I wish I had a different story. I really do. But here’s the truth I wish I’d read before I booked it.
I’m not a doctor. This is just what happened to me.
If you’d like a plain-language look at how RF devices are engineered and the safety specs that matter, this short explainer from Airtronics is a solid place to start. They also share another personal account of RF gone wrong that hits close to home.
Why I tried it (and why I rushed)
I had two weddings and a work photo shoot last summer. I’m on Zoom all day. I saw before-and-afters for radio frequency treatments like Thermage and Morpheus8. Tight skin. Clean jawline. No big downtime. It sounded perfect. The med spa looked fancy. White walls. Soft music. Everyone wore cute scrubs. I felt safe.
They told me: “You’ll be a little puffy, then you’ll look great.” I nodded. I paid. Honestly, I wanted the glow without the wait.
The first session: hot pins and a brave face
My first treatment was Morpheus8 in June. Face and neck. About 45 minutes. They used numbing cream that smelled like mint and plastic. The device felt like a stamp with tiny needles and heat. Not awful, but sharp in some spots—under the eyes, along the jaw. I gripped the stress ball like a champ. I even cracked a joke. Why do we do that?
Funny enough, I once clung to tech gear the same way during a long-term review where I wore a headset with a radio for months—but even that felt easier than this.
Price: $1,600. I swallowed hard and told myself, “It’s an investment.” Yep, I used that word.
Day 1 to Day 7: the fake good part
Right after, I was swollen. Red dots all over. I looked like I’d hugged a waffle iron. Ice packs, gentle cleanser, lots of Aquaphor. Day two, I wore a mask to the store and no one stared. Day three, makeup covered most of it. My skin looked smooth from the swelling, which felt like a magic trick. I took selfies. I thought, “This works.”
You know what? That part fooled me.
Week 3: the shift I didn’t expect
Around week three, my cheeks looked… flatter. Not tighter. Flatter. Like someone let out the air. My under eyes started to sink. A little valley formed near my nose. I blamed bad sleep. Salt. Anything else. I drank more water. I added collagen powder to my coffee. I told myself it would “kick in.”
Scrolling one late night, I landed on a cosmetic surgeon’s candid post titled “Morpheus8 Ruined My Skin”—every line echoed exactly what I was starting to see in the mirror.
I still booked a second session in August because the package was “better value.” It felt like I had to keep going to get the result I wanted. I wish I paused.
During those dizzy late-night searches for “one more secret discount,” I even stumbled across a classified-style directory called MegaPersonals that bundles local listings, candid reviews, and unfiltered customer feedback—you can skim it to see what real people are saying about clinics (and plenty of other services) before you hand over your credit card.
In a similar vein, I clicked through a hyper-local bulletin on Bedpage—specifically the Ridgewood section—at Bedpage Ridgewood where neighborhood users post raw, boots-on-the-ground feedback about everything from med-spa promos to who’s worth avoiding; spending five minutes there can arm you with crowd-sourced intel long before a slick marketing brochure gets the chance to sway you.
That mindset of piling on sessions echoed my old field test where I wore three radio harnesses so you don’t have to—I learned then that more gear doesn’t always equal better performance.
Session two: the point of no return
Same spa. Same device. More passes on my jaw and under eyes because that’s what I asked to fix. I didn’t know that heat can affect fat under the skin. I wish someone had said, “Hey, that puff you like? That’s your face’s padding. Be careful.”
Two weeks later, my temples dipped. My smile lines went deeper. My mom asked if I was sick. My coworker pinged me, “Are you okay? You look tired on camera.” I cried in my car. Not a pretty cry. The kind with hiccups.
What it felt like to live in my face
Makeup sat weird. Blush didn’t blend because there was less cushion. Sunglasses left dents. The odd pressure points flashed me back to the time I wore three radio earpieces on real jobs and learned how small devices can leave big marks. My skin felt tight but not firm—like a drum with thin skin. I avoided photos. I pulled my hair forward. I wore hoodies in August. I know that sounds dramatic. But your face is your face. It’s how people see you. It’s how you see you.
What I did next (and what actually helped a bit)
- I saw a board-certified derm. She said, “It looks like fat loss.” That hurt to hear, but it also gave me a name for it.
- I tried hyaluronic acid filler in my cheeks and a tiny bit in my temples. Cost was about $1,200. It helped some lift, but not the softness I had before. Filler can’t replace what heat took evenly.
- I focused on skin health only: sunscreen, gentle cleanser, moisturizer, sleep, easy walks. No more heat devices. No more “quick fixes.” I needed calm.
Slowly, over months, it looked a little better. Not the same. Better than the worst.
What I wish I knew before I said yes
- Swelling can look like a “result.” It fades.
- Heat near thin areas (under eyes, temples) can reduce the fat that gives a soft face. Not for everyone, but it can happen. It did to me.
- More sessions aren’t always smarter. I should’ve waited, watched, and asked more questions.
- A fancy spa doesn’t mean it’s safe for your goals. Ask who sets the energy levels. Ask how they choose spots. Ask what happens if things go wrong. Ask for real photos in harsh light.
For anyone still considering it, read this practical primer on ways to prevent Morpheus8’s potential risks so you know exactly what safeguards to insist on before letting any device touch your skin.
I’m not saying RF is bad for all people. Some folks love it. My friend got Thermage in 2021 and looks great. But our faces, genes, and goals are different.
The small wins I’ll take
- Sunscreen every day. It sounds boring, but my skin tone is more even now.
- Gentle retinoid twice a week. Slow and steady. No racing.
- Strength training. Odd, I know, but feeling strong helped my mood while my face felt strange.
Would I do it again?
No. Not for my face. Not with my features. If I could go back, I’d start with skin basics and a good camera angle for Zoom. Silly? Maybe. But free, and kind to me.
Final takeaway I tell anyone who asks
If you’re thinking about radio frequency for your face, talk with a skilled medical pro who will explain risks in plain words. Bring your real, unfiltered photo in daylight. Say what you fear, not just what you want. And then give yourself time—because patience costs less than regret. Do your homework first—even a quick scan of a case study where someone tried a bunch of radios so you don’t have to can show how thorough testing beats blind faith.
Radio frequency didn’t just miss the mark for me. It changed my face in ways I didn’t want. I’m learning to accept it. Some days are good. Some days I still hide. But I’m sharing this so you have the story I needed before I signed the form.