I wrote and illustrated my first book when I was five years old as a part of my kindergarten class’s Young Authors program. With all my worldly knowledge, I came up with a “unique” story about an ugly adolescent duck who had no friends due to his looks. Once the duck became beautiful, i.e., conventionally attractive, he had all the friends in the world and a duck-wife and duck-child to boot.

Yes, I had copied Hans Christian Andersen’s The Ugly Duckling. Aside from the title — mine was The Sad Little Duck — there was one key difference.

Rather than the original storyline where the ugly duckling matured and realized he was a beautiful and misunderstood swan all along, the titular character in my story only became beautiful through the help of a fairy. The escape from his ugliness was, literally, a divine and supernatural intervention.

I’ve felt like that duck, pre-magical glow-up, for most of my life.

Now, well into my adult life, I can see just how much it’s impacted me, eroding my confidence, my self-worth, and even my identity at times. “You’re beautiful the way you are,” some will say. “Looks don’t matter anyways,” others will say. I know I’m not alone in the struggle to appreciate myself, especially when it comes to physical appearance — and these platitudes don’t always help. They can even be counterproductive, making me feel worse about why I can’t just “love myself” as easily as others can.

“The never-ending mental cycle of either being too much or too little is catching up with me.”

This has all been on my mind lately as I navigate a new season of my life and my body. The PCOS hair growth has come out in spades on my neck and my chin, the laugh lines and crow’s feet are emerging, and the UV damage is laying claim to my chest as the summer sun relentlessly shines. The weight I had struggled to gain my whole life, when I thought I was “too skinny,” has finally appeared in all its glory (and guess what? I don’t feel great about that, either). The never-ending mental cycle of either being too much or too little is catching up with me.

It’s especially evident in the moments where I do like how I look; they highlight just how low my self-image has sunk. A few weeks ago, I finally got a haircut by a professional (after a decade of cutting it myself). I had walked in a rush to the last-minute appointment, arriving sweaty and feeling generally unkempt — but I was welcomed warmly by a cadre of stylists and promptly ushered to the shampooing chair. I probably look awful, I thought as I tried to make small talk. “You can relax your neck,” said my stylist when I caught myself tensing up in the seat, still worried about how my face looked and how poorly groomed my hair had been (to be honest, I’ve been living in ponytails this summer, rarely washing and never styling my hair).

“I believe it is okay to like how you look, and it is even okay to not like how you look. What’s not okay is limiting yourself based on your beliefs about your own worthiness.”

But something about that appointment — the kindness, the camaraderie, the stories — helped me feel beautiful for the first time in a long while. It brought me to tears. Of course, a new haircut can do wonders for you, but I think the care and the hour of sitting face-to-face with my own reflection in the mirror truly unlocked something in me. I wondered how I might live my life if I liked — or maybe even loved — how I looked.

Let me start off by saying my absolute belief when it comes to looks: It is okay to like how you look, and it is even okay to not like how you look. What’s not okay is limiting yourself based on your beliefs about your own worthiness. We don’t have to live entirely in self-improvement or in self-acceptance; we’re humans, and come with millions of emotions, ideas, and influences that are unique to each of us. But when we stop ourselves from living the life we want to lead because of our limiting beliefs, that’s when these self-image concerns become a prison.

Experts say you don’t have to arrive at “love” right away. In fact, you can start with neutrality. Research in body image psychology shows that replacing judgment with simple acknowledgment of your body — “This is my face today,” “These are my arms” — helps steadily reduce the sting of comparison. So wherever you’re at, you can start working your way towards a neutral perception of your appearance, which might help you ease into the next phase. For me, I’m objectively accommodating certain facts about where I’m at; like wearing a little extra sunscreen on my red chest, and sizing up my jeans for fall to fit my changing frame.

But how do you move the needle from “I am a human with a body” to “I am a beautiful human with a body I love”?

How to move towards a more loving self-image

For me, the turning point isn’t just about overhauling my look or waiting on a fairy godmother to sweep in and change everything. It’s come quietly, in rituals and routines that anchor me. I think back to the years when getting out the door meant putting on clothes that felt like “me” — sometimes for the office, sometimes for a first date, sometimes simply for the pleasure of recognizing myself in the mirror. Back then, putting in that extra bit of effort felt less like vanity and more like permission to see myself as someone worth showing up for.

Those small acts — wearing a favorite shirt, slicking on lipstick, spritzing on perfume — were their own kind of gentle evidence I was worth the investment. They told me I could be more than just the version of myself who rolls out of bed for another day of Zoom calls with a slicked-back low ponytail, looking like a founding father.

“Small acts — wearing a favorite shirt, slicking on lipstick, spritzing on perfume — were their own kind of gentle evidence I was worth the investment.”

Of course, life rarely lets us rest in these rituals. Our routines change, our bodies change, the world changes around us. For many of us, we started working from home, living more in isolation, and rebuilding our routines over and over again in the past five years. So what can we do?

I spoke with therapist Jared Broussard, MA, LPC, who offered a perspective on self-image that’s equal parts playful and profound. He suggests borrowing from pro wrestling — a world in which performers step into heightened, theatrical versions of themselves, known in the industry as “kayfabe”. The lesson from the ring: you can try on your own bold character, even for a moment, and choose actions that align with the kind of person you want to become. If my “wrestler version” would speak up at work or take the risk of showing up, then maybe that’s a cue for me to step into the life I actually want, whether or not I feel ready.

