Sweat beading on my forehead as my stomach sank, I bolted awake and tried to wipe away the nightmare. But those thirty candles flickering on the cake were not some unrealistic phantasm of my imagination–they were a fast-approaching reality. The nightmare was coming for me, and at twenty-nine, I feared those candles more than any monster that could prey on me while I slept.

My fear of thirty potentially started with Jennifer Garner’s appearance in the movie Thirteen Going on Thirty, where a thirteen-year-old girl wishes she could be thirty, flirty, and thriving. When magic happens and she wakes up as a thirty-year-old, she realizes her life is nothing like she could have wished. Her thirties were not, in fact, thriving because she’d made all the wrong choices. The movie infused my then teenage self with terror.

Maybe, too, my fear stemmed from a social standard all around me–and the women’s magazines I used to steal from my mom. They made your 20s look like a wild cocktail party while your 30s, in contrast, were about settling down. Your 20s required, according to the magazines, a lot of sparkly, work to after-work looks, while your 30s just required a smart blazer and a great appetizer recipe. Talk about game over. 

Regardless of where the fear started, in my late 20s, I found myself terrified of turning the big 3-0.  I would jolt awake night after night, thinking about how I was going to be that troubling age soon. I was terrified of the prospect I had hit my peak–and, to be honest, I wasn’t that impressed with the peak of my life if that was it. I dreaded watching my body age and of having to have life figured out when I still felt like a teenager on the inside. 

I sit here now just days away from turning thirty-five, half-way through the decade that haunted me.I won’t lie–it hasn’t been a perfect or easy decade in any way. I suffered a lot of loss in the past five years, including the loss of my soul dog, Henry (our mastiff). My husband lost his job, and we spent a few years in financial scarcity. I lost my passion for teaching, my career, and switched jobs, which has been wonderful but also tough. It’s been a decade, so far, of change and fluctuations, of questioning and soul-searching with few concrete answers.

Remembering that twenty-nine-year-old’s panick, I wish I’d known then what was really to come with those candles. I wish I’d understood what turning thirty meant and what it didn’t mean, for better or worse. So, whether you’ve already hit the milestone of thirty or you’re getting ready to face that warped birthday song, I hope you’ll glean some understanding about your own journey in your thirties from what I’m sharing below.

​

Recently, I saw a study that mentioned how metabolism doesn’t change as she ages. Other scientists argue that it does due to fluctuating hormones. Regardless, I’m here to tell you on a purely anecdotal level: your metabolism is going to shift. I swear on the skinny jeans that stopped fitting in my thirties, which are still balled up on the floor of my closet.

As soon as I turned thirty, even looking at a cookie added a pound. I found that I had to clean up my eating habits to stay healthy–and not from a size standpoint but from an energy standpoint. If I threw fast food and sweets into my mouth with the wild abandon from my twenties, I would not have the energy to power through my day. Also, those glasses of wine I liked to toss back on the weekends suddenly seemed to lead to a migraine-inducing, comatose state the next morning like I’d never experienced.

In short, your body will change. Your metabolism will change. I’d like to put a positive spin on this and tell you it’s all okay–but in truth, I really do miss those cookie-eating, wine guzzling binges of my twenties that didn’t seem to have any effect.

​

There’s this myth in our society that your 20s are for exploring and sorting through who you are. They’re for adventuring and switching jobs. They’re for figuring it out so you can be set in your 30s and stable. 

    But I’m here to tell you that you still might not know what you want to be when you grow up in your 30s–and that’s more than okay. There is no cutoff to career happiness or to finding what fulfills you. Also, what makes you happy in your 20s might not fit you anymore in your 30s. As you change, perhaps your dreams will, too. I think the best gift you can give yourself is to cut the deadline for “figuring it all out” and to be flexible with what sets your soul on fire.

​

There’s this tendency to see thirty as an endpoint, both good and bad. Society tells you that you’ll have your shit together by thirty, but also that you’ve lived your most exciting moments by then. They are wrong. Wow, are they wrong.
    
    There’s a new glow that comes when you reach thirty, mostly because of #4. When you learn to stop living for social standards and for others’ validation, your life begins in a new way. You walk differently through life. You seize new opportunities because they light your heart up. Sure, you might still fumble. You still might have doubts, and you still fall prey sometimes to questioning your worth. But overall, your thirties will bring a newfound sense of confidence that comes with experience, with maturity, and with aging. 

    Once you understand that, you understand the most important truth: It really isn’t about the candles at all. It’s about your inner confidence. Once you can own that, you can own any age.

​

The same way a switch seems to be flipped in your metabolism when you blow out those thirty candles, I think an “I don’t give a shit” switch is also flipped. I’ve found that in my thirties, I just don’t care as much about what people think of me. So my side part and skinny jeans are out of style? That’s okay. I love them. So you think I dance weird or that I’m too quiet or too loud or too bossy? Okay. I’ll sleep just fine. You hate the career path I picked? Luckily, it’s mine to travel and not yours.

