So the last few weeks before I got to California…

my mind was plagued with some pretty negative and anxiety-ridden thoughts. I worried greatly about my body image, my self confidence, and if I’d feel okay leaving the house in shorts (my legs have always been my greatest insecurity). Along with my mental image of gorgeous California, came the image of the gorgeous people that live there.

The perfectly bronzed and thin bikini models. Everyone rockin’ the whole no-makeup, air-dried-hair, natural beauty. It freaked me out.

I’ve had my fair share of struggles with my appearance and weight, so when these thoughts started creeping into my mind I tried my hardest to shut them down. I know myself, and I know that when I get the “You’re so fat” mentality, I just stop eating. And I KNOW how unhealthy it is, but I do it anyway. I get obsessive about food, and feel guilty about each meal I have. But I’ve been there, done that, and I don’t want to treat my body (or mind) like that again.

And what I’ve realized (and try to focus on), is that it doesn’t effing matter what your body looks like.

Our bodies are undeniably powerful.

Your body’s journey does not begin and end in the fitting room. Your body’s worth does not depend on your size.

Our bodies facilitate our life without us even giving it a second thought. Our bodies grow, change, and heal every single day.

They allow us to run marathons and lift weights and scurry around offices where we do what we love. They allow us to cook delicious meals for our families, take walks in the park with our loved ones, and dance to sexy spanish music.

And an extra shoutout to women, because our bodies were literally built to grow other humans. It’s a miracle and a half. But ladies, your decision on whether or not to have kids doesn’t affect your worth, either.

Related Content: To The Girl in the Fitting Room who Cried as she Tried on Bikinis

So before I boarded the plane 2 weeks ago, I wrote myself a Love Note.

Writing letters has been a form of therapy for years now. Often I write letters to the people I’m upset with, or people who have left my life. But rarely do I write a letter that opens with Dear Laney…

In this note, I thanked myself. I thanked my body.

I expressed the appreciation I know I deserved but never gave myself. And as weird as it felt to be writing a letter basically hyping myself up, it also felt damn good.

I wrote to my thighs, that look sexy in jeans, love the stairmaster, and, at some points, have made a great pillow for friends and puppies alike.

Then I wrote to my arms, that give amazing hugs and allow me to take all my groceries inside with one trip.

I wrote to my cheeks that help show just how happy I am when I smile.

Essentially, I wrote to each part of my body that I’m insecure about, and reminded myself of all of the good that they do.

I urge you to do the same.

Love yourself,