It’s hard to talk about body image without using a slew of cliches. But the reality of the situation is that body image is a major societal issue. We have been bred to judge and criticize ourselves and one another brutally, glorifying thinness and finding offense in anything other. We tear people down for sport, for validation, for the sheer fact that it has become our initial reaction to do so.
Poolside cocktails, string bikinis, sky-high heels, packed beach parties and all-night dance clubs. Ah, Spring break in Ibiza.
For people in any walk of life, inspiration is everything. When inspiration hits, it’s like all at once you turn to magic. Your senses are heightened. Your pulse is racing at a speed that should make your hands shake, but you are so sure of what you have to do that you feel no hesitation. You’ve stepped into a world that’s more vivid than the one you spend most of your days in and, if for only a moment, there are no limits. We think more deeply, question incessantly, explore fearlessly and above all, we create.
I can’t measure my success by my GPA or another tick mark on my lifelong tally of semesters completed. The close of another school year always meant we could say with certainty that we achieved something. We were one step closer to that seemingly far-off goal of entering the real world. But no one really told us how we were supposed to measure success once we actually entered it.
I recently went on a weekend getaway to Rome as a first date. It probably would have been much more awkward if I was in a city any less cool, but as fate (or my dates preference) would have it, we found ourselves in Rome.