BOLD: Three friends. One bold trip. And a version of me I hadn’t met yet

BOLD: Three friends. One bold trip. And a version of me I hadn’t met yet

I didn’t plan this trip out of excitement. In fact, I almost said no. The idea of traveling across the world to a country where I didn’t speak the language, didn’t know the customs, and didn’t know how I’d be received had me tangled in quiet anxiety.

I was worried about everything — my looks, my weight, my fitness, my skin, my safety. Even my why.
But my friends were going for a beauty-focused trip — consultations, treatments, healing, indulgence — and something in me whispered:
“You deserve to come, too.”


Choosing Myself in Spite of the Fear

Traveling to Korea was bold — but not in the way people think.
It wasn’t about bravery. It was about vulnerability. About being willing to show up in a foreign place exactly as I was: imperfect, uncertain, and maybe a little in need of rest I hadn’t yet named.

I said yes.
And the moment I landed in Seoul, something shifted.

The heat was intense. The city was humming. I was tired but alert in a way that felt… sacred. Like my body knew this was a reset.

The First Few Days: Beauty, Recovery & Airbnb Vibes

We stayed in a cozy Airbnb while one of my friends recovered from her procedure. Those early days were busy — consults, appointments, navigating transit, trying to order food with Google Translate. But there was magic in the mess.

The three of us found rhythm in the unfamiliar. We shared skincare routines and late-night tea. We laughed until we cried. We compared beauty notes across cultures. And without realizing it, my guard started to lower.

In a city I once feared I’d stand out in, I was actually blending in… by showing up as myself.

What I Learned Before We Even Started Sightseeing

  • Boldness isn’t performance — it’s presence.
  • You can hold doubt and still move forward.
  • You don’t have to be 100% ready to say yes.
  • Going on a “beauty trip” doesn’t mean chasing perfection — it can mean rediscovering softness.

What I feared might highlight my insecurities ended up reconnecting me to care. Not aesthetic care — but intentional care. The kind that says: “I’m worth this. As I am. Right now.”

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