A reader from outside Cleveland wrote to me today and asked me if I ever felt insecure about myself around other girls. You know, being a funny tiny human who makes jokes all the time and spends her time eating hummus instead of preparing my bikini body for the bikin-ocalypse, she wondered if this was a thing I ever felt.

I just want to take a moment and say Fuck Yes.

Living in NYC, where half of the female population are 5’11 females who look really good in bustier tops while holding cigarettes, I can’t help but sometimes be like ‘oh shit, what the hell are my hips doing here? Did I invite them to this party?’ There are always days when I see people who are good at flipping their hair/wearing red lipstick/giggling and I cringe. This is because when I do these things, I sort of look like a Muppet. I don’t necessarily enjoy watching other people getting hit on by attractive men at bars while I just sit awkwardly and think ‘how much are these bacon wrapped things I can eat here?’ Of course, it doesn’t help that I also have lots of friends who smile and look pretty all the time and I just make Jerry Bruckheimer jokes so one of us is successful with dating and one is not. There are days I sit in the minestrone soup of sadness and wonder why the hell I can’t be one of those people other people take sunlit photographs of and be all like ‘how beautiful is she?’ This is because there are days when I’m a fucking idiot.

It’s stupid.

I never had abs you can bounce things off of. I use my humor as a defense mechanism. I’m short as hell and my hair isn’t always as ‘not frizzy’ as I want it to be. I can’t always be bothered to shave my legs, and my makeup is usually running. There are people who have made me feel ‘beautiful’ and there are people who have made me feel no so beautiful. I hate the word beautiful, except when describing a sandwich or Ryan Gosling. However, as many times as I have felt insecure about this, I have also really fucking loved it. Because it’s me, it’s my thing, and I don’t particularly look good in floral rompers.

I’d mostly like to tell you how important it is to just get the hell over yourself. You’re fine, and shut up about other people. It’s important to like yourself, as you are not just a ghost spirit who can inhabit other people’s bodies and change who you are. I enjoy being funny. I like that my feet stink and that I sometimes don’t paint my toes. I hated the days when I measured my cereal cups and counted calories so my collarbones could stick out more. I also hated the days when I tried to be less funny than the guy who was hitting on me so I could make him feel more comfortable. I’m not going to do that shit anymore because it’s a lie and I’m sick of lying about who I am. I’m a ragged, nasty ass bitch! I want to be that all the time! Pretty is such a boring thing to want to be, because it’s a relative thing and it’s not measurable. I’ll always be pretty to someone, and the most important ‘someone’ I need to feel that for is fucking ME. So yes, tonight I wore lacy bicycle shorts and a vintage shirt and I felt good so I didn’t give a shit. 

Also, I’m a really hungry person. So I’d like to eat copious amounts of chocolate cheese fried piles so if I have a little bit of stomach fat so be it. Fuck it, I run sometimes! Fuck it, I don’t look as bitchily attractive as Megan Fox! Megan Fox doesn’t even seem to be that funny, I bet I could outjoke her! Which isn’t the point, really. The point is I am me and she is her and that’s just the end of the story.

Remember that people will like you for all these things, but mostly remember that you need to like yourself for these things too. Getting hit on is nice. Having days where YOU feel good about yourself is way, way better. The real point isn’t to find the person who likes you for your flaws, the point is to feel like your ‘flaws’ aren’t flaws at all. They are things about you that make you YOU.

Please, be your fucking self. You are great, and the pretty girl who gets all the guys takes big ass shits in the bathroom, and you are pretty to people too. It all evens out in the end. So eat a fucking burger. Have some stretch marks. Have some bad days, and I’m not perfect and will continue to have those too. Still, never forget that you are just fine the way you are, Bridget Jones Colin Firth Style. Be exactly the kind of person you want to be, because comparing yourself to other people doesn’t do jack squat. Eat. Drink. Be happy. 

Be yourself, people. You can’t help it, after all. It’s just the truth.