Yesterday, I woke up with a feeling of heaviness, moodiness, a taunting dread. I just couldn’t get out of bed.
I did what any self-sabotaging creature of habit would do: grabbed my phone, opened Instagram, and started doomscrolling.
I know I’m headed for a bad start when I do this — and (wo)man, do I know it.
But I feel rebellious, so I keep doing it anyway.
Eventually, I manage to dramatically crawl out of bed in despair
(think: Renaissance paintings of women draped in bedsheets, hand delicately placed across the forehead, whispering “why me?”)
and I step into the shower.
Marvelous. I did it.
As I sit down at my vanity and begin my makeup routine,
I notice a certain… look in my eyes.
As though I was trying to “prove them wrong.”
But then I paused.
Who, really, was I trying to prove wrong?
Men? Haters? The patriarchy? Society?
Who was I blaming this time?
And for once, I realized… I was fighting my mind.
I wanted to prove my mind wrong.
My monkey mind, my lizard brain —
that part of me that spirals, imagines worst-case scenarios,
and drags me into the darkest mood in seconds.
So I grabbed the boldest lip color I own — deep, glossy, and sharp cherry red —
and I started lining my lips.
Hell, I overlined them slightly.
The moment I finished perfecting the look, it felt like armor.
My shield.
A protection from the voice in my head.
And for the rest of the day, every time I glanced in the mirror
and saw that perfectly untouched, unapologetically bold pigment (bless that 16HR longwear lipstick),
I remembered: even when my mind turns against me, I have rituals that bring me back.
Yes, some would say bold lipstick in broad daylight is “too much,”
or “not appropriate,”
or accuse it of being a performance.
But I don’t care.
Watch. Stare. Whisper if you must.
I see beauty as an act of resilience,
and that day, I was facing the war inside me.
Wearing that color called my confidence back to the surface —
confidence that had been hiding for days.
It took me three coats of coconut oil to rub it off that night.
But (wo)man, was it worth it.
Now, was this a story about needing makeup to feel confident?
Yes and no.
For me, that lipstick helped.
(By the way, it was the Maybelline Super Stay Vinyl Ink in the shade Wicked.)
But for you, it might be something else.
A specific perfume.
A soundtrack.
A pair of shoes.
A dress.
A sport.
It could be anything, really.
Just find it.
And when you do, use it like a promise to come home to yourself.