Susannah’s Microcurrent Journey, Part 2 of a series

For context: I’m Susannah Nation, the new-ish owner of Moonstone Skincare, and formerly of Real Kind, the little Novato apothecary with the mosquito spray and kickass skincare products.

I lost 40 pounds with Wegovy—and now I’ve got loose skin, a complicated relationship with my mirror, and a renewed interest in building confidence.

So I’m strapping in (literally) for 8 microcurrent sessions in 24 days, the same 24 to Contour September challenge that we just opened up to our clients. I’m documenting all of it: the awkward photos, the weird muscle spasms, the wins, and the moments where I question all my life choices.

Let’s see what happens together.

Microcurrent Madness, Part 2: I Asked for This

You’d think after one round of having my abs involuntarily hijacked by a machine, I’d ease into my second session gently.

You’d be wrong.

This time, I walked in and told Hope I was ready to go harder. I was feeling bold. Brave. Slightly foolish. But mostly, I wanted to see what this machine could really do. So we breezed through the “Relax” and “Detox” settings—just five minutes each—before diving into the main event: “Build.”

Let’s back up.

During “Detox,” the sensation felt like a polite stomach growl crossed with mild bubble guts. Not painful, just… active. Like my belly was moving furniture around in there. Deep sensations. Not unpleasant, but definitely noticeable.

Then came “Build.” This is the setting that lifts, tones, and sculpts, all while you lie there doing literally nothing but trying not to bleat like a surprised goat.

Moonstone microcurrent 24 to Contour Challenge Novato skincare body sculpting video Susannah Nation

This time, I had Hope increase the contraction length to 4 seconds, with 2-second breaks between. That may not sound intense, but when you're lying on a heated table, belly exposed, and your core suddenly starts folding in on itself like an origami frog? It's a whole experience.

I had zero control over my muscles. None. Zilch. My abs were doing The Worm and I was just along for the ride. I recorded a few videos during this chaos, and while they are painfully awkward (or endearing, if you're my mom), I’m sharing one where my stomach moves exactly like a pregnant woman’s—if her baby were a very determined personal trainer.

And every five minutes, the machine beeps before bumping up the intensity. I now have a full-body stress response to that beepp. It’s not painful, but it is like someone announcing: “Brace yourself, your abdominal muscles are about to go full Cirque du Soleil.”

We did 15 minutes on “Build,” so I got two beeps and two intensity bumps. We didn’t film the final levels (honestly, you're welcome), but if you’ve ever wondered what a middle-aged woman in a sports bra being puppeteered by electricity looks like, your imagination will probably do just fine.

Afterward, my abs were still tingling like they'd just been on a rollercoaster. I wasn’t sore, but I felt like I should be eating a salad. Or drinking a green juice. Or at least skipping the potato chips for one single meal. It was giving post-gym vibes without any actual gym.

We’re going again tomorrow. Yes, willingly. And I plan to go even harder. If we remember, we’ll grab some more video.

If you have questions about how this works, what it feels like, or what else you want to see—photos, video, maybe an interpretive dance of what my abs are doing—drop a comment or send us a message. This is a weird and vulnerable journey, but you’ve all been so kind and supportive since I posted that bare-bellied pic on Facebook. I felt very exposed, very mom-bodied, and very seen. And not in a bad way.

More to come. More zaps. More honesty. Fewer potato chips. Probably.