I’m all for the classic “attach sticky notes with affirmations to your mirror” advice, but something about the agency of creating myself from the ground up in this way has stuck with me. If “wrestler Emily” is someone with my same values, unfaltering self-confidence, and a healthier self-image, then why shouldn’t I strive to live in that direction? I can practice affirmations and my takedown slogans in the mirror; I can contain multitudes.

This also falls in line with the Acceptance and Commitment Therapy approach that Broussard has been using for the large majority of his career. Essentially, this therapeutic approach is about accepting your thoughts and experiences, seeing yourself fully, and making changes in your life that align with your values. If pro-wrestling isn’t your schtick, you might try envisioning your life as a movie, imagining the inscription on your tombstone, or any number of these metaphor-driven exercises and considerations. Acceptance is a difficult journey, but an important start down the road towards a healthier self-image.

“This work can be really hard to get started, but if you can be brave enough to take that first step, no matter how small it is, that will help build some momentum,” says Broussard. “You can double down on the next day to continue building on and moving forward. Bet on yourself and make it happen.”

“If you can be brave enough to take that first step, no matter how small it is, that will help build some momentum. […] Bet on yourself and make it happen.”

Jared Broussard, MA, LPC

I still feel like the sad little duck from my story some days — but acknowledging the ways I haven’t been kind to myself in the past has helped me come a long way. It’s a practice in self-forgiveness that is both nonlinear and ongoing. As I’m re-learning to love the face that looks back at me in the mirror, I’ve become more deliberate with how I care for myself, not as punishment for what I lack, but as personal kindness for who I am and what I’m worthy of. Here are some of the exercises for learning to like how I look that I’ve put in place with the help of routines, loved ones, and therapy:

  • Creating new routines and reestablishing old ones to keep me caring for my physical wellness and hygiene. I make intentional time for small grooming rituals (yes, even the PCOS neck hairs), using colorful safety razors and great-smelling soap to help me feel joyful about something that’s previously been…well, a bummer.
  • Wearing clothing and using skincare products that make me feel like myself, even if I have to change up some sizes or layer on extra SPF. Psst — a shimmery sunscreen makes you feel like a goddess and makes sun care a lot more fun.
  • Practicing affirmations that start with neutrality and move into more positive language. This can happen in tandem with spending one more minute in front of the mirror to emphasize what I like about myself, or even when I take a selfie for no one else but myself. Heck, I’ve even tried drawing portraits of myself. Connecting kind words with your appearance is a powerful exercise.
  • Boosting my self-esteem in ways that go beyond the mirror: learning new things, finishing creative projects I’m proud of, and getting my endorphins up through physical movement or laughter. While self-deprecating humor has its painful drawbacks, comedy in general is a helpful tool for reframing how we feel.
  • Reducing my exposure to social media accounts that drive me into unfavorable comparison cycles. The less time I spend doom-scrolling, the more I notice my own wins — the way my body lets me live, not just how it appears.
  • Enlisting the help of my friends to help me re-frame my negative self-talk as their energy allows. It becomes a kind of game, where we each lovingly and playfully call out each time we say something unkind about ourselves. (And yes, the right friends will hang out with you and care for you no matter your appearance, unlike my sad girl story from childhood).

You might also find me crafting my alter-ego as a professional wrestler, just know that it’s all in the name of repairing a self-image that’s been KO’ed a few times too many.

“The mirror’s not the destination. It’s just one more place to practice recognizing yourself — as worthy, whole, and profoundly lovable.”

There are days, of course, when even these reframes and rituals feel out of reach and I’d rather retreat into familiar scripts. When I catch myself sliding into negativity, I remember the words in this Reddit response that absolutely stop me in my tracks: “If I talk negatively about my body I’m insulting the gifts my ancestors gave me. […] to not love [my body] would be to in a way not love my mother and the sacrifices her body and the other women’s bodies in my bloodline made for me to be here.”

If I can’t do it for myself on some days, then I can absolutely love on the long line of people who have painstakingly crafted me into who I am today. It’s not about achieving perfection or looking like an Instagram filter in real life. Loving how you look, right where you’re at, is about experiencing life to its fullest without waiting to meet some imaginary standard.

So go out there and try your new “character,” thank your body for getting you here, pick one small ritual, and keep stepping into the world anyway. The rest will follow, even if it’s slow, even if you have to hype yourself up along the way. After all, the mirror’s not the destination. It’s just one more place to practice recognizing yourself — as worthy, whole, and profoundly lovable, long before any fairy ever comes.

Emily McGowan is the Editorial Director at The Good Trade. She studied Creative Writing and Business at Indiana University, and has over ten years of experience as a writer and editor in sustainability and lifestyle spaces. Since 2017, she’s been discovering and reviewing the top sustainable home, fashion, beauty, and wellness products so readers can make their most informed decisions. Her editorial work has been recognized by major publications like The New York Times and BBC Worklife. You can usually find her in her colorful Los Angeles apartment journaling, playing with her cat, or gaming. Say hi on Instagram!