She almost didn’t book either.

Hi.

I don’t know you, but I do know you.

Because I was you.

I’m 38. I work a full-time job where I’ve been pushing hard for a promotion, constantly trying to prove myself, and when I’m not working… I’m sneaking snacks in the pantry while my kids are arguing. My days are a blur of responsibilities, to-do lists, and making sure everyone else is taken care of. Most days I throw my hair up and call it “good enough,” and somewhere along the way… I just stopped really seeing myself. I don't even really look in the mirror anymore.

I was the girl who stared at her phone for weeks… clicking the website, closing it, telling myself “maybe later.” I was the girl who thought I needed to lose 20 pounds first. Who wondered if I’d feel awkward. Who almost convinced herself she just “wasn’t that type of girl.”

And I almost didn’t book.

But something in me kept coming back to it.

Late at night, scrolling… looking at photos I’d never admit I loved. Thinking, I wish I could look like that… I wish I could feel like that.

And then I’d close the tab and go back to my normal life.

Until one day, I caved. I booked it. Terrified. Second guessing. Fully expecting to feel out of place, thinking "she's totally going to see my cellulite."

The morning of my shoot, I almost canceled. I sat in my car for a full five minutes before going in.

When I finally walked in, I was still so nervous… I sat down for hair and makeup, and honestly—that part surprised me the most. We just… talked.

About normal things. Work, kids, life, how busy everything feels all the time. I was still nervous, don’t get me wrong—but it felt like a really nice distraction. Like I wasn’t being thrown straight into something intimidating. It gave me a minute to breathe… to settle in… to feel a little more like myself again. At this point I thought, even if I hate my pictures, this part was so nice. I looked REALLY good. I haven't looked like this in a long time.

And then…

Within 10 minutes of shooting… I was laughing.

Within 20 minutes… I forgot to be nervous. I wanted to do more.

And by the end? I didn’t even recognize the girl in the photos—in the best way.

Not because I looked different. But because I finally saw myself different. I can't believe that's me.

Confident. Soft. Powerful. Beautiful.

I cried when I saw them. Not sad tears—just this overwhelming feeling of “that’s really me?”

But what I didn’t expect what happened after.

It didn’t just stay in those photos.

It’s not like I suddenly had all this extra time—I’m still busy, still a mom, still chasing that promotion. But I started… trying a little more.

Not because I felt like I had to. But because I finally saw that it was worth it.

If I can look like that now… if that version of me is already in there… why wouldn’t I try a little more?

I take a minute to actually do my hair instead of throwing it up without thinking. I actually try to remember to put moisturizer on at night now. Mascara doesn’t hurt—and it doesn’t take long. Those little things feel good and started to matter again.

I speak up at work more now.

I don’t second guess myself as much in meetings. I share my ideas instead of keeping them to myself. I think I even walk a little differently.

And this might sound crazy…But I feel like I’m remembering more.

Little memories I haven’t thought about in years. Versions of me that felt free-er, more confident, more alive. Moments where I actually felt like myself.

At first I thought I was imagining it… but I don’t think I am.

I think when you start to feel like yourself again…you start to remember who you were before you stopped.

They're just little things.

But they add up.

I catch my reflection now and think, okay… there you are.

I feel more like me again.

Not a different version. Not a “better” version.

Just… me.

Nothing about me actually changed.

I didn’t lose the weight first. I didn’t wait until life slowed down. I didn’t become someone else.

I just finally allowed myself to see what was already there.

I look so good.

And I almost missed that.

I almost missed this version of me… over a number on a scale, over a racing pulse, over sweaty palms, over fear, over “maybe someday.”

So this is me, talking to you—the girl who keeps almost booking.

You don’t need to change first. You don’t need to be more ready. You don’t need to be “that kind of girl.”

You just need to decide you’re worth doing something a little scary for.

Because on the other side of it?

Is a version of you that you’ve probably been waiting your whole life to meet.

Don’t wait as long as I did.

— A girl who almost didn’t book… but is so, so glad she did.

With Love,

Casey