Bernard O'Shea: Yes, it's a bit mad, but here's why I love facial yoga

Bernard O'Shea. Photograph Moya Nolan

While navigating the digital ocean of skincare routines, I stumbled upon a hidden treasure trove: facial yoga. 

It promised a natural way to keep my face's narrative youthful and vibrant but I ended up meeting one of the nicest lads in a bathroom. 

My journey into facial yoga started with a blend of scepticism and curiosity. "Is it possible that these facial contortions could hold the secret to a youthful appearance?"

My first stop was to unearth the research behind facial yoga. A study by Northwestern University USA caught my eye. 

It revealed that a 30-minute daily or alternate-day facial exercise program conducted over 20 weeks can enhance the facial appearance of middle-aged women, resulting in fuller upper and lower cheeks and a more youthful look.

This research is the first to scientifically investigate the potential of facial exercises for improving appearance.

Lead author Dr Murad Alam suggests that this study provides initial evidence that facial exercises can reduce visible signs of ageing by strengthening facial muscles, leading to increased firmness and tone.

Middle-aged women aged 40 to 65 participated in the study, receiving 90-minute training sessions and continuing exercises at home. 

They practised daily for 30 minutes for the first eight weeks, followed by alternate-day sessions for the next 12 weeks. 

This reveals that regular facial exercises could lead to a younger appearance. So, contorting your face could be the fountain of youth.

Facial yoga isn't a product of modern whims. It's deeply rooted in ancient wellness practices from cultures like India and China, where facial exercises have been a part of holistic health for centuries. Our ancestors were pioneers in facial fitness.

Eager to start, I learned that facial yoga is more than just random facial movements – it's an art and a science.

My first attempt at practising these exercises was the 'Smiling Sphinx' (Smile gently while pressing your fingertips against your cheekbones.) Then followed "The Puzzled Frown" (Knit your brows as if deeply contemplating life's mysteries). 

I did these two exercises 30 seconds on and off for 30 minutes. At this point, it's best to do it on your own. If someone sees you, they might think you are pissed off with them, leading to a vast array of social rabbit holes.

I anticipated physical changes but was unprepared for the psychological effects. Each facial pose felt like a release valve for pent-up emotions. It's a forced acting class for your jowls. 

As I went through every stretch and pout (you'll find a lot of practitioners on YouTube). It genuinely felt like I was releasing tension through my face instead of my mouth, which has obvious drawbacks.

It was mentioned several times in various blogs that facial moves should be practised in front of the mirror. But it was here where it took a surprising turn for me. 

I looked at my face correctly. I began to see every line and grey hair. Every blotch and scar. Before long, I started talking to myself.

It wasn't about blowing kisses or flexing my muscles in front of the mirror. It morphed into checking in with myself and understanding myself. It wasn't highly convoluted, like acceptance of oneself or anything like that, but more like a self-check-in.

There were days when I'd look in the mirror and see my worries and anxieties staring back at me. I started using the bathroom mirror to help me deal with daily stressors and my own emotions. 

Instead of seeking distractions outside myself, I used the mirror to confront my feelings head-on. It was like conversing with myself but without all the talking.

My wife asked me, "Who are you talking to in the bathroom?", and I told her how my facial yoga voyage has expanded into, let's call it, my "reflective sessions". 

She asked, "So you're being a bit narcissistic?" I wasn't looking for validation or any good or bad comments. But I will tell you this: when someone says to you, "You should take a good look at yourself", it works.

Yes, it sounds mad, and maybe I am, but try it. Go to the bathroom after you read this. Look at yourself and ask yourself, "How are you today?" 

Now that I see it written down in black and white, it is a bit mad. Who cares.