After 34 years I finally discovered the two-word recipe for ditching the self-criticism, once and for all.

It’s May!!!! Crocuses, sunshine, warm and springy grass. The smell of bbq grills, the sound of birds singing up the dawn. New growth. New life. A time for new beginnings.

But you’ve got a secret about the onset of spring. For you, May marks the start of a season of dread. You think about trying on swimsuits and scrutinizing your body from every angle. Your heart sinks as you imagine the cellulite and fat rolls and droopy parts that you just know you’ll see in the mirror.

I’ve got a secret for you: accepting your body is NOT about embarking on the latest crash diet. You know that if you do, you’ll just gain the weight back, because it’s happened before. And it’s not about plastic surgery. Did you know even supermodels are critical of their physiques? Clearly, for us women, there is no way that we can achieve the perfect figure. ‘Cause you know there will always be something you wish looked different…


You take on the following mantra.


Your mantra for bikini season (and for all time) is

“Fuck it.”

FUCK IT. I’m alive, my limbs and organs work; I can see and hear and smell and taste.

FUCK IT. I’m ____ (fill in your age). How much time am I willing to waste focusing on my flab rather than enjoying the salt air and the waves???? Seriously??

FUCK IT. If I think that woman over there is looking at me critically, I’ll feel sorry for her. She hates her own body so much that she’s got to focus on my flaws.

FUCK IT. When I hear that critical voice in my head, I will say “fuck it, critical voice!”. I’ll understand that I don’t need to follow its every edict like a slave.

FUCK IT. In a larger sense, when we as women refuse to limit our lives because we think we look wrong, we unleash a tremendous force of power. There’s nothing more dangerous than a confident woman, and I mean that in the best way possible.


It can be quite liberating.

Did I offend you?

Good. Let me shake you out of your old ways.