancher. It’s a soft, fresh smell. Like a ripe pear on a wooden table. Clean. Not overpowering. It fades pretty quick after you put it on. You mostly just smell… nothing. Which I like.
Anyway. If your skin is being difficult, especially in this stupid dry weather, it might be worth a shot. I didn’t expect much from a jar of whipped beef fat. But it just works. I don’t know what else to say. I’m probably gonna order another one soon.