stfu Regina George

Hello gorgeous. Grab a blanket and a latte, get cozy and let's catch up, shall we?

9/10 times I look in the mirror and my reflection says something rude back at me. My internal Regina George reminds me that I’m just not quite thin enough, that my nails aren’t #goals, my skin isn’t “glossy” enough (whatever the fuck that means). I sigh, nod in agreement with my internal mean girl and feel tired.

I’m sick of the tired.

We are receiving near constant feedback that we are just not good enough. Not fit enough, healthy enough, our skin isn’t glowy or dewy or matte or however the fuck it’s supposed to be in Feb of 2019, I can’t keep up. We need a serum, a new gym, a rose quartz roller thing to, uh, roll our faces? Really?!

The messages say we need to wake up at 5 am to make a green smoothie and meditate. Fuck, maybe we do, but the stress of being bullied into it by an industry that is far more interested in our wallets than our wellbeing is kinda bullshit.

Looking in the mirror and saying “I like the way I look” is a profound act of rebellion in a society designed to make us hate ourselves.

Today, maybe just for a moment, we should try.

Do whatever you need to do to feel sexy. Inject things into your face, go flip over truck tires, Sephora it up, or do absolutely nothing at all. I’m not here to judge. We perform our identity, and we deserve to choose how that performance looks.

I am here to cheer you on, and to prod you, ever so delicately, to be a bit more gentle with yourself. We’re lucky to have vessels to bob around this weird life in— we should treat them with care and love, not disdain. You deserve to talk to yourself with overwhelming love and admiration, so give it a go. I'll try it too, so now we're in it together. This morning let's stand in front of the mirror, take a deep breath, and tell our personal Regina Georges to stfu.