She Stole My Skincare for Weeks—So I Gave Her a Lesson She’d Never Forget
After years of putting me down, my sister-in-law moved into our house—and I knew karma was about to step in. But I never thought she’d mess with my skincare routine. What happened to her face the next morning? I’ll never forget it.
Let me start from the beginning. I’m not the kind of woman who enjoys putting others down. I believe in building people up, not tearing them apart. My friends always call me a “girl’s girl”—the kind who shows up with chocolate when your day’s falling apart, not someone who gossips behind your back.
I really believe women should support each other. Life’s hard enough without us making it harder.
That’s one of the things I loved most about my husband, Arnold. He’s kind. Always speaks well of others, and treats everyone with respect. We met two years ago and got married just one year later. Honestly? Life was beautiful. We didn’t argue or compete. We were a real team.
But then Janice entered the picture.
Janice is married to Arnold’s older brother, Ben. I’d heard about her long before I met her. But no story could have prepared me for the real Janice.
It started six months ago when I hosted a family dinner. I was nervous and wanted to make a good impression. I spent days cleaning, cooking, even decorating with fresh flowers.
Then Janice walked in like a judge on a home makeover show. Her nails were flawless, her hair perfect, and her purse looked like it cost more than our mortgage.
She looked around and said, “Oh, this is so cute! Like… dollhouse cozy. Must be fun playing real life in such a tiny space!”
I felt my face heat up, but I smiled. I wasn’t going to start a fight.
At dinner, it only got worse.
“Amelia, you’d look so much more awake with a proper concealer,” she said, looking at my face. “That one just has such… drugstore energy. Bless your heart for trying though.”
Arnold squeezed my hand under the table. His jaw was tight, but we had agreed to keep the peace. Arnold and Ben were close. I didn’t want to create drama.
So, I smiled. I talked about the weather.
But Janice wasn’t finished. She picked on everything—my cooking, my decorations, even our secondhand furniture.
By the time she left, I was exhausted.
“That was…” Arnold started.
“Awful,” I said. “She tore apart everything about me.”
“I’m so sorry, babe. I didn’t know she was like that.”
Unfortunately, that was just the beginning.
I decided not to fight fire with fire. I smiled through her snide comments. When she said my outfit was “brave” or my house was “quirky,” I nodded politely.
But every comment stung.
After family gatherings, I’d catch myself in the mirror wondering, Does my makeup really look that bad? Is our house that small and sad?
Arnold would hug me and say, “Don’t let her get to you. She’s insecure.”
“I know. But why does she have to be so mean? We’re supposed to be family.”
Still, I stuck to kindness.
Until three weeks ago, when Ben called in a panic.
Their apartment building had flooded. They needed a place to stay.
Arnold looked at me. “Can they stay here for a few days?”
Every part of me wanted to scream no. But instead, I said, “Of course they can stay.”
So Janice and Ben moved into our guest room—what she called “indoor camping.” Seriously.
At first, it was manageable. Ben was great—he helped cook and clean. But Janice treated our home like a free hotel.
That’s when I noticed something strange.
My moisturizer was running out faster. My expensive eye cream was half gone. The vitamin C serum I’d been rationing looked like someone had been bathing in it.
At first, I thought I was imagining it.
Then I caught her.
One morning after my shower, I walked into the bathroom and found Janice standing in front of the mirror. She was using my $80 retinol serum like it was free lotion.
“Janice?” I said, clutching my towel.
She jumped. “Oh! Amelia! I just… ran out of mine and borrowed a little. You don’t mind, right?”
I stared at her. “That’s a really expensive serum… and it’s made for my skin type.”
She blinked at me. “What? No, I wouldn’t just take your stuff! I have my own products.”
Really? Because I never saw a single bottle of hers.
Every day, more of my products disappeared. And every time I asked, she said, “I’d never use your stuff without asking. I have my own.”
Then, the final straw.
During dinner one night, Janice had the nerve to say, “Bless your heart, Amelia. You’re so brave using such basic skincare. I could never sacrifice my skin like that.”
That did it.
That night, I made a plan.
I grabbed an old serum bottle from the back of my cabinet. I washed it out and filled it with something special—a prescription keratosis treatment. My dermatologist gave it to me for a patch on my elbow. It wasn’t dangerous, but it burned like fire if used on normal skin.
The next morning, I placed it carefully on the bathroom shelf. Right where she’d find it.
And then I waited.
I was sipping coffee in the kitchen when I heard a scream.
“OH MY GOD! WHAT IS HAPPENING TO MY FACE?!”
Janice ran in, red-faced and panicked. Her skin was blotchy and looked like she had lost a fight with the sun.
“Amelia!” she cried. “Something’s wrong! My face is burning!”
I looked up calmly. “Oh no! Did you try a new product?”
She fanned her face. “I just used that little glass bottle. I thought it was, like, for everyone!”
I sipped my coffee. “Oh honey… that’s a prescription treatment. Super strong. Not for regular skin.”
Her eyes went wide. “Why didn’t you label it?!”
I smiled sweetly. “Well, maybe just don’t use other people’s stuff without asking?”
Janice blinked. Her face stung and so did the realization: I knew the whole time.
She stormed off to wash her face.
The rest of their stay was… quiet. Janice didn’t touch anything. No more snarky comments. No more judging my house or my outfits.
When they finally moved back into their apartment, Ben thanked us over and over. He had no clue what had gone down in our bathroom.
Arnold put his arm around me as we watched them leave.
“You look pretty pleased with yourself,” he said with a smile.
I grinned. “I have no idea what you mean. I’m just glad we could help family in need.”
Sometimes, karma just needs a gentle push.
And sometimes? That push comes in a tiny glass bottle.