The revenge glow-up is a scam (but I did it anyway)
And then, I just stood there, wondering how you can stop recognising someone you once loved so deeply - after only a few weeks. The song Somebody That I Used to Know has been looping in my head like a bad soundtrack. Fitting, sure. But still, incredibly fucking annoying.
Being in an unhealthy relationship feels a bit like repeating outfits and expecting people to keep complimenting them. But they don’t. Eventually, the comments stop - just like I stopped pointing out all the little things that made me feel unseen, unsupported, unwanted.
It’s strange how you end up negotiating your own boundaries. I used to say I’d never be with someone who couldn’t be intimate. Physically. Emotionally. Someone who wouldn’t even help clean the house. But somehow… I was. You ask him to do the laundry a couple of times. You put on sexy lingerie, get turned down a handful of times. And suddenly I’m begging a man to put his socks in the laundry basket and touch me like he means it.
Then one day you’re standing in front of the mirror in a stretched-out thong and a pizza-stained oversized T-shirt thinking: who the hell is she?
So naturally, I did what women have done for centuries: I staged a glow-up. Exfoliated. Booked a haircut I couldn’t afford. Bought a serum TikTok swore would fix me. Went to five stores, hated everything, cried in the Zara fitting room (seriously, whoever designed that lighting deserves jail). Posted a hot pic. Saged the house.
But here’s the thing: he might be doing the same thing. We’re both just trying to become someone the other used to know.A curated version for the outside world. I was always driven by love, hope, and far too many Pinterest quotes. He… I realised, was mostly fuelled by ego and convenience. Maybe he still is - just with more cheap validation and less hyaluronic acid.
And listen, I’m not innocent. I’ve thrown out my own little emotional grenades. Said things I shouldn’t have. I flirted in the hope it would spark something. Maybe just to be seen again. I held on to the idea of what he could be long after it stopped being real. But that’s the thing about illusions - they don’t break gently.
It’s like crying in a fitting room over feeling fat when, really, Zara’s sizing just sucks. One day you’re an XS, the next you’re squeezing into an L and wondering what’s wrong with you. But the problem isn’t your body. The problem is the standard. And maybe it’s the same with love.
I don’t recognise him anymore. But what if I never really did? What if I just wanted to believe I was the one who got to see a version of him no one else could? Maybe that version only existed because I brought it out. Because I believed in it. And now, his “glow-up” might just be what’s left when the pretending stops.
The real glow-up? It’s not the haircut or the hot pic. It’s the part where you stop trying to be someone they might want again and start remembering the version of you that never needed to shrink to fit.
Btw… here is my post-breakup haircut. Please tell me I look cute.
@lisainamsterdam When he cheats, we glow up ✨ #breakup #heartbreak #amsterdamlife #glowup #haircut ♬ original sound - nicole