    I can hear my twenty-something self reading those statements and audibly gasping. There was a fatal flaw with my twenty-something self, though–she cared a heck of a lot about the opinions of others. She was worried about image, about living right, about others’ validation. The beautiful gift your thirties can bring if you let them is that you’ll learn to live for yourself and validate yourself–and more importantly, you’ll understand that it’s not selfish to do exactly that. If I’d have understood that at twenty-nine, perhaps I would have had more well-rested nights.

​

It’s a Warped World When It Comes to Women’s Weight

I’ve been seeing so many Facebook posts lately that have jarred me to the core—because they’ve all demonstrated that when it comes to women’s weight and social expectations, we’re living in a warped world.

Certainly, this isn’t a shocking revelation. We’ve been talking about the role social media plays on our self-image for years. We’ve all seen the before and after retouching photos that remind us what real women’s bodies look like. We’ve subscribed to the motivational body love accounts and sworn to ourselves we’d chant positive mantras when we look in the mirror.
Still, sometimes it feels like we’re fighting a losing cause because it really is a distorted world we live in. It’s a twisted view of women’s weight and ridiculous expectations that are reinforced over and over and over again. No wonder so many of us can’t escape from the demented rabbit hole.

Repeatedly this week, I’ve been seeing evidence that as a society, we have a true problem that we need to address when it comes to the expectations we put on women regarding their weight.

When a woman thinks she has to remain the same size and shape she was at 18 for her entire life—despite fluctuating hormones, life circumstances, stressors, and aging—it’s a warped world.

When a woman thinks her husband has the right to say he doesn’t love her anymore because she’s put on some pounds—and she believes that—it’s a warped world.

When a grown woman finds herself swamped with murderer-level guilt over a cookie, a piece of cake, or an extra glass of wine—it’s a warped world.

When women spend billions of dollars on potions, pills, weird underclothing to suck it in, diets, and exercise machines that look like torture devices—it’s a warped world.

When a woman thinks the number on her jeans determines how worthy she is of unconditional love and support—it’s a warped world.

When a woman walks into a room with her eyes averted and head down because she gained some weight—it’s a warped world.

You’re not here.

The words tumble through my heart like an oil-laden ocean, like gritty rocks that eviscerate your leg as you hit the bottom.

No matter how many cookies I bake or gifts I buy or times I let the Christmas carols reverberate, the stark truth stands. You’re not here. You’re gone.

Everyone tells me to live in the memories, to remember you were loved, that we loved. But love and memories don’t fill the gap your absence left. They don’t warm the blackened night. They don’t illuminate that wondrous star that seeks to guide.

You’re gone, and I’m here in your empty spot, aching for something that can’t be. The futility of the wish doesn’t make it dissipate. The heart is foolish but strong.

The holiday hustle and bustle distracts me for a while, but in the Silent Night moments, I am drowning.

Still, I trudge on, knowing time won’t heal this wound. It will simply mask it, a patch that allows me to limp forward. A bandage that stops the life-threatening injury from completely usurping my life force—just barely, it feels sometimes.

I hang the mistletoe and drink the hot chocolate. I numb myself when the holiday movie comes on you used to love. I brace myself as your favorite cookie sends grief washing over me. I readjust the bandage on the wound, put more pressure on it, and try to keep from flat lining. Sometimes, if I’m honest, I wish I would succumb to the rotting injury that is grief.

But tonight, I took a moment to separate from the Christmas carols and sap of the tree. I stepped onto my deck and let the bitter cold envelop me. I exhaled a cloud of guilt, of regret, and of melancholy. And standing there, looking up at the same stars that graced our memories, I inhale you. The love we shared fills me, embraces me from the inside out.

I realize the truth I’ve almost forgotten. I realize the magic that is still alive.

Because it’s true, you’re not physically sitting here at the holiday dinner.

You’re not stealing my scissors or hiding the tape as we wrap gifts.

You haven’t helped the elf take flight this season or sang out “God Rest You Merry, Gentleman.”

You’re not glowing with the thought of that gift you bought me and are hiding.

Still, the magic is still there, perhaps even bigger this year. Because the magic is this: against all the impossible odds, you ARE still here.

You’re settled into my weary bones. You’re wrapping my heart in the love I know still exists between us, even though we’re farther apart than we ever were.

You’re here in the courage I find to go back inside, to wash down the candy cane with eggnog like you taught me. You’re here in the magical moment I realize I can carry on the traditions.

You’re here, still, always, because as I realize now, love does not simply vanish. Love is not banished to memories. Love subsists, even when the body does not.

