Introduction: The Mirror Doesn’t Lie, But It Sure Likes to Stretch the Truth
Let me tell you about the time I had an existential crisis over a pair of jeans. There I was, in a Montgomery thrift store, staring at my reflection in the dressing room mirror. The jeans fit fine, objectively speaking. But instead of admiring the denim’s snug embrace, I saw every imagined flaw: the curve of my stomach, thighs that looked like they could crush watermelons (a cool skill, but not the vibe I was going for), and that little gap between confidence and reality that no amount of shimmying could close. I told myself I’d start a new diet. Or maybe a new workout plan. Or possibly a new life altogether.
That mirror wasn’t just showing me my body—it was showing me my relationship with myself. Spoiler alert: it needed work. Somewhere between all the self-criticism and scrolling through Instagram to see how other people’s “jeans moments” compared to mine (pro tip: don’t do this), I realized if I didn’t stop being my harshest critic, no one else was going to magically step in and be my cheerleader. And, y’all, you can’t date or love someone else while actively roasting yourself 24/7. So, I put down the jeans and started the hardest relationship of my life: the one with me.
Step One: Stop Waiting for a Hallmark Moment
Like most Southern girls raised on Sunday potlucks, I grew up believing the notion that self-love was something you “arrived at”—like pulling a perfect pecan pie out of the oven. The recipe is already written, you just follow it, and boom: self-esteem at 350°F for 45 minutes. But that’s not how growth works.
You’re not going to wake up one day, look in the mirror, and hear a gospel choir backing your sudden epiphany: “I AM ENOUGH!” (although that’d be iconic). For me, the first step was realizing self-love wasn’t an endpoint; it was a process.
Practical tip:
Instead of focusing on some far-off self-love fairy tale, start small and present. Write down three things you like about yourself. They do not have to be life-altering—mine were “nice handwriting,” “excellent chili recipe,” and “impressive knowledge of random Civil War trivia.” The point is to begin.
Step Two: Be Kind, Even When It Sounds Ridiculous
Here’s the part where I had to do something incredibly awkward: talk to myself. No, not in a quirky, “oops, just muttering to myself in public” way, but in a deliberately kind way.
Once, in my late 20s, I caught myself walking into a date rehearsing a list of reasons why the guy might not like me. Too loud. Too nerdy. Too Southern. What if he hated cornbread? (I mean, who does that—avoid him, anyway.) Before I even stepped into the coffee shop, I was already rejecting myself for him. That wasn’t a habit I could fix overnight, but I learned to start calling myself out on it.
Now, whenever my inner voice gets mean, I ask: “Would I talk to my best friend like this? My mom? A dog?” If it’s not kind enough for them, it’s not kind enough for me, period.
Practical tip:
The next time your inner dialogue gets snarky (and it will), stop and rewrite the message. Turn “I’ll never be good enough for this” into “I’m still learning, but I have something unique to offer.” Feel weird about it? Good. Growing is weird.
Step Three: Find What Feels Good
Self-love isn’t a one-size-fits-all sweater that magically fits everyone the same—trust me, I’ve tried. (Ask the sweater I impulse-bought one winter in Auburn. It was too itchy and still haunts my closet.) What works for someone else may not work for you, but what you’re looking for is simple: joy.
For me, joy looks like going on long walks with zero agenda. It looks like baking biscuits from scratch, imperfect and slightly lopsided. It feels like rereading Zora Neale Hurston under a pecan tree, even when the mosquitoes come out. Other people might find it in a full yoga class or crafting Instagram-worthy charcuterie boards. The point isn’t how “picture-perfect” your moment is—it’s that it makes you feel alive.
Practical tip:
Keep a “joy journal.” Jot down moments that make you feel good without overthinking the why. Sometimes it’ll surprise you—like how vacuuming, inexplicably, calms me down. Other times, it’ll reaffirm what you already know: live music or dancing like a maniac in your kitchen? Yes, please.
Step Four: Stop Crowdsourcing Your Worth
Let me break something down: People do not decide your value. Read that again while sipping sweet tea or your beverage of choice. You’re not a product up for review on Yelp. Regardless of what social media or bad dates might make you feel, the only opinion of you that actually matters is your own.
I learned this the hard way when I first started writing. For years, every essay I submitted felt like a personal call for validation. If an editor said “no,” my self-esteem tanked. Same went for romantic rejections: “Oh, you don’t want a second date? That must mean I’m completely unloveable FOREVER.” (Spoiler: It didn’t.)
Practical tip:
Limit the time you spend looking for external approval. That could mean deleting an app for a week or un-following accounts that make you spiral. Proactively affirm yourself instead—whether that’s writing yourself a sticky note that says “You’re doing great!” or treating yourself to fried green tomatoes, just because.
Step Five: Recognize That Growth Is Not Linear
If I had an Instagram-style highlight reel of my self-love journey, it might look impressive. Sunshine, confidence, maybe breezy footage of me journaling on the dock of some Alabama lake. But that’s not the whole story, and honestly, the parts in between? They’re messy—and that’s okay.
Real growth looks more like this: crying in the dressing room over jeans one week, then laughing at yourself for caring so much the next. Spending months building confidence only to have one offhand comment by a coworker undo it in 30 seconds—and then rebuilding anyway.
Practical tip:
Be gentle with yourself on hard days. Growth is a two-steps-forward, one-step-back dance, and no one expects you to ballroom it perfectly.
Conclusion: Love Is a Verb, Y’all
Here’s the real kicker about self-love: It’s not a destination, it’s a dynamic process. It’s showing up for yourself, even when you don’t feel like it. It’s falling down and getting back up without berating the you who stumbled.
So next time you catch yourself throwing side-eyes at your body, your personality, or your “flaws,” remind yourself you’re a living, breathing work of progress. Celebrate the wins, even if they’re small. Wear the jeans, even if they’re a little snug. And, for the love of all things sacred, own your worth—because there’s no one else in this whole wide world quite like you.
Now, excuse me while I patch up my own favorite pair of imperfect jeans. Turns out, they fit just right after all.
