There’s a voice that’s been with me most of my life. She’s sharp, relentless, and knows exactly where to hit. She criticizes my appearance, and questions my worth. She’s rude, condescending, and- if I’m being honest – downright cruel. 

She’s never been a friend, but she’s always been familiar.

And her name? The Mean Girl.

And yes—she lives in my own head.

She tells me I’m not doing enough. Not working hard enough. Not parenting well enough. She mocks me for my thighs and my cellulite and the fact that I need a nap in the middle of the day. She’s been around during dressing room meltdowns, fitness classes, social gatherings, even while scrolling Instagram. But the place where she’s most aggressive—her absolute Olympic event—is bathing suit shopping.

For years, I let her win.

She’d tell me I couldn’t wear that. That I should cover up. That I needed to “fix” myself before I deserved joy, connection, or ease. I’ve walked out of stores empty-handed, in tears, and I’ve skipped experiences I would have loved, just to avoid the chance of being seen—literally or emotionally.

But something shifted.

Maybe it’s age, therapy, parenting, or the sheer exhaustion of constantly being in battle with myself. Maybe it’s watching clients do this same dance and realizing: this internal bullying isn’t honesty—it’s harm. And it doesn’t motivate. It isolates.

So this time, when the dreaded day came to replace my old, worn bathing suit, I decided I was doing it differently. Not because I’d finally “arrived” at a version of myself I loved unconditionally. But because I’m tired of waiting to live my life until I meet some made-up criteria of worthiness.

I walked into the store with a mantra:

“Be kind. Be kind. Be kind.”

Yes, it felt ridiculous at first. Yes, I muttered it out loud like a woman on the edge (bless that sales associate). And no, it didn’t magically make every bathing suit fit perfectly or every old thought disappear.

 

But it helped. It softened the voice. It gave me just enough space to hear something else—something more true.

 

I tried on suit after suit. Some looked terrible. A couple were okay. And then—one felt… right. Not perfect. Not transformative. Just right enough. I looked in the mirror and, instead of bracing for the attack, I said: “That looks nice.” It shocked me to hear it out loud. It felt like a quiet win.

Until I got to the register. This has always been Mean Girl’s moment. The part where she humiliates me in front of strangers, criticizes the size on the tag, and reminds me I don’t belong. I could feel her presence starting to rise up. 

But I kept whispering:

“Be kind. Be compassionate. You’re allowed to be here.” And then, in a moment I’ll never forget, I didn’t shrink.I looked at the cashier, held my ground, and said: “You know what? I’ll take it in hot pink too.”

In a world constantly telling us to improve, shrink, tighten, and fix ourselves, learning to be kind to ourselves isn’t fluff. It’s radical. It’s resistance. It’s necessary. Especially in the summer season when so many of us feel exposed—not just physically, but emotionally.

And if your Mean Girl is still hanging around? That’s okay. She might not go away completely. But you can turn down her volume. You can interrupt her script. And you can replace her voice with one that’s far more accurate and far more supportive.

Because you are not your body’s critic. You are not the worst thing you’ve ever thought about yourself. You are someone who is allowed to be seen—as you are.

Bathing suit and all.

 Love,