🟣 When life rewrites your story

Hey there, my raunchy little radish!

Let's talk about identity theft.

No, not the kind where some dickwad maxes out your credit card buying 50 inflatable T-Rex costumes. 

(Although, not gonna lie, that sounds like a hell of a party.)

I'm talking about the sneaky, insidious kind. 

The kind where life decides to play Russian roulette with your self-image.

One day, you're strutting your stuff, feeling like Beyoncé at the Super Bowl HalfTime Show. 

The next?

You're wondering if you accidentally swapped bodies with your gran.

Maybe it's:

- Your body deciding to throw a hormone party you didn't RSVP to

- Parts of you deciding they need "assistance" to function (I see you, reading glasses)

- Or just the general fuckery of time making you feel like you're past your "use by" date

And suddenly, the person in the mirror doesn't feel like... well, you.

But here's the thing:

Your identity isn't written in permanent marker.

It's written in goddamn glitter pen, and you can rewrite that shit any time you want.

When life tries to redefine you, you've got two choices:

1. Roll over and accept it like a sad burrito

2. Fight back like a crazy motherfucker

And let me tell you, option 2 is way more fun.

Because here's what happens when you choose to fight:

That, my dear, is what happens when you decide to be the author of your own story.

When you look at life's curveballs and say, "Nice try, asshole. But I'm not done yet."

So here's my challenge to you:

What part of your identity are you ready to reclaim?

What story are you ready to rewrite?

Because let me tell you, there's nothing quite like the feeling of walking out of that gym (or any challenge) feeling like you've just drop kicked your doubts in the face.

If you're ready to start your own badass comeback story, Team Henley is here to be your cheerleader, and occasional drill sergeant.

Click here to apply for coaching and let's show life who's really in charge.

Remember: You're not just the main character in your story. You're the goddamn author.

So pick up that glitter pen and start writing.

Big love and even bigger belief in you,

Rachel 🥰

P.S. Seriously, though. Fifty inflatable T-Rex costumes? If that was you, call me. We need to party.