I wasn’t feeling great. And I didn’t make it any better by watching hours and hours of “Keeping Up with the Kardashians,”and drawing the blinds. Watching a show on a day where you feel less than stellar about yourself featuring a family of insanely gorgeous Armenian bombshells does nothing for your self-esteem. As I lay there watching Bruce Jenner (who may be one of my favorites in that family) contemplate doing a little something-something to his face to fix the damage a doctor had done in the 80s, I began to fantasize about the work I’d do, should a plastic surgeon magically appear, free of charge, in my living room. I dreamt my breasts were lifted and reduced, and that I’d magically begin frolicking on beaches in teeny fringed bikinis, similar to Rihanna, and that my new boobs might just stay in place without any worry about them flopping out of the suit. My mind wandered further. How long would this imaginary surgery keep me away from the gym? Would I gain weight as I recovered from this imaginary surgery? This surgery was compounding my imaginary life.

I’m aware that this line of thinking is insane. And 93% of the time, I’m normal . I’m super intelligent, and I’m an ugly girl at all. I place a premium on treating people well, which is the number one factor that contributes to beauty. But evvvvery once in a while, that sneaky little rude thought weasels in. So I wanted to see, and sort of make sure, that I’m not alone in this irrational line of thinking. So I posed this question to a lot of you a few evenings ago, and I was shocked to see a lot of you had the same weird hang-ups about your body as I do. Comments poured in. A lot of you hate your stomachs. Your legs. Your feet. Your thighs. And the most insane thing? The majority of these comments came from smart, beautiful, and last but not least, healthy girls. Girls who were not only beautiful on the outside, but girls that I know for a fact had accomplished and lived through incredible feats. Girls who work for non-profits. Girls who successfully manage a hectic work schedule. Girls who’d picked up and moved across the country with no fear, and no family.

All this is to say, I think it’s okay to have those days when you doubt something about yourself, even if it’s physical. But those perceived flaws are likely only a flaw to you. If you keep on being an awesome girl with a sick personality, those little things, only perceptible to you kind of become non-existent. Cause who really cares that you have big boobs when you right a sick blog, right? 😉