sure. wait. what?

THE MORNING after one of my many crying fits in April, I woke up looking exactly how I felt. 

My eyes were swollen, and the dark circles underneath hung low and heavy. My face, worn down and drooping with exhaustion, bore an unmistakable texture of sadness, so I knew there was no way I could go into the office that day without inviting questions from my coworkers.

To avoid unnecessary conversations at work, I put extra effort into grooming myself that morning. I brushed my hair and I put on makeup: concealer under my eyes, foundation all over my face, eyeliner on my lids to make my eyes look bigger, and blush on my cheeks for the illusion of bloom and joy. I even wore a fitted long sleeved blouse that matched my tapered navy blue pants, plus my favorite black Chelsea boots.

Fortunately the masquerade worked. Nobody asked if I was sick or sad, but instead of being ignored as usual, I noticed more people looking at me as I passed them in the hallways or walked into the large kitchen area.

I also had lunch plans with another team that day, and as I approached two people from that team waiting in the building lobby, they stopped mid conversation to look at me. One of them even said that I looked “so good, so put together.”

After work, I went to a makeup store near the office to look for a new lipstick. I bought a Flower Knows lip cream, and the red-haired cashier told me that my glasses matched my face well. Random, but okay. Of course I took the compliment. 

Thing is, I kinda liked the compliments — or is that too embarrassing to admit? 

But I do, I really do. More than the compliments though, I like how I feel when I leave the house not looking like a zombie who just rolled out of bed. 

So for the past couple of weeks, I’ve been wearing makeup to work and putting more effort into the clothes I wear. It feels good, honestly. There’s a light spring in my step when I walk, I feel a little more cheerful, and I think I even smile more. 

I guess it pays to give a shit about how you look sometimes, especially when Life is running on Hard Mode. These little rituals I do in the morning like putting on makeup and choosing an outfit I like make me feel grounded again — is this…self-care? Is this what people have been talking about all along?

This isn’t to say that make-up and clothes et cetera are the panacea to our ailments, of course. I still cry myself to sleep sometimes. Changing my morning routine has not magically erased my woes, but it helps. It helps me, specifically, because these tiny acts remind me that despite the drama of it all, I am still worth taking care of, worth nurturing. And sometimes, not always, but sometimes, that reminder is enough to get me through the day.

Anyway, I don’t know what you do to boost your mood, dear reader, but I hope you are well. Wear something nice, brush your hair, spritz on some cologne — go and make it a good day, will you?