Unshaved legs in a swimsuit. For some, no big deal. For me, for years, unthinkable. Smooth legs were practically a prerequisite for swimsuit confidence. The razor was my loyal summer companion, banishing any hint of leg hair before beach days or pool parties. Then, one day, laziness (or maybe rebellion?) kicked in. I skipped shaving. … Read more
Gyms. Can be empowering, can be intimidating. For years, I felt muscle insecurity lurking in the weight room. Surrounded by sculpted physiques, I felt like I was constantly measuring up, or rather, not measuring up. My muscles? Seemed stubbornly resistant to definition. My strength gains? Slow and steady, but definitely not Instagram-worthy transformations. Then, one … Read more
Instagram. The highlight reel of seemingly perfect lives and, let’s be honest, heavily filtered bodies. Thighs. Instagram thighs. Smooth, toned, gap-tastic. Mine? Well, let’s just say they looked less like Instagram perfection and more like…real thighs. For years, the comparison game was brutal. Scrolling through endless images of seemingly flawless legs fueled a constant cycle … Read more
Scars. Often seen as blemishes, imperfections, marks to be hidden or erased. For years, I viewed mine with a mix of shame and annoyance, reminders of past injuries, surgeries, or simply clumsy moments. Then, I started to reframe them. To see them not as flaws, but as…chapters in my life story. Each scar had a … Read more
Photo filters. The digital plastic surgery of the selfie age. They can smooth skin, slim faces, and create an illusion of “perfection” that’s utterly unattainable in real life. For a while, I was hooked, addicted to the filtered version of myself, feeling increasingly dissatisfied with my actual face. Then, ironically, a filter helped me break … Read more
High school reunions. The ultimate body image pressure cooker. Years have passed, bodies have changed, and the fear of comparison hangs thick in the air. Facing my ten-year reunion 20 pounds heavier than my “peak” high school weight felt like walking into a judgment zone. The anxiety was real. Would people notice? Would they whisper? … Read more
Body shame often feels like a heavy cloak, weighing you down, dictating your wardrobe choices. For years, I dressed to hide, to camouflage, to minimize. Then, I stumbled upon an outfit that did the opposite. It wasn’t a miracle cure for body image issues, but it was a powerful turning point. It was a jumpsuit. … Read more
The scale. The tyrannical judge of self-worth. The digital dictator that dictated my mood, my food choices, and my entire day. For years, I was enslaved to those numbers, letting a fluctuating digit on a screen determine my happiness. Then, one particularly frustrating weigh-in, fueled by tears and a healthy dose of rage, I did … Read more
“You’re too skinny.” It’s often disguised as concern, but it stings just as much as comments about being “too big.” For years, my naturally slender frame was a source of insecurity. I was told I looked “fragile,” “sickly,” “underweight.” I tried eating more, lifting weights, desperately trying to bulk up to fit some arbitrary ideal … Read more
Cellulite. The cottage cheese curse. The dimpled demon that women are told to wage war against. For years, I hid mine under long pants, carefully chosen swimsuits, and a general air of avoidance. Summer dressing was a strategic operation, designed to minimize any glimpse of those dreaded bumps. Then, one scorching summer day, I just…couldn’t … Read more