مهارت دوم: اعتمادبه‌نفس

SKILL 2:

CONFIDENCE

Confidence matters.

Confidence is the belief that you can count on yourself—that you trust your gut in the place you find yourself in. It matters a great deal to anyone in business, particularly if your job or company requires you to promote yourself as a way to get to the next level. But it also matters a ton in your personal life and how you think about yourself and your dreams. I don’t think we talk about it enough.

If you feel like a crappy mom, if you feel totally unprepared to take on your role as mom each day, how likely are you to enjoy your life and show up well for your babies?

If you’ve always dreamed of doing a triathlon but you believe you’re terrible at any physical activity and are positive you’ll never figure it out, how likely are you to successfully take on the next race?

Confidence matters, and here’s the magic: confidence is a skill. It’s not something you’re born with. Certainly if you were raised in a particular way, then confidence might have been instilled in you from childhood, but if you weren’t so lucky, please know that it’s something you can develop and that you absolutely should pursue. Here are three key things I’ve found make a big difference for building up self-confidence: HOW YOU LOOK

This chapter is coming at you live from one of the most highfalutin beauty parlors in the Western Hemisphere. Nine Zero One Salon on Melrose Place in Los Angeles, to be specific. As I sit here, writing feverishly on my laptop, a team of beautiful twentysomethings are working to cover up my roots and add in highlights around my face. A myriad of tiny bowls filled with different colored potions are spread out in every direction. They’re painting color onto my hair with the precision of a pediatric heart surgeon, all while chatting amongst themselves about which house they’re renting for Coachella and whether or not Kristin Cavallari’s new diet book is any good. Their work is equal parts artistry and witchcraft, and when they finish I’ll look the best I’ve looked since the last time I left this chair. The entire procedure costs as much as a used Sebring convertible . . . and that’s just the coloring process.

I have hair extensions and eyelash extensions, and I got a boob job five years ago because I was tired of my post-breastfeeding chest resembling tube socks filled with pudding. I know not everyone approves of spending all of this time and money on your physical appearance. I know, because they send me notes. “How can you tell us to love ourselves the way we are but then spend money on makeup and hours getting your hair colored?” I understand that this might seem hypocritical to you, but you may have missed one key distinction. I do believe we should love ourselves the way we are . . . the way I am just happens to involve fake eyelashes.

In all seriousness, I love makeup. Have you ever seen those videos on YouTube where gals do different looks and use a hundred different makeups and fourteen different brushes just to shade one eyelid? That is artistry! That is a skill acquired over years of effort, and I bow down. When I put on my own makeup I think it’s fun, and I like how I look afterward. I don’t do it because you think I should look a certain way—or because society likes a well-contoured cheekbone—I do it because I like it.

I invest a lot of money and a lot of time into the way I look because it makes me feel—well shoot, I guess it makes me feel great, and when I feel great I feel confident.

Before I dig into this more, I’ve got to add some disclaimers. I’m positive that not everyone I know ties some of (or a lot of) their confidence into their looks. Some of us were raised right. Some of us had upbringings that said it’s your heart and your mind and your spirit that matter—that is how it should be. But just because it should be a certain way doesn’t mean it is. If I’m going to talk about what really works instead of what should work, then we’ve got to be truthful. Every woman I know—I cannot think of one single woman who doesn’t—feels more confident when she likes the way she looks.

Every single one.

Disclaimer number two? Confidence comes from you liking the way you look, not from you looking any certain way.

I love big hair and eyelashes and shoes with some kind of heel. My friends, Sami and Beans? They love sneakers and hats, and I’m pretty sure they think they look worse with a lot of makeup on. It’s not their preferred style. If the greatest makeup artist in the world gave them a full makeover, they would appreciate the artistry but hate the results. It would actually make them feel less confident because they wouldn’t recognize themselves when they looked in the mirror. Gaining confidence from your appearance isn’t about having a specific style; gaining confidence from the way you look is about having a personal style.

Do you love sneakers and button-downs? Are you into sleek and straight hair and minimal makeup? Is your wardrobe as bright and eclectic as your personality? Yes to all of it! Yes to any of it. Yes to knowing who and what you are and allowing it to be represented in the way you look.