You’re here, so I find the power to uncover a sense of magic. Not the same magic, of course. But magic, nonetheless.

Because you were here, and because you still are, I know I must find the magic for the both of us this season.

You’re not here—yet you are. And that, perhaps, is the biggest sign of holiday magic there is.
 
~To all who are grieving during the holidays. The magic will be different, which is okay. But it’s also okay to still find a version of the magic, no matter what that looks like.

Author L.A. Detwiler

If you don’t have kids, you’re missing out. Your life is less.

As a 35-year-old who has been happily married for 11 years, this statement has been spouted to me more times than I’d like to count. Especially around the holidays, there is this overwhelming sense of pity for my husband and me that we don’t have kids, that we don’t experience holiday magic.
But I’m here to say: Our lives aren’t less magical because we don’t have kids.

I know, I know. This can be a controversial statement. Let me be clear: I am not judging anyone who has children or saying I can understand what that undoubtedly magical experience is. I am not here to say my husband and I live a life of luxury (We do not. I know many couples with children who travel 10x more than we do, have a much better social life, and live in houses much more worthy of a magazine than we do). I’m not here to say having kids is a mistake or that your holidays aren’t magical if you have them.

I’m simply here to say that you don’t have to have children to have a magical holiday season … or life, for that matter.

​

I write this not to stir waves of controversy or even pity. I write this because I know somewhere out there is a woman in her twenties or thirties or forties who worries that because she doesn’t want children, her life will be less.
​
I write this because I know there is a married couple out there who is being hounded about children to the point they wonder if maybe they can’t find happiness with just the two of them.
I write this because I think social media tries so hard to pit the childfree against those with children when it doesn’t need to be that way.

There is not a limit or a recipe for happiness, for holiday magic, or for fulfillment in this life. There Is not one path that is better—there’s just the path that is best for you.

I think the more we talk about that, the more we understand that there are so many ways to live this life, the more we can be happy for each other and, most importantly, find happiness, real happiness, for ourselves.

Happy holidays, wherever you are in life and whatever you’re doing,

Author L.A. Detwiler

L.A. Detwiler is the USA Today Bestselling author of numerous novels including The Widow Next Door.

​You’re the girl with the seat on the corner, straddling the legs awkwardly as you try to fit into the swatch of leftover table.
 
You’re the girl invited to the party—sometimes—but never the one at the center of the crowd who everyone turns to see walk in.
 
You’re the woman in the meeting who tries to speak up but is always an afterthought to the more boisterous voices in the crowd.
 
You’re the one who has never had a friendship bracelet, a best friends forever necklace, or someone to drink mimosas at brunch with.
 
You’re the one on the edges, the fringes of the group. You’re the one always trying to step into the inner circle a little more but never quite making it work. And, if you’re being honest, it’s hard being the invisible girl on the fringes who never quite fits in enough to be called one of the crew but isn’t completely on the outskirts, either. You’re somewhere in the middle where you just feel invisible.
​
Life in your twenties or thirties isn’t like the movies—we all know that. It isn’t always filled with the girls’ trips and the best friends you can call and confess your sexual exploits to or go for drinks after work in that work-to-weekend look. There’s really nowhere to where that sparkly shirt to or anyone to call for a mani/pedi date or a girls’ brunch. For so many of us, female friendships aren’t the thing of a chick lit novel. Even though social media tries to make us think otherwise, many of us women in adulthood struggle with female friendship. Even the somewhat dysfunctional friendship in Firefly Lane seems out of our realm because we don’t even have a Tully to love/hate.  In honesty, many of us smile in the group photographs or at the luncheons—but behind the mask, we just feel alone and, quite frankly, like there’s something very wrong with us.

As one who has consistently been on the fringes of female friendship her whole life, I’m here to tell you that the more and more I talk to other women in person and online, the more I realize that this isn’t a rare occurrence. So many of us women feel exactly this way—like some sort of female friendship predilection alluded us in the gene pool.

Some of it certainly is a result of the chaos that is adult life. Whether it’s our careers, kids, significant others, pets, families, hobbies, or just life in general, things are hectic. It’s difficult to make friendship a priority sometimes, and for many of us, it just falls near the bottom on the list of priorities. Connection, true connection, requires time, and that’s something a lot of us don’t always have the opportunity to put in.

