I feel ugly today. And that is not due to the fact that I am only wearing chapstick and mascara or that I didn’t style my hair just so or that I didn’t pull together the perfect outfit. Sometimes, you wake up, you look in the mirror, and you don’t exactly feel your best.

Except, that is not really how it went for me this morning. This morning I got out of bed, I washed my face, and I thought, my skin is looking pretty nice today!

Throughout high school and college I had a problem-free complexion. I always knew to thank my genes and bless my Noxzema on the reg and prayed I could somehow evade a breakout forever. Alas, my skin decided I’ve had it easy for too long and deemed now – my mid-twenties – a good time to rebel. It’s hard, but today I felt good about it. Great about it, even.

This morning I also thought my hair looked nice. I treated myself to a hair mask last night and let it air dry in a tight braid. I’ve always liked the wavy way my hair dries in a braid, ever since I was little and crimping was all the rage. There’s something oddly satisfying about it.

When I went to get dressed, I congratulated myself on not turning away from my own reflection as I so often do. Sometimes I just don’t want to see my body, for fear of picking it apart and not focusing on what about it I love. But today I looked, and today I saw a body that I felt proud of.

So, I put on my chapstick and mascara, let my locks fly free, and walked out the door feeling happy and confident.

Days like these can sometimes be hard to come by for girls like me. It can be so hit or miss. And I rarely speak of my insecurities to anyone other than the people I love because it never comes off in the refreshing way it does when celebrities speak about theirs. No one tells a regular woman she is brave for acknowledging her cellulite or the ridge in her nose or whatever she dislikes the most about herself. It comes off as fishing for compliments, or people will say you’re absurd, or you’ll just being silenced altogether. So, I try not to talk about it, but I remember to be grateful for the days I wake up and am good with the person I see.

How did I get here, then? How did I get right here, to this moment, feeling like I could crumple into a ball? I went on Instagram during my commute. That was it, that was all it took for my positive vibes to escape from my clutch and flutter away.

And I hate saying that because I am aware of how weak that makes me sound. Or I guess, how weak it makes me feel. (That’s right, I’m insecure about having insecurities.) I know saying it out loud makes me look as though I don’t know how much photoshop goes into a picture, or how much money it takes to get the perfect pout or body or whatever you’re after. But that is not really it for me, I know all of that. I’ve always known all of that.

It’s the real girls. It is the women around me that I end up comparing myself to. For some reason, it is harder to get past when you feel like you’re all on the same playing field.

I’ve been comparing myself to others since as far back as I can remember. I felt like I was the only 3rd grader with baby fat, and I didn’t understand why no one else looked like me. Or better yet, why I didn’t look like everyone else. You would think by now, years after I shed the baby fat, that I would’ve learned that lesson.

And there have been times where I do think that I have learned that lesson. But then I remember that I didn’t go to the beach once last summer because I couldn’t bear to think of taking off my coverup. My friends were sitting in my driveway, waiting for me to come out, and I would just tell them I could not go. I had to feed the dogs. Water the plants. Take in the mail. I simply couldn’t go.

Knowing that finding your inner beauty can only come from yourself, though, can sometimes that can be the hardest pill to swallow. My father told me I looked beautiful every single morning as I got ready for school. My mother always makes sure I know I am gorgeous inside and out, no matter what. My boyfriend typically cannot fathom my feeling this way, but I know he does everything he can to understand it. The thing is, is that my insecurities have never stemmed anywhere but from within and it is not up to other people to fix them. Although I will forever appreciate those that try to patch me up, self-love can of course only come from yourself.

Body image is something I have always wanted to speak on but I never could get the courage up, so this is very difficult for me. It is time to be a little brave, however, and finally say hey, I’ve been there. I’m still sometimes there.

I do have days where I feel beautiful and smart and powerful and more than enough. I thought today would be one of them. It did’t work out that way, but that’s alright. Each day is a lesson learned. Loving yourself is a process and it is important to remember that it’s alright if you’re struggling with it.

And, most of all, it’s ok to say it out loud.