I know there will be people who disagree with me. I know there will be people who read this and think I’m being superficial. I understand that it seems vapid to start a chapter on confidence and ground it in physical appearance—in how you look instead of how you feel—but I don’t think the alternative would be helpful. At least it wouldn’t have been helpful for me back in the day. I read so many books that told me to look inside or pray or say mantras or affirmations to make myself feel more confident. I did it for years as a way of boosting myself up. But I honestly never felt the part of a confident woman until I learned how to look the part of a confident woman. And the crazy thing is, my version of confidence probably looks nothing like yours. The point is not that you replicate someone else’s ideal. The point is that you figure out your own.

I wish this were a picture book so I could show you any shot of me from basically 2003 to 2016. In fairness to the Rachel of the past, I do feel like I improved over time. But it was also slow going and vaguely tragic, and it was entirely because I didn’t know how to dress for my body type or do my hair or my makeup. Not knowing how made me feel insecure, but I would never actually admit to that. Instead I loudly proclaimed that I wasn’t “that kind of girl.” I would swipe on a little eyeliner and some lip balm and throw my air-dried, frizzy hair in a bun, all while militantly telling myself that women who cared so much about their appearance were airheads who were focused on the wrong things.

So why was it, then, that every single time I had to get my hair and makeup done for press or TV, I felt like a hundred million dollars? How come I would plan date nights with my husband whenever I knew I was going to have makeup on from a shoot? How come I always felt better, had more energy and a better attitude, every time I felt like I looked great? Because when you like the way you look, you’ll love the way you feel.

This was a big learning curve for me as a grown-up, and it all started with a boob job.

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It’s true. I did get a boob job. It’s sort of a crazy thing to admit, but I’m doing it. I’m sure some of you are like, “Good for you, girl.” That’s everyone’s dream postbaby, and some of you are like, “You’re an embarrassment to feminists everywhere!” But I did it, and since I always try to be honest about the things I go through in my life, I’m telling you about it now.

I guess, let’s start with why.

Hmmm . . . how do I explain this delicately? When I got pregnant the first time, I had lovely little B-cups. I loved them, and they loved me back. After the baby was born, the milk came in, and those lovely Bs became E-cups. No, that’s not a typo. That’s a cup size. E . . . as in Elephant . . . as in Enormous . . . as in Yowza!

So the twins went from little to big and then back again. After that round I gave birth to two more children, which means that whole E for everyone rating—it happened two more times! After my last son, Ford, was born, I started exercising more and eating better, and I maintained a healthier weight, which was awesome. But that weight meant that my boobs, which were already in a little bit of a sad state, became . . . nothing. I don’t mean that they were worn out. I don’t mean that they looked tired. I mean that there was nothing there, no filler, no cushion. The cup, in this case, was definitely half-empty. So where before I’d never really thought about my breasts much, now I noticed them all the time.

I hated to wear a bathing suit. I hated to go without a bra or, even worse, topless in front of my husband. Mostly, I hated how focused I was on something so trivial. Dave never said anything. He approached them just like he always had, with reverence and the unfettered joy of a straight man seeing boobs, but my issues got worse. Honestly, I’m not one to wallow for long. I’m a fixer. And while I can’t fix everything, this was something I definitely could do something about. I decided I was going to have them lifted back up.

I found a doctor who was awesome and who also has kids, so she totally got what I was looking for. I made Dave go with me to the appointment, and I asked a million questions, which mostly had to do with whether I’d die on the table like the mom from Clueless and whether I’d lose sensitivity (because that might almost be as bad as death). They took some pictures for my chart, which, let me tell you, is freaking abysmal! Nobody needs to see their sad little boobs through the lens of an HD camera under intense lighting.

I ended up choosing the smallest implant they make, because every time I tried on the bigger sizes, I felt uncomfortable. I didn’t want to be someone new; I just wanted to feel like my old self. And, as Dave put it when I asked him what he thought, “You’re beautiful no matter what you do. Just choose something that makes you feel good.” Smart man.

We scheduled the appointment for surgery. I was so excited, but as the day got closer and closer, I started to freak out. Not about whether to do it, but about whether I’d live. I had three beautiful children at the time, and surgery is scary. What if something happened to me because of my own vanity? Can you imagine what a horrible legacy I’d leave behind?

“Oh, my mom was super healthy, but she wanted to look good in a tank top and now she’s dead!”

I made my friends promise that, in the case of my untimely demise, they would help perpetuate the myth for my children that I’d died in a Doctors Without Borders mission. Never mind that I’m not a doctor; in this made-up past I was much more valiant than I actually am.