For some of us, the lack of friendship comes from hesitancy and walls. Many of us have tried to be vulnerable in the best friends’ necklace kind of way only to be backstabbed. Once you’ve been hurt by someone you thought would be a lifelong friend, it isn’t easy to trust again. Even when we feel someone getting close or find a potential friend, we sometimes sabotage it because we don’t want to risk getting hurt. Female friendships are complicated relationships, even though the movies want to make you think that’s not the case.
​
And sometimes, it’s just that who we are differs significantly from the mainstream. We might try to be who we really are only to get weird looks from the main group of women in our lives. We may feel so different than the women in our workplace, our families, or our hobbies that we just feel it’s easier to gravitate to the edges so we don’t risk being embarrassed. Our teen years often remind us that not fitting in is a shameful thing, and we carry that with us into adulthood.
But I think there are lessons to be learned here. Maybe it’s not about trying to escape from the edge to worm our way toward the center of the group. Maybe, instead, it’s about learning to love the fringes and own the fact that we belong exactly there. 

So many blogs and articles I’ve read try to give you advice on how to fix your friendship woes. They tell you where to meet new friends, how to play nice, and how to make those connections. But I’m here to tell you—don’t change who you are to fit into the girl group. Truly. I think the real answer to our lack of friendship is to accept who we really are and be unapologetic about it, even if that means we have to stand outside the circle sometimes.

The older I get, the more I realize this: Maybe some of us don’t fit in with the traditional female friendship model because we were never meant to. Maybe the popular, girls’ trip girls aren’t actually our crew. Maybe we were meant to accept our otherness to inspire others, to connect with those who also feel invisible. Maybe it is when we own our placement on the fringes that we can really abate the loneliness and find our true sense of connection.

In truth, maybe more of us need to learn to be a Wednesday Addams as portrayed in the Tim Burton adaptation. We need to stand firm in our outfits that don’t match the others. We need to stop smiling to impress others, stop trying to be part of the crowd. We need to learn to dance at the party to our own rhythm and not care who is watching or poking fun at our eccentric moves. We need to learn to love the fringes sometimes and own our otherness. We need to bask in our weird, our different, our aloofness in order to not only reach our own greatness but to attract the kind of friends who will accept us for who we are. Even Wednesday eventually finds a friend in Enid, not because she changes who she is or tries to fit in but arguably because she stays unabashedly true to herself.

I think more of us need to be a Wednesday and step into our truth, our own version of ourselves, and know that it’s okay if that puts us on the edges sometimes. Happiness can be found in all sorts of ways, and connection doesn’t have to be the trip to the winery and movie nights like social media portrays.

In short, those of us who struggle with female friendship need to learn that the best friend we can ever have is ourself. We need to learn to validate ourselves and not seek validation from others. Wednesday doesn’t look to others for approval—she is fine with being who she is and unapologetic for her own sense of worth.

This isn’t to say we don’t all need connections or should push people away on purpose. It’s more about being your own friend first and foremost and learning to love who you are, even if that doesn’t make you popular. We all need to learn that we don’t have to have girls’ trips and mimosas to be valued. Being alone sometimes doesn’t have to feel lonely. And, in truth, there are worse things to be than to be alone—like being someone you’re not.

I think the lesson we can all learn from Wednesday is this: Keep showing up exactly as you are. Keep putting yourself out there, sure, and keep looking for connections when you can.
Keep sitting at the edge of the table if you have to … but don’t be afraid to take up more space. Keep speaking up in the meeting, but don’t be afraid to get a bullhorn if you need to because you know your ideas are valuable.

And don’t be afraid to walk into the center of the party if you’re on the edges. Some people won’t get you. That’s fine. Because I promise that somewhere, there’s a girl on the edges just trying to find the courage to do just that—and maybe that’s the encouragement she needs.

Maybe if more of us on the edges stepped into the spotlight in an unapologetic way, if we showed our otherness and our weirdness, if we showed we aren’t afraid to stand alone—maybe more of us Wednesdays could find each other.

In short, you don’t have to be the popular girl or the girls’ night girl or the one the others laud in order to be happy. I think the world needs more Wednesdays.

Or, in other words, the world needs more of you, girl on the fringes, exactly as you are.

L.A. Detwiler is the USA Today Bestselling author of The Widow Next Door with HarperCollins UK as well as numerous other thriller novels. Follow her on Instagram for more advice for modern women, inspiration to chase your dreams, and book recommendations. 

Leaves under our feet and blue sky above our heads, we saunter into the empty solitude of the tiny park near our house. My Great Dane Edmund cannot keep his feet moving fast enough underneath him to keep up with his excitement. Nose plowing through the piles of leaves as his tail wags, the park is a beacon of curiosity and contentment.

