The Day I Wore Glitter and Didn’t Apologize

It started with a tube of glitter eyeshadow—tiny, unapologetically shiny, and just sitting there in the bottom of my drawer like a dare I hadn’t yet taken. I bought it on a whim months earlier, probably during one of those fleeting moments of online confidence. You know the kind: inspired by a bold stranger in a tutorial or the idea that maybe, just maybe, you could sparkle too.

Most days, I left it untouched. Too loud. Too young. Too much. But on that day—when everything felt dull and tight and grown-up in all the wrong ways—I reached for it. And something shifted.

Not a Costume, a Declaration

Let’s be clear: I wasn’t heading to a party. There was no festival, no themed event, no “acceptable” excuse for sparkle. I was going to the grocery store. Maybe the post office. Just a Tuesday with errands.

But that swipe of glitter on my eyelids? It wasn’t decoration—it was defiance. A rebellion against beige days and apologetic fashion. Against the idea that visibility requires justification. I wasn’t trying to be noticed, not really. I was trying to feel seen—by myself.

The Stares, and the Surprises

Did people look? Of course. Glitter catches light, and attention follows. There were glances: a few confused, one amused, and—my favorite—a child who beamed at me like we shared a secret. That moment? Worth every second of self-doubt.

But here’s the surprise: no one said anything negative. No one demanded I tone it down. Most people just moved along with their day, proving a theory I didn’t even realize I was testing—that maybe the limits I’d imagined were mostly mine.

Shedding the Need to Shrink

Growing up, many of us—especially those who identify as women or femme-presenting—are taught the art of shrinking. Make yourself agreeable. Palatable. Don’t be too loud, or bold, or sparkly. But glitter doesn’t shrink. It insists on being noticed. It doesn’t ask permission.

That day, wearing it, I realized how often I’d diluted myself to fit into other people’s comfort zones. And how liberating it was to take up space—not in volume, but in presence. In shimmer. In color. In daring to be the opposite of subtle.

More Than Makeup

The glitter wore off eventually. I washed it away that night, but something lingered. A residue of confidence, maybe. Or a reminder that joy doesn’t need to be earned. That you don’t have to wait for special occasions to express something bold or beautiful. Sometimes the most ordinary day is the perfect canvas for something extraordinary.

Since then, I’ve reached for the glitter more often. Not every day, but more than never. And each time, it feels like an offering to the self I often hide—a promise to show up fully, even when no one’s watching.