As temperatures rise and shorts, bathing suits, and skirts become less about fashion and more about necessity, it becomes more and more vital that I love myself. I must love myself because I’m not always the biggest fan of my thighs and stomach. I must love myself because I always think my arms could be firmer and my knees could stop looking so weird.

As I type this, I’m sitting at my desk in a bathing suit (living in New York has kept me far away from any type of swimming pool, but bathing suits are much more acceptable than a bra and underwear if someone were to knock or accidentally look into my apartment. Or if a stranger crawls through my window while drunk. This has happened. I am now always prepared), sweating and drinking water like a mad woman. Read More »