Growing Pains & Making Gains
They tell you when you hit your 30’s, something changes within you—you really start figuring things out, learning your true self, and a sense of self-acceptance begins to settle in. But here I find myself (rapidly) approaching the midpoint of this decade of my life, constantly checking my watch, waiting for this cosmic shift to take place and … *tick tock tick tock* … nothing.
The truth is…the past two years I’ve been struggling. The grief over the loss of my pregnancy and of my furry soulmate, the year-long anxiety of doing a TV show (that I still feel I had no business doing), the depression over our ongoing infertility struggle—not to mention the trauma from this goddamn global pandemic—all have taken a toll on me mentally, emotionally, spiritually…and physically. Now, I should preface this by saying that being thin has never really been a goal at any point in my life (which is good, because tbh it’s just not in the genetic cards for me). My weight and size have fluctuated since middle school, and I’ve just ridden that wave and accepted every version that my body has presented over the years. But lately…I’ve felt like a stranger in my own skin, finding it nearly impossible to recognize my reflection or feel good in anything I put on my body.
“So I checked my bullshit with the bouncer, got myself a drink, and hit the dance floor with my friends.”
So you can imagine when the idea was proposed that we go out clubbing one night while we were in Vegas recently, I immediately dove headfirst into my private pool of self-pity. But I poked my head up out of the water long enough to feign an excitable “OK, let’s do it!” and proceeded to painstakingly pick something (anything) to wear that I would feel remotely good in. When we arrived at the club, I was quickly made aware of the key demographic—it was impossible to not notice the abundance of 22-year-olds in their tiny, sparkly dresses, 6-inch heels, and Insta-Influencer-level faces. Did I look cute? Sure. Was I still a tad (read: super) self-conscious at this point? Definitely. But…I made the decision right then that I was going to let all that go and just enjoy myself. So I checked my bullshit with the bouncer, got myself a drink, and hit the dance floor with my friends. And then, something amazing happened…
“I remember the days of my earlier years where I constantly felt like I had something to prove—like I had to be the prettiest or funniest or smartest or some combination of those things in order to stand out in a crowd.”
All of a sudden I found myself dancing…and laughing…and having the time of my life. And then I started to look around at these young women that had initially triggered my own insecurities and began to almost feel sorry for them. I watched as they teetered around in those ridiculous heels, pulling at their dresses, fussing with their hair, eyes shifting from one woman to the next as if they were taking some kind of hot-girl-inventory and doing the impossible math in their heads to determine how they stacked up against them. I recognized it because I used to be them.
“…not only is life better when you let go of your insecurities and allow yourself to fully and shamelessly experience the joys life has to offer but also when you do that, other people can see it and feel it.”
I remember the days of my earlier years where I constantly felt like I had something to prove—like I had to be the prettiest or funniest or smartest or some combination of those things in order to stand out in a crowd. And in that moment—as I sweatily twerked to Megan Thee Stallion—I realized that none of that mattered. In fact, we had several people approach us wanting to dance with us and buy us drinks with one man literally saying, “You are giving off a vibe that none of these young gals could even touch” (which he later followed up with a highly inappropriate and awkward marriage proposal, but that’s neither here nor there). But this isn’t about throwing shade at all the 20-somethings of the world (y’all continue living your best young-folx’ lives!) nor is it about seeking validation from strange men in a club (although words of affirmation are my love language, ijs). That night didn’t necessarily affect how I felt about myself, rather it validated the idea that not only is life better when you let go of your insecurities and allow yourself to fully and shamelessly experience the joys life has to offer but also when you do that, other people can see it and feel it.
It was also that night I realized that sure, maybe I’ve recently gained (ahem) a few pounds, but in the past two years I’ve also gained: emotional stability through consistent therapy, a stronger marriage and closer relationships, my own business and a passion for what I do, a great deal of wisdom and several life lessons, and 10 whole inches of hair (I mean, I’m allowed at least one frivolous gain, right?). Not to mention a body that has carried me through all the trials and tribulations I mentioned earlier along with countless others. Can I say that I have “officially arrived”? I wouldn’t just yet. But…I can certainly feel the c o s m o s s h i f t i n g, inching me closer to the next best version of myself—a version who fully accepts herself as-is, who experiences joy unabashedly, and who can still drop it like it’s hot…in sensible shoes…and I can’t wait to meet her.
