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I didn’t wake up deciding to be that girl. That would be too polished and too intentional for how my mind usually works. Honestly, I like a bit of chill chaos, and the rush of getting ready as quickly as possible, looking as simple as possible. Attention was something I avoided instead of wanted.
I walk up to the mirror and look at my reflection — just woken up before doing my makeup, and just enough to look presentable after I’m done.
Red lipstick always felt like it belonged to other people. Those who already know how to take up space, and those who look forward to seeing other people, instead of being on the low. It’s for those who don’t rehearse coffee orders and conversations in their head five times before saying hello.
For me, it felt like a statement I haven’t quite earned yet. But I bought one anyway, hoping that someday, just like the confidence of walking up to someone and starting a conversation, I decide to unconsciously put it on as part of my routine.
Maybe today is that day.
The first time I opened the tube, I remember hesitating longer than I should have. Maybe a minute or two is not a normal amount of time to be looking at an item that’s smaller than my palm. It looked almost unreal as I looked at it. The color was brighter than I expected, and for some weird reason, quite heavy for an item so small. After applying it, I almost wiped it off immediately. Almost.
I made it outside and the first few hours were strange. I could feel it more than I could see it — like a presence on my face I wasn’t used to carrying, and a feeling of having eyes on me that I wasn’t used to seeing. It was weird. I kept wondering if people noticed, and then immediately hoping they didn’t. I wasn’t suddenly confident. If anything, I was more aware and conscious of myself than usual.
But ever so slowly, as if like a flower beginning to blossom, something started to happen.
At some point in the day, I stopped checking my reflection on store windows and glass panels. I stopped anxiously adjusting my posture and rolling my shoulders every five minutes. I stopped asking myself if I looked “too much.” Deep down, I knew it wasn’t confidence yet, not the kind you identify with or name easily. I knew this wasn’t a radical, overnight transformation. It was more like a welcome pause in my endless cycle of self-correction.
I knew that’s when #ImWorthIt started to make sense in a way I didn’t expect. It wasn’t a loud affirmation, but something much softer. It was more of a reminder that self-worth isn’t something you unlock after becoming a different version of yourself. It can be something small that you carry with you, even in the moments you’re still unsure.
By the time I got home, the tint on my lips had faded unevenly, but I kept it on a little longer. For once, I wasn’t in a rush to take off the version of myself away. And maybe that’s what changed. I didn't magically become someone else. I simply allowed myself, even if briefly, to not disappear.
Tomorrow morning, when I look in the mirror before doing my makeup, I’m certain that the person staring back will know she is #ImWorthIt.
LIVE PH is a creative agency and lifestyle journal dedicated to the art of human experiences. From large-scale events to everyday moments, we create connections and tell stories that turn your everyday, eventful.
