You slip on your skinny jeans, throw on a slinky crop top and strut about in your killer heels.
Your make-up is on point, your hair leaves a trail of coconut behind you, while your hips swing freely from side-to-side as the group lads on the corner shout compliments at you.
It’s 12am, the drinks are flowing (but you’re on the water), you’re grinding against your best friend while Giggs’ Linguo vibrates through the speakers above you.
Your feet may be turning blue from lack of circulation and you should’ve brought a jacket with you but, that’s alright, because, right now, you feel like the white version of Beyonce.
Invincible. Untouchable. Beautiful. Confident. Boujee AF. Sexy. Independent.
You told the guy who kept grabbing your arse to fuck off, you sent back that prosecco the guy watching you from across the room bought you, you became best friends with the girl in the toilet queue and you dished out your (wrong) number to four guys within two hours.
You’ve changed your outfit eight times, you’ve spent 20 minutes longer on your make-up, you’ve practiced walking in your heels before the cab arrived and you haven’t eaten all day.
Addison Lee pings up: “Your driver has arrived. Five minutes free waiting time.”
But you’ve got to change your dress, it makes you look fat. Maybe jeans will be more flattering? Damn, you should’ve curled your hair, straight makes it look too flat. You’ve gone in too heavy with the eye look, you’ve got a black eye and your bag clashes with your top.
“No pictures today,” you tell your mate. “I’m just taking a break from social media.”
Sitting in the cab, a wave of sickness comes over you. Are you hungry? Anxious? Beads of sweat form on your forehead. It’s hot in here, isn’t it? Shall we open a window? Am I getting ill?
Gazing through the glass; girls are lying in the road, four guys are surrounding two teenagers (probably underage) and security have a lad up against a wall by his collar.
“We’ll just get out here,” my mate says.
That little voice inside your head – the one that screamed insults at you while you were getting ready – tells you to get back in the cab, go home and hide under your duvet until it’s over.
You stroll past security – he doesn’t even ask for your ID – and the music is so loud you can feel your brain bursting through your skull. It’s dark, it’s hot and everyone is sweaty.
“Let’s just get a drink, you’ll feel better with a shot inside you,” my mate says.
You don’t want to dance, you don’t want a drink and you don’t want to look anyone in the eye. You’ve been in the club 20 minutes and you’ve already booked your cab to come get you.
You finally get back inside your flat, wipe all the slap off your face and cry yourself to sleep.
Both of those girls were me – albeit six months apart.
Life can be so hard these days. You see all these beautiful girls on Instagram with their perfect hair, amazing make-up and incredible bodies.
Is it any wonder we all feel inadequate?
I’ve never been someone who has battled with confidence issues – Yeah, I used to hate my legs, I thought my ears were slightly too big, I didn’t like my teeth and I wished my pupils were smaller.
I had – and I still do to some extent – body hang ups but they never bothered me to the point I was no longer enjoying life. I could smile past those insecurities but when something happens (a break-up, a fuckboy screwing you over, losing friends and a breakdown at work), your confidence can take a
drop plunge and there’s nothing you can do to stop yourself falling.
Once you hit the bottom, you sit there for a while wondering how you can climb back out of the hole that seems to be filling in with thick wet mud with every second that passes by.
And then you realise that no one can give you your confidence back – the same way no one took it away – because you caused your own self-esteem to break down.
What do you do when you realise you’re the solution to your own problem?
You start changing things.
But from within.
Because feeling ugly and fat has nothing to do with your appearance, it’s the negative thoughts festering from within that cause the brain to paint you in that light.
Let me put this into perspective: If I don’t go to the gym for more than two days, I start seeing fat legs, a wide waist and a chubby face staring back at me – even though I weigh EXACTLY the same.
My thighs and wide hips were the thing I hated the most growing up, but now I look at them and I remind myself I’m a size 8, I weigh 9 stone 7 and I’m healthy. I go to the gym six times a week (for my sanity), I eat really well and I spent the majority of my life freestyle dancing. Will I be happy if I have stick-thin legs? Probably not. Will I get surgery on them? Absolutely not. Would my legs withstand my training programme? Definitely not.
You’re who you are. Sure, you can go to the gym and boost your confidence levels but self-love starts from you. If you love yourself – flaws included – you’ll smile more and that positive energy will attract positive people, who will fall in love with every piece of you.
Here’s my top 10 tips on feeling confident:
- Write down one thing you love about yourself every day
- Get moving – whether that’s a class, the gym or simply a walk
- Compliment other people
- Pamper yourself
- Invest in clothes that make you feel good
- Drink plenty of water
- Eat healthy
- Remember that those perfect girls on Instagram have edited their pictures
- Tell yourself you’re unique and you are good enough
- Pour your attention into your talents
You’re all my perfect little angels. Don’t let anyone or any situation put you down. Love yourself first, smile more and the right people will come your way. Fake it ’til you make it, they say!
Love and hugs x