A Pep Talk For Summer
I signed up for headshots while I'm in Palm Springs at an amazing conference at the end of the month. Today, Kate and I met up to shoot some content for an upcoming giveaway (yes, purposeful teaser.)
I spiraled about both before I even opened my closet. What am I going to wear? What fits? What looks good? Thoughts about all the body parts I currently "hate," are my bangs going to participate — because my bangs are only cool when they're perfect. (I exhaust myself.)
It got me thinking about this summer, and that's when the high key panic started to enter the chat.
I've never been a fashion forward girly. Jeans, t-shirts, sweatshirts, and sneakers. In my twenties I was fit and dressing felt easier, but barely.
Honestly, my body dysmorphia was probably at its highest when I was at my fittest. Like most things, I hid it well on the outside. Inside, the insecurity was nearly deafening. Those closest to me know far too well the "does this make me look fat?" "But are you sure?" "What about this?" (as I pinched what I deemed was more belly fat than acceptable.)
I would literally check my belly in bathroom mirrors. If there was a mirror, there was a good chance I lifted up my shirt and did a "skinny check." It was compulsive. And looking back, sad.
They say when you're happy and in love you gain weight. Thanks, Tone.
My current weight, my current body, has been a slow burn. And even though my body dysmorphia isn't at its peak, my weight is — and the insecurity is alive and well. Which brings me to the actual whole point of this essay.
We are currently approaching Virginia summer. A combination of beautiful days mixed with hot, sticky, humid grossness (aka swamp ass).
Fortunately, I live in coastal Virginia and am blessed with access to the Atlantic Ocean, the Chesapeake Bay, and a collection of rivers for some reprieve.
Unfortunately, you typically wear a bathing suit in water.
In the summer, fashion becomes more about functionality than anything else, and I dread that intersection. Because the body is just more... out there.
So here's the message.
IT'S TOO HOT. WHO FUCKING CARES.
If you do care, stop. (she says to herself, over and over)
And if you're someone who judges others for what they wear, also stop. Don't be that person. That person sucks.
This summer, I want all of us to embrace feeling at ease. In whatever ways we can.
Like wearing the shorts because it's 90 degrees with a heat index of 1 million due to the humidity. Literally, pants might kill you.
It's finding the bathing suit that makes you feel the best about yourself. And as I type this, I also want to note — comfort includes your tribe. Because the right people are going to help you feel comfortable in your own skin too.
We aren't hiding this summer. We are going to live our lives, not live inside our heads. We are going to be present in our bodies, not at war with them.
So from me to you, and from me to me —
Fuck it. Send it.
Ps: using a picture that makes me want to bury my head in the sand and hide for some exposure therapy. Putting myself out there so you have the courage to do the same.