However, it’s really nothing special, in truth. A few play areas for kids, a few pavilions, and lots of trees. The paved path loops through the entire park, and we rarely leave the road.
Edmund is, admittedly, not a huge fan of nature. He appreciates sniffing the grass, the trees, and the forest creatures from afar—he enjoys this park because it is an urbanized version of nature. Still, his entire body relaxes when we are at this small abode.
​
The typically anxious, always on high-alert Great Dane settles into himself and the freedom I offer him on his leash to just sniff, to just be a dog. To Edmund, our weekly jaunt to the park near our house is an adventure, a reminder of how the world is there purely for exploration.
If I’m being honest, though, our weekly trip to the park isn’t just for Edmund—it’s for me, too. For while the park is a chance to get out and explore for Edmund, it’s a chance for me to get away. It’s a place of true quiet, where even the traffic fades into the distance in favor of the heron’s calls overhead. It’s a place that doesn’t require anything of me—not money, not interaction, and certainly not status. It’s a place where I can breathe in the silence and exhale all of society’s pressures as I take in the vastness of the trees, the leaves, and the fact that nature doesn’t care about any of it.

Watching Edmund explore this simple place near our house, I’m always reminded that the world really IS a vast, wide-open place waiting for us to notice it. And I’m also reminded that even though exotic trips and locales are exciting, you don’t have to jet-set to Paris or the Caribbean or Egypt to find marvels. There is exploration and adventure to be done right in your hometown that doesn’t cost a thing. There is inspiration around you if you take a moment to unplug and appreciate it. There is always something new to see, to marvel in, to revel in, if you’re willing to go out and find it.
You don’t have to go somewhere to special to realize how special life is. That’s the lesson I’ve learned from this tiny, humble park near our house. That’s the lesson I come back to every single week when I come with Edmund to this holy ground of sorts—because isn’t it just so easy to forget all of that in the hustle and bustle of life? Don’t we all need a reminder sometimes of the words my favorite poet Whitman says when pondering the meaning of life:

Answer: That you are here.
That life exists and identity.
That the powerful play goes on,
And you may contribute a verse.

The best piece of advice I can give you, modern woman, is this:

Walk with your head held high.

Literally, I mean walk with your head held high, your gaze confident.

Even when you're unsure or worry.
When you know their whispers are about you.
When you're not sure where you're going.
Keep your head held high.

When they're not listening to you.
When they ignore your worth.
When they joke about the size of your thighs.
Keep your head held high.

When your self-talk says you're too stupid,
too ugly,
too loud,
too bitchy,
Keep your head held high.

When no one is on your side.
When you're invisible.
When you've lost your voice.
Keep your head held high.

I see too many women 
walking small,
eyes down,
crumpled into themselves
like their existence
requires an apology.

Hell No. 

Walk with your head up,
your eyes laser focused ahead.
Walk with your shoulders back,
tall and proud.
Hell, add a red lip and
really come into your own.

Walk with your head up 
owning your worht and
your space.
The thing is, when you do,
they'll notice. They'll pause.
They'll question. 
Confidence breeds
respect.

But you know what?
It isn't even about them.

It's about you.

Because when you walk 
like you've already got the
crown on your head, you'll
believe it.
You'll kick that fear aside.
You'll ignore the hate.
Because when you walk with your head
up and take up the
space that's rightfully yours, they'll
remember who you are.

​So will you.

Hustle culture snatched you up after high school, its venomous claws turning your head the way it wanted. Its mantras replay over and over, a twisted, cyclical trap.

Life's for achieving.
Money is for collecting.
Everyone's opinion matters.
Reputation must be guarded.
More is your standard.

So, woman in your 20s, you keep chasing it all like a discombobulated chicken. You constantly try to improve your looks because pretty girls get ahead. You make sound career choices and never say the dreaded "no." You collect the Instagram photos from worthy locales but also try to remember to save for retirement. You have fun so you can hoard those "wild party moments" to retell later in life but you're also wise because one slipup could mean disaster for your reputation. You make friends and do the brunches. You keep an eye on the biological clock like everyone tells you to. You network and pick a house. You decorate it like you're Martha Stewart and try to keep up with the household while working all the hours. You fall in love and win his heart. You win over his Mama, too. You play house and buy a house and climb the ladder only to climb it again and you never, ever stop for a breath because to pause, even more a moment, is to be left behind.

In short, you run yourself ragged until you barely recognize who you are or even what the hell you want anymore. Because that's what we're supposed to do. 

Right?
​

You do it all because you're a modern woman--and then poof. One day, you realize the "best decade of your life" is over, and it wasn't all that great. You realize you didn't use enough sunscreen like your Mama told you and now you've got too many wrinkles. But more importantly, you realize that you spent so much of your 20s doing what everyone else wanted you to do--that you forgot to live for yourself.

You hoarded the things, the moments, the achievements. But you stand in your cluttered house of knick-knacks and collectibles and ask yourself: what does it all mean? What does it matter?

And that, my friends, is how so many of us wake up in our 30s dazed, tired, and quite frankly, lost.

I used to be that hustle girl, always reaching for more. I chased the full-time job and the path I thought would lead me to happiness. I collected money and things (and also cats, to my husband's chagrin). I tried to be the "good girl" who did all the things and never let anyone see my frown. I chased the hustle culture, always trying to level up. Most of all, I spent my 20s fearing my 30s--because according to society, 30 was old for women, was the point where you had to have it all figured out.