The morning of the surgery, I was a mess. I started freaking out as soon as I got into the room with all the pre-op stuff, and Dave had to come sit with me. It didn’t help that my anesthesiologist turned out to be blond, tan, and basically a very, very young Ken doll. Like, whatever age you have to be to have just made it out of medical school, that’s what we were dealing with here. His name was Dr. Aiden, he said. He’d spent the morning surfing, he said.

Surfing.

All I could think while they wheeled me to the room was, Oh, precious Savior, this surfing child-doctor is going to see my boobs.

Sometimes when I get nervous, I manage those nerves by talking nonstop, so I was chattering nervously when the model-doctor put the IV into my arm. That IV, though I didn’t realize it at the time, was filled with some really strong drugs. I remember telling the assembled medical personnel that no anesthesiologist should look like this guy. He was supposed to be bald and sixty-plus years old . . . he should look like Danny DeVito. I remember all the nurses and doctors laughing at me, and I remember thinking, Shut up, Rach, shut up! but I was too far gone.

I could not shut up.

The last thing I remember saying before slipping off into oblivion was, “Please, Dr. Aiden, whatever you do, don’t look at my destroyed boobs!” Not. Even. Kidding.

And then I woke up, and . . . I lived! I was so excited to be alive that I didn’t even mind that it felt like my chest had gone twelve rounds with a prizefighter. Between the anxiety and pre-op and the unexpected presence of a ridiculously good-looking anesthesiologist to make me more nervous, not to mention the recovery time, it was all quite an ordeal. But, in the end, I absolutely thought it was worth it and I still do. Will you think so too? Maybe, maybe not. I understand that not everyone will agree with my choices, but that’s okay. The point was that it was something I wanted to do for myself, something I knew would make me feel more confident. I decide how I want to look, and when I made the choice to change something in such a drastic and permanent way, it made me start to consider other things I hadn’t before.

Remember, for years I’d told myself that women who cared about their looks were artificial and vapid. But now I’d done possibly the most artificial thing ever: I’d had someone put the medical equivalent of a balloon inside my body in an attempt to feel more confident. And you know what? It worked.

I loved my new boobs! Five years later, and I still love them.

But now I needed to reconcile the story I’d always told myself with the new reality I was facing. I had done something purely for vanity’s sake, but I didn’t feel like a vain person. I didn’t sit around all day obsessing over my looks, and I certainly didn’t judge people for theirs. So if it was possible to still be the same woman who was so focused on personal growth—on improving what was on the inside—then could it be possible that my former beliefs about how valuable, or not valuable, our outside appearances are were founded more in my insecurities than in actual evidence?

Well, obviously.

Our own insecurities on any subject either spark our curiosity or they feed our judgment. We either see the opportunity to grow and so allow ourselves to wonder, ask questions, and do research, or we become fearful and close down the idea immediately. Only an idiot would consider that. Only frivolous people try something new when they’re already on a path. Your insecurity makes it so that anyone who is doing it differently than you is an indictment on all the ways you’re not measuring up.

Making sweeping judgments about others or—more upsetting—about yourself isn’t helping you. Maybe you’ll try getting a blowout or try skinny jeans or try open-toe booties with a stacked heel, and maybe you’ll hate them. But you are never going to know if you aren’t open to considering it. If your self-confidence is through the roof, then keep doing whatever it is you’re doing now, but if you don’t feel good about the way you look, what are you waiting for?

Have you decided this is just what life is like? Stop buying into that! Life is whatever you believe it is. So what if you never knew how to dress in high school or how to style your hair? That was a long time ago, and you’re not that girl anymore. I know I sound like a broken record, but every single thing you want to know how to do is in a YouTube video right now for free. Curling my hair, putting on makeup, selecting the best outfits for short girls, how to wear white jeans—literally all things I’ve learned in the last five years. Don’t believe me? Go look on my Instagram and scroll on back. It won’t take you long until you’re like, Holy crap, what was she wearing? What was going on with that hair and those eyebrows?

Go ahead. I give you full permission to creep on my old photos. Just because you used to be a certain way doesn’t mean you have to stay that way. Just because you feel insecure doesn’t mean you can’t make a change. If you don’t like the way you look, if you don’t love your personal style, then figure it out! Make an investment! And don’t let anyone make you feel guilty about it.

