I’m freshly back to the mainland from spending almost 3 weeks in Hawaii. That means 3 weeks in sweltering sun, wild jungle tromps, seaside naps between ocean dips. In other words, my plane ride back to Denver was the first time I was fully clothed in nearly a month, and I could not be more content in my body.

This isn’t the first time I’ve experienced this phenomenon–despite enjoying waaaay more food and drink than I’m accustomed to, and my activity level changing drastically, I’m actually more comfortable in my body post-vaycay.

Sure, the golden tan may have something to do with it, but I’m convinced that assimilating to skimpier beach town attire does something to the psyche: We get to see real bodies doing real things with their real jiggles. When we USE our bodies to surf, dance, swim and tan, we stop criticizing them. When we see others doing the same thing without holding back, we stop judging and comparing.

This doesn’t only apply to the body: This is the exact reason most of my friends are powerful, vulnerable women who consistently express their emotions, needs and wants; Since I’m working toward feeling my feels without shame and expressing them, my squad is always there modeling and normalizing that for me.

Is it comfortable? Absolutely not–repatterning never is. Repatterning fucking hurts and is the kind of awkward that makes you embarrassed for humanity.

Wearing shorter shorts, baring bellies and communicating desires feels weird at first because we’re not used to doing it. But the more we practice, the more time we spend in the discomfort, the more we surround ourselves with people who reflect our Highest Selves, the more effortless it becomes.

Let us surround ourselves only with who lift us up, encourage us to bare our souls, and hold us in our vulnerability.

Let us cease fetishizing being small: in body, energy, gratitude, generosity, expressiveness and delight. And money. Get that big money, too.

Start recognizing how Gold you are in all your Glory.