I cried copious tears over the 30 candles on my birthday cake and fell for the lie we're told in our 20s--we become convinced that success is life's currency, life's true measure. 

For some, we measure that success with our bank accounts or the number of designer bags we can afford. Others accumulate job titles. Some of us use houses or cars or lovers as our marker. Regardless, "More," is our mantra, and hustle is both our motivation and our curse in our 20s.

However, as a 34-year-old, I've gotten far enough to learn this: the real currency in life isn't money, fame, or success. It's peace. Because peace is the only thing that can add up to real, genuine happiness.

Peace is that long, slow breath when you look failure in the eye and know you'll be okay.

It's rest and grace for yourself when the world keeps shouting "Not enough."

It's acknowledging that collecting all the bags, money, and titles in the world doesn't mean shit if you're too burnt out to enjoy them.

Peace is understanding second or third or tenth best isn't losing. 

It's living in the moment and inhaling the beauty of stillness, of calmness, of satisfaction.

Peace is having the courage to say: I'm enough. It's enough.

Peace is the currency, the true goal, the true answer.

Sometimes, I think maybe we have to go through the hustle of our 20s to learn this lesson, to really learn it in our bones. Sometimes, I think it was because I was so lost and tired when I got to 30 from trying to be everything for a decade that I finally understood.

But to the women who are in your 20s right now, maybe this doesn't have to be your plight. Maybe you can learn from us. Maybe you can find the answer sooner. Maybe you already have. 

I hope so. I hope you can rise above the culture that demands more. I hope you say "yes" to less, to being enough, to living with enough.

I hope you know life is more than collections and money and material things. I hope you find the value of peace early on and understand how many possibilities open up for you when you truly embody it.

To you, women in your 20s, I say: find your peace. Find it early. And then, never let anyone tell you any other way to live. 

Staring into the mirror, a popular quote from My Big Fat Greek Wedding came to mind: “Look, I was going through a phase. I was Frump Girl.”

If you haven’t seen the movie, it’s essentially about a girl who wakes up in her thirties to realize she’s not living the life she wants. She goes through a physical transformation, starts taking classes, and falls in love. It’s a movie about blossoming, essentially–but at the beginning of this year, I felt like I’d made a transformation into Frump Girl, not from it.

So many of us have our own stories of struggle from these past few years. The pandemic didn’t really do anyone any mental health or physical health favors. So many of us gained weight, got depressed, and struggled with who we were. Years later, we’re still living in the aftermath. So many friends, colleagues, and acquaintances I know have expressed struggling with their identity and confidence in the past year. 

I also fell prey to the pandemic in some ways. Staying at home, while a blessing for my introverted nature, also led to some unwanted side effects. Weight gain, unhealthy habits, and social isolation played their part in my transformation into Frump Girl. Add to that a husband who lost his job right before the pandemic and my mastiff, my best friend, dying, and it was a recipe for a mid-thirties crisis. 

In the past few months, though, I’ve managed to crawl out of my frumpy, slumpy mindset–all without spending thousands of dollars on quick fixes. I wanted to share what worked for me in case you, too, find yourself in a season of frump. 

Check out my best tips that worked for me to get me out of my slump. To be clear, it wasn’t about looking physically better like so many posts tell you on Pinterest. This isn’t a post about how to be the sexiest version of yourself or how to meet society’s beauty standards. It’s more about confidence. It’s about rediscovering who you are and how you can show up in the world as your best self. Check out what helped me do just that below, and steal any ideas that inspire you.

I want to say that I am not sponsored by any of the brands or items I mention ( I wish!). I am sharing things I truly love. 

1. Find inspiring podcasts

    It’s a common mantra in the motivational field that you become who and what you surround yourself with. While watching The Kardashians all day might be a fun escape, it might also not be what your struggling mental state needs. When I was at my lowest, I sought out podcasts and social media that made me feel like I could conquer the world–not like I was lacking.

My all-time favorite podcast is definitely the Rachel Hollis podcast. I know she doesn’t resonate with everyone (who does?), but I love that she is a high-achiever who speaks to women. She really talks a lot about chasing more in your life and going after your dreams, which is something I love.

I also recently found the Manifestation Babe, which is a bit more of a hippie-trippie ride. Still, I found myself interested in spirituality in different versions in the past few months, and manifestation was something that kept coming up in a lot of my social media feeds. 

Whatever you choose to listen to, find something that you look forward to listening to and that fills you with motivation. Instead of watching the news before work, I started listening to podcasts to start my day off on the right foot. It’s made a world of difference in how I see things.


