THE GLOW-UP SERIES

I think it started the day I walked past a mirror and didn’t flinch. That was it. I didn’t love what I saw, I didn’t even like it, really. But I didn’t hate it. That was new.

People think glow-ups are loud, shiny things. But mine happened in the silences. In the unposted wins. In small moments that would never trend.

Like the first time I didn’t apologize for crying in front of someone.

Or the morning I washed my sheets just because I wanted to sleep in something clean—not because I was trying to “get my life together.”

The first time I said “I’m tired” and let that be the whole sentence. Not “I’m tired but it’s okay” or “I’m tired but I’ll push through.” Just, “I’m tired.”

The first time I left a voice note for a friend without rehearsing it.

The day I stopped ghosting people and started saying, “Hey, I’ve been struggling to keep up with conversations lately.”

The first time I looked at my own sadness and didn’t try to fix it right away. I just let it sit there with me. I let it breathe.

No one claps for that kind of growth.

There were no likes. No “omg you’ve changed so much!!” comments. Just me, slowly becoming someone softer. Someone more honest. Someone a little less afraid of being seen.

Glow-ups no one talks about look like learning how to breathe through a panic attack without hiding in the bathroom.

They look like taking your meds on time even when no one reminds you.

They look like texting someone back even though your brain tells you not to.

They look like setting a boundary and not explaining yourself into guilt afterward.

Mine looked like going to bed at 9:45 p.m. because my body asked me to.

It looked like saying “no” without a fake excuse.

It looked like eating a full meal on a bad day instead of skipping it out of spite.

It wasn’t glamorous. It wasn’t the kind of transformation that gets attention. But it saved me.

The glow-up I went through didn’t come with new clothes or a better skincare routine. It came with growing into my body, not shrinking it. With realizing I don’t need to earn rest. With understanding that healing is not a destination, it’s a way of walking. Some days slow. Some days backward. But still walking.

There were still bad days, of course. Still breakdowns. Still stretches of time where I slipped into old habits and old sadness like it was a familiar hoodie. But even then, I knew I wasn’t the same.

Because now I noticed.

Now I paused before spiraling.

Now I had a voice in my head that sounded like care instead of criticism.

I started talking to myself the way I talk to my best friend. I stopped being so damn cruel. I let myself off the hook for things that were never my fault to begin with. And when I messed up, I tried again instead of tearing myself apart.

There was no timeline. No checklist. Some of the glow-up happened over months. Some overnight. Some only after years of repeating the same lesson until it finally landed.

But slowly, I started to feel like someone I wouldn’t mind being around.

And that… that felt like magic. Like the kind of glow no ring light could ever give me.

The world claps for confidence, for achievement, for beauty. But I’m clapping for myself for not giving up. For waking up even when I didn’t want to. For showing up to my life—not because I always felt good—but because I deserved to try.

That’s the glow-up no one talks about. The kind that doesn’t show, but changes everything.

And I’m proud of her. I’m proud of me.