A Love Letter to Women Everywhere (And to My Big Teeth)
The other day, I sat outside our little neighborhood café, determined to take a break from my phone and just… be. You know the feeling — trying to ground yourself in the moment, in real life, not the scrolling one.
As I looked around, the scene was exactly what you’d expect on a sunny morning. Dads in Nike Killshots with toddlers waddling beside them, chubby-cheeked babies napping in strollers, and dogs with that soulful, mildly panicked look, wondering if their humans had disappeared forever behind those café doors. (Spoiler: they hadn’t.)
But what struck me most was the women.
Women of all ages — college students in oversized sweatshirts, moms juggling croissants and juice boxes, grandmothers with silver ponytails and steady eyes. They were sipping coffee, chatting with friends, wiping crumbs off laughing toddlers, waving to someone across the street. There was this effortless radiance in all of them.
Maybe I’m getting older. Maybe I’m getting sentimental. But honestly? I wanted to stand up and walk over to every woman there and say: Do you even realize how stunning you are? Not just in a “you look nice today” kind of way — I mean truly radiant.
We live in a world that constantly tells women to pick themselves apart. “Fix this.” “Hide that.” “Erase those years.” But if I could have taken a little video of each of them — smiling in the sunlight, lost in conversation, carrying the easy grace of a life lived — and played it back for them, I bet they’d finally see it too. The beauty in their warmth. The humanity in their joy. The small, glowing magic in ordinary moments.
It almost brought me to tears.
So today, let’s flip the script. Let’s celebrate ourselves the way we’d celebrate someone we love dearly. Not when we’re dressed up. Not when we’re posing for the perfect picture. But just as we are — messy bun, laugh lines, coffee in hand.
I’ll go first: one thing I love about the way I look? My big teeth.
When I was growing up, strangers would sometimes stop me on the street and say I looked like Amanda Peet or Nancy Kerrigan or Kelly McGillis — I guess they all had what I like to call the “strong-tooth look,” haha. And while I used to be self-conscious, I’ve come to appreciate how big my smile is. It shows up for friends. It lights up when I’m around kids. It’s part of the way I show love.
And now, I’d love to know: what’s something you love about the way you look? Don’t hold back. There’s power in naming it — in honoring it.
Because here’s the truth: we’re all radiant in our own ways. Not despite the laugh lines or the curves or the quirks — but because of them.
Humanity. Small moments. Big smiles. That’s where the magic is.
