the tiny bikini and the war within: confessions of a recovering perfectionist

Spring in Florida: sunshine, blooming flowers, the irresistible pull of the beach. But for so many of us women, that beautiful season comes with a familiar dread: swimsuit anxiety. In a world saturated with filters, Botox, and the illusion of flawless perfection peddled by social media and AI, feeling ‘enough’ in our own skin can feel like an impossible battle.

You might look at me – someone who’s seemingly confident, works out religiously, and watches what I eat – and assume I love what I see in the mirror. Here’s my truth: I often hate it. Every perceived imperfection becomes a target for secret self-loathing. Self-acceptance has been a hard-won, daily internal war.

My history with body image runs deep. Growing up in the ballet world, my body was constantly scrutinized, weighed, compared. My natural curves were deemed ‘not quite right.’ Then came marriage to a professional athlete, where an unspoken expectation of a certain aesthetic loomed. I became a master of restriction, chasing an unattainable ideal.

Pregnancy brought a confusing shift. I had to gain weight, my body irrevocably changing. My 18 1/2 inch waist? Gone. Thicker thighs, a rounder booty. Panic set in. I immediately became recommitted to my diet and exercise regimen.  I lost 40 lbs in three weeks, and my body retaliated with agonizing pain, leading to emergency gallbladder surgery with a newborn at home. All I could think was, ‘How did I get here and for what? My baby needs me.’

The next decade was a relentless pursuit of perfection, a calorie-counting, exercise-obsessed blur. But perfection, ladies, is a myth.  There is no such thing as perfect.

My wake-up call came in the innocent words of my then four-year-old daughter, a budding dancer, commenting on her belly. In that moment, I saw my own toxic patterns reflected back at me. I knew I had to break free and pivot.

The mantra became: Just live and be free. Eat the cake. Don’t punish yourself. Let your thighs touch. Embrace the jiggle. I have three healthy kids and a partner who loves me and thinks I am beautiful – maybe, just maybe, I could extend that grace to myself.

Now, you’ll find me on the beach, rocking a tiny bikini with my head held high. Letting it all hang out – appropriately or not. Because we are all beautiful. We are all goddesses. It’s time to let that inner radiance shine.

Do I still have bad body image days? More than I’d like to admit. Do I love seeing pictures of myself? Nope. But I do it anyway. For myself, for my daughter, and for all women.  To prove that I can rewire my own brain and not focus on the negative. Self-love is a journey, not a destination.

So, let this be your permission slip: Have the dessert. Wear the damn bikini. Get Unsettled in your own skin. Because I guarantee you, right now, someone is looking at you and seeing nothing but your incredible glow. So Glow Up Goddesses. .. Glow Up.

What’s your biggest body image struggle?

What’s one thing you’re learning to love about your body?