The (Not So) Perfect Body: Flaws Are Superpowers

How to Stop Hating Your Body and Start Loving What It’s Actually Doing (Spoiler: It's More Than You Think)

The concept of body positivity can feel like a bit of a dichotomy for me. On one hand, I don’t believe in celebrating obesity or promoting unhealthy practices that can harm our bodies in the long run. Yet, on the other hand, I absolutely believe we should celebrate the diversity of body shapes and sizes and, most importantly, learn to love and care for ourselves as we are.

This balancing act isn't about promoting unhealthy habits, but rather embracing the idea that every body is unique and worthy of love, respect, and care. It's about recognizing that self-worth doesn’t come from a number on a scale or fitting into a certain mold, but from nurturing our bodies in ways that empower us to thrive—whatever shape or size we may be.

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You mean I wasn’t supposed to magically lose 20 pounds by the end of week two of this dumb program? Shocking, I know.
I was really hoping for an Instagram-perfect transformation with a side of kale smoothies and maybe a new six-pack. But here I am—still holding onto my love handles like they’re old friends who refuse to leave. Classic.

Look, here’s the reality: Do I wish my stomach was flatter? Sure. Do I wish I didn’t feel like a deflated balloon when I’m walking around without clothes on? Absolutely. But let’s be real—I’ve grown several humans. I’m basically a walking miracle of biology. The kind of biological masterpiece that would make even The Rock do a double-take. My body wasn’t made to look “sexy” for the next app ad. It was made to nurture life, like a loving, imperfect, slightly squishy nest. Not a glossy magazine cover.

Remember that scene in “The Princess Diaries” when Mia finds out she’s a princess and looks at her reflection?
Yeah, that’s how I feel every time I look in the mirror—it’s a work in progress, but I’ll take it.

Now, let’s rewind to my eating disorder days, shall we? Back when I was 120 pounds, and people would say stuff like, “I wish I looked like you.” And I’d just nod and think, “Well, if you want to eat three bags of Doritos a day and somehow pretend it’s fine, go ahead.” But spoiler alert: It wasn’t fine. I was playing dress-up with my mental health, hiding behind a “perfect” body, but inside? I was a hot mess. It’s like I was wearing a crown made of broken dreams. But we all know that royalty is all about the façade.

It’s time to stop focusing on what you don’t like and start appreciating all the amazing things your body is actually doing. 💪❤️ #BodyPositivity #GratefulForMyBody

And here’s a little twist—remember that scene in “Clueless” where Cher’s like, “I totally paused, like, for a moment… And, uh, I didn’t look like an idiot!”
Well, that was me, except instead of looking like an idiot, I was just a walking, talking emotional wreck disguised as a healthy person. I was a wellness disaster wearing skinny jeans. Not cute.

But through therapy—yay for real help, am I right?—I started unpicking the mess I created. It was exhausting, like trying to untangle a knot that somehow ended up in my entire life, and by the end of it, I was ready to scream “Uncle!” But here I am. Healing. And, no, it didn’t happen overnight. But I'm getting there, people. And on the way, I learned to have a better relationship with food… though let’s be clear, I still catch myself eyeing the last cookie like it’s the final rose on The Bachelor. Maybe just one more? You had me at chocolate chips.

And can we talk about boudoir shoots for a second? Yeah, I did that. And no, I’m not talking about a cute little “photo shoot for fun.” I’m talking about a “let’s get uncomfortable and possibly need a drink to survive” boudoir shoot. A glass of wine might’ve been involved—but hey, liquid courage is a thing, right? Spoiler alert: I still looked hot.