I have spent an embarrassing amount of my life trying to become the kind of woman who walks into a room and commands attention. Meanwhile, I’m 23 years old, still occasionally forget how to operate my limbs in public, and somehow had more confidence at 13 with a mouth full of braces. Explain that one.
This week, we're talking confidence. Not the kind that requires perfect hair, a fabulous body, or the approval of every man within a five-mile radius. The kind that comes from actually liking yourself, even when nobody else is around to validate it.
We're discussing why 13-year-old me was absolutely convinced she was the cat's meow at her barn mitzvah, how to stop treating other people's opinions like performance reviews, and why putting on a sexy thong and dancing to Beyoncé alone in your kitchen might be a legitimate form of personal development.
Plus, an Uber driver with questionable intentions, the art of being particular without being an asshole, and some big-sister advice on finding a therapist when you don't know where to start.
Confidence may be an inside job, but fabulous underwear certainly helps.
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