2.    Add three healthy habits to your routine

Unless you’re living in a celebrity-sized mansion, it was almost impossible to get enough steps and physical activity in during the stay-at-home phase of the pandemic. For many of us, the habit of lethargy followed us even into 2022. Weight gain was a common issue with so many of us as a result of 2020.

I am not a fitness junkie by any means. In fact, my family likes to tease me that the only ‘B’ I ever got on a report card was in gym class. Still, there have been enough studies and my own experience to tell me that staying physically active and healthy improves your confidence. I don’t care how much you weigh or what size your clothes are, and you shouldn’t, either. Still, when you work on your health, you walk differently. You feel better in your clothes, and you feel better period.

For me, as someone who hates eating healthy and working out, I challenged myself back in February to add three healthy habits to my routine. I picked:

1. Take vitamins every single day.
2. Drink more water.
3. Work out at least 20 minutes a day in addition to walking the dog.

This felt doable, and it’s something I’ve stuck with even now. This summer, I worked more on cleaning up my nutrition to support these three, but to start, this was what I focused on. Nothing crazy or impossible. 

I challenge you to pick three healthy habits as well. They don’t have to match mine. Maybe one of your healthy habits will be to journal every day in support of your mental health. Maybe you’ll trade your iced coffees for green tea instead, or maybe you’ll add a salad to your dinner each day. Pick three smaller health goals and run with them–and be sure to give it time before you discount the benefit. I didn’t see a change in my mood or health for several months. It takes time, truly.

If you are looking to add fitness to your routine, one app I loved was FitON. I still am using it because it has so many workouts…and the FREE version is absolutely perfect. You can stay on the free plan forever and still have plenty to do. None of the workouts are locked (the paid version just gives you the ability to choose different music and to download the workouts). I never get bored, and there are seriously workouts for every level. I’ve been loving the Pilates workouts lately. 


3.    Turn to Non-Fiction
As a bookworm, another way I know to get out of a slump is through reading. During my hardest periods, I picked up non-fiction specifically to boost my mood. You can find books out there on any topic you want to get inspired about.

My favorite is again by Rachel Hollis: Girl, Wash Your Face and Girl, Stop Apologizing. I love these books for women because they help you get out of your own way. 

I also picked up several manifestation books about positive mindset that really helped. Another book I strongly recommend is The Gap and the Gain by Dan Sullivan and Dr. Benjamin Hardy. If you are a high achiever who feels like you are never accomplishing enough, this will change your whole mindset.


4. Make a Goal Wall

You’ve probably heard of visualization boards or manifestation boards. I’ve turned my bathroom mirror into my own version of this so that every morning, it’s the first thing I see. It’s also what I look at while I’m getting ready, and this helps me stop negative self-talk.

On my mirror, I have several things:

1. My all-time, biggest, wildest dream at the top of the mirror in huge letters (Mine is to be a NYT Bestselling author). 
2. The word I identify with the most/ my passion: Writer
3. A list of bucket-list type goals I’m working towards right now, big and small
4. A photograph of my happiest moment with my mastiff Henry
5. A photograph from Outlander because I’m obsessed and it makes me happy.

Sometimes, when I find a quote I love, I’ll put a post-it note on my mirror. Sometimes, I change my goal wall or add to it. The point is that every morning, the first thing I see are my goals, what I’m aiming for, and things that light me up. It’s hard to feel frumpy or like you’re in a slump when you’ve literally got your eye on where you’re headed.

Don’t limit yourself, either, when you make your lists or goals. The bigger the better. I firmly believe that goals and dreams are what keep us inspired, motivated, and get us off the sofa. 



5. Change up your fashion
After the pandemic, I found myself in a fashion slump as well. Sweatpants and baggy shirts had become my uniform, and this frumpy style did nothing for my confidence. To get out of this rut, I did a few things.
 
I started looking on Pinterest for outfit ideas. I thought about what the best version of myself would wear, no matter how ridiculous it seemed. I stopped worrying about what others thought I should wear or what was practical. I thought about what outfits would make me happy.

Next, I started upgrading my wardrobe. One of my favorite places to do this is Stitch Fix. Yes, it’s very pricy. Truly. It’s not something I do all the time. Still, the stylists are great at sending pieces that fit your style but also push you out of your comfort zone. There were so many pieces they sent that I never would have tried on but that looked great and made me feel awesome. They are always my favorite pieces. They are an investment, but I can tell you that all of my Stitch Fix clothes are my favorites and have lasted years. I swear I am not sponsored by them, but if you want to give them a try, I do have a code here where you can get $25 when you order your first Stitch Fix Box. (Full disclosure: I do get $25 if you sign up as well, so thank you in advance if you do sign up and help me add to my wardrobe.)

