First things first. Go get yourself a drink. I don’t care if it’s Diet Coke, wine, apple juice, kombucha, a pina colada, or a milkshake. Go get it.
Next, I need you to raise that glass.
Yep, we’re having a toast. A toast to honoring our sexy selves, in all of our fabulosity. To feeling good, eating good, and looking good. Let’s do this.
Here’s to changing in the locker room without embarassment.
Here’s to the second cookie. And the third. And the fourth, if you can hang. (I totally can.)
Here’s to the bikini-wearers, tankini-wearers, monokini-wearers, and skinny dippers. Rock it.
Here’s to checking yourself out in every window you walk past.
Here’ s to taste testing while cooking. That didn’t used to be allowed. (Because how would I track the calories?!)
Here’s to skinny jeans, whether they’re 00′s, 10′s, 14′s, 24′s, or beyond.
Here’s to never getting “back on track.” Where the hell is this track anyway? I don’t think it’s very fun there. I’m guessing there aren’t any donuts allowed.
Here’s to cellulite.
Here’s to strong thighs that help us squat over dirty toilets in gas stations and bars.
Here’s to actually cooking the stuff on your “To Make” Pinterest board, not just torturing yourself with it.
Here’s to selfies.
Here’s to an iPhone filled with fun apps, NOT My Fitness Pal or Weight Watchers.
Here’s to walking or dancing or Tae Kwon Do-ing — whatever makes you feel good.
Here’s to amazing shopping trips. Ones that don’t include crying in a dressing room.
Here’s to not justifying food choices to anybody.
Here’s to being unapologetic about your life.
Here’s to kale and Reese’s and fettuccine Alfredo (homemade, of course).
Here’s to sexy.
Here’s to confident.
Here’s to YOU.
Here’s to us.
Now chug, chug, chug.
And don’t forget to make eye-contact, or else you get seven years of bad sex.
In the comments: What are you cheers-ing to?