You don’t have to spend a fortune to enhance your style, though. I also adore shopping at T.J. Maxx, Ross, and Burlington because I get so many amazing brands and styles for a fraction of the price. I actually bought a few top-notch brand shoes at Burlington for only $30 total. Poshmark is another place to look for high-quality brands at a fraction of the price. I just bought myself my dream Michael Kors purse for $50. 

It’s not about how much you spend or the brands, though. Truly. It’s about dressing in a way that makes you feel confident. Sometimes, it’s just about mixing up your look to something new and exciting.



6. Take some quiet time to think

This sounds like a ridiculous tip that is too simple, but one of the best ways I got out of my funk was to take some quiet time to think. I used this time to think about the following:

1. All that I’ve accomplished so far
2. Visualizing my big, wild dreams
3. Thinking about who I really am at this moment

Sometimes our “frumpy” feelings come from the disconnect between who we were and who we have become. Our sense of identity doesn’t always catch up with our changes, so taking time to really reflect on these questions can help us feel more steady and stable. I try to take a few minutes by myself to go for a walk with the dog and just think–no technology, no music, just me. Another place I love is my hammock. I find that if you can find a place outside to do your thinking, it really does soothe the soul somehow.

Find your own quiet space and take at least ten minutes a day to just be. I promise you’ll see a big difference.


7. Invest in beautiful undergarments

I used to think buying bras and underwear that were nice was a waste of money, but truly, if you’re looking for confidence, this is a great way to give yourself a boost. Ditch the grandma panties and find something that makes you feel sexier or more put-together. Get fun patterns or colors you wouldn’t normally. Invest in luxurious feeling fabrics. This is a simple way to boost your confidence without making a big show of it to the world.

8. Try something new

Monotony is a confidence killer. If you need to break out of a slump, try mixing up your routine in a small way. This can take on so many forms.

• Try a new brand of coffee in the morning or get a new makeup product.
• Take a different route home or on your walk.
• Try a new restaurant that you’ve never been to, or get something off the menu you normally wouldn’t.
• Go on Pinterest and try a new hobby, craft, or skill.
• Check off something on your bucket list.

I have found that the best way to get out of a funk or depression was to try something new. A couple years ago, I finally checked off horseback riding from my bucket list–and it was my favorite day. My soul literally felt lighter after that experience because it was new, exciting, and challenging. In the fall, I also started candy making, which was something I always wanted to learn but never did. It’s something I do just for me (and for family and friends so I’m not eating all the candy), and it’s just soothing.

Find one small way to mix up your routine today. Do something that scares you a little. Take a class to learn something brand-new. Trying new things truly does feed the soul and gets you out of your boring routine.



9. Makeup and skincare

Having a skincare routine has helped me feel less frumpy, even on days I don’t wear makeup. There are so many options out there for every budget. I love Drunk Elephant for a splurge, but the Inkey List at Sephora has tons of affordable options that I think are great dupes. Get into the habit of taking care of your skin, though. Even just the ritual of layering on the serums and creams, something you do just for yourself, can help boost your confidence.

I also find that makeup is a fun way to get out of a rut. I love trying new looks. Pinterest and TikTok are great places to look for fun, achievable looks. Get a new palette with bright colors to try or, my personal favorite confidence boost: a bold, red lip. I think a red lip makes every woman strut a little differently.

Again, it’s all about trying something new and boosting your confidence. Little changes go a long way.


10. Talk to a friend 

The best piece of advice I can give you if you are in a slump is this: talk to someone about it. I think so many times, social media makes us feel like we have to only show our smile to the world. We see all of our friends’ successes, gorgeous vacations, beautiful photos, and we think we can’t be vulnerable. We don’t want others to know we’re struggling. We lie and say we’re great when inside, we’re dying.

Be brave enough to talk to someone–a spouse, a friend, a family member. Tell them the truth about how you’re feeling. Or, if you don’t have someone you feel comfortable talking to, find a group online that you connect with around a common interest. Feeling a sense of belonging and being able to be honest with others is what life is all about. 

I think you might be surprised, too, to find that if you are honest with others about your struggles, you perhaps will find you’re not alone in feeling like you are.


At the end of the day, whether it’s because of a world pandemic, a personal struggle, or just adult life being hard, we’ll all fall into a funk at some point. The key, though, is to avoid staying there. You do have control over finding ways to escape your funk, and they don’t have to break the bank. Still, if your funk is lasting a long time or if you’re just not getting out of it, don’t be afraid to seek professional help as well.

Life is hard, and we all struggle from time to time. Still, life is also beautiful, and you owe it to yourself to feel that beauty again. Pulling yourself out of a rut or a funk and getting back to feeling fabulous takes work. Still, I hope that you find the strength to do just that because, truly, you already are fabulous. You just need to believe it again.

For more inspiration, please join me over on Instagram or check out my motivational poetry on Amazon under L.A. Henry.




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