HOW YOU ACT

About ten years ago I was a successful event planner in Los Angeles, and I’d built up a name for myself in the luxury wedding space. I loved the work, but after years of bridezillas and working through every weekend of the year, I longed to grow into the corporate space, which didn’t have any of the emotional baggage that wedding planning did.

As I mentioned earlier, I’ve always been in the habit of calling my shot, figuring out my finish line, and then creating a road map from there. In this instance, my dream client/event was the Sundance Film Festival. It was super glamorous and filled with celebrities and also took place in a really difficult setting. Producing the luxury of a Los Angeles event in a tiny mountain town in Utah that’s only accessible by a canyon likely to be covered with snow this time of year? I knew if I could pull that off it would launch my company into a new stratosphere.

Sundance became my goal.

So then I backed up from there. If I wanted to get some attention for producing a great event at Sundance, then it needed to be an event that would get notice. I did some research and learned that Entertainment Weekly was the major player at the festival. They threw the biggest parties, had the most celebrity attendees, and therefore got the most press coverage. They were the best, and I wanted to work with the best.

I was in no way qualified to do it. Not all events are created equal, and a film festival in Utah is something else entirely. Still, there was no way I would ever actually learn how to produce the type of event I wanted to create if I didn’t ever throw my hat in the ring. I went for it. I asked a friend of a friend of a friend to make an introduction, and I finally got a phone call with the events team.

I pitched my heart out.

They weren’t interested. They were very kind about it, but they knew I was out of my league. Like a dog that suddenly decides to walk upright on two legs, just because you might be able to do something doesn’t mean it’s the right choice. They weren’t even interested in having me bid for the job.

I was discouraged, but discouragement won’t get you anywhere. Every other week—for the next eighteen months—I followed up with my contact at Entertainment Weekly. I sent her party inspiration and details on new drinks. I told her the best DJs to hire and cute outfits the staff could wear. I intentionally added value wherever I could and never one time asked if they’d consider me for a job.

One day, the EW events person called out of the blue. “We need a caterer for Sundance. You do that, right?”

I absolutely did not own a catering company, but I had worked so hard to get this opportunity to partner with them that I jumped at the chance. “Of course! What do you need?” This moment bidding my first Sundance job is always the best example I have to give when someone asks me about the idea of “fake it ‘til you make it.” I hate that phrase, because it implies you’ve got nothing else to back it up. There’s a big difference between faking something that you have no idea how to do and having the confidence to step into a role that you don’t have full training for yet.

There’s a study that shows that when a man is considering a new job, he will apply for a position he feels he’s at least 60 percent qualified for. His confidence tells him that he’ll make up the other 40 percent by learning as he goes. By contrast, that same study shows that the average woman feels that she must be 100 percent qualified to apply for anything.1 Okay, think about this for a second. How on earth can you be qualified for something you’ve never done? It’s a catch-22. You won’t put yourself out there. You never try for fear of failure, so you never grow to the next level.

When it came to the Sundance opportunity, I absolutely wasn’t a caterer, but I had worked with and managed caterers as vendors for years, and I knew what would be involved. I had connections and resources and enough skill with research and planning to get myself the rest of the way there. I wasn’t faking it, because it never occurred to me that I wouldn’t be able to figure it out if I needed to. I had years of practice to back me up—certainly nothing at that level, but I was confident that I hadn’t ever let a client down and I certainly wasn’t about to start. I would never take money from someone for a service I didn’t have the ability to provide. But I also would never have been able to grow my skill set if I hadn’t continuously pushed myself to the very edge of it.

That single Sundance event launched my business into an entirely new level, just as I had believed it might. I turned that first year as a caterer into the next year as an event planner. Soon we were producing lounges and events for every studio and brand that wanted to celebrate in Park City. Sundance became my most profitable contract. In fact, it’s what paid for the start of The Chic Site and hiring staff when I finally decided to transition into this space.

So many good things came out of a willingness to act confident even when I didn’t always feel confident. It’s like anything else. You can make yourself feel anything you set your mind to as long as you back it up with action. I acted confident in what I could do as an event planner, and then I backed it up with research and hard work to arm myself with the skills necessary to pull it off.

WHO YOU HANG OUT WITH

I know I’ve already touched on this a bit with the whole “you become the five people you hang out with most” topic, but it bears repeating here. Years ago my sister had graduated from cosmetology school and was unsure where to go from there. She liked the idea of working in the beauty industry in some capacity, but she wasn’t confident about building up a client roster in this new industry—a must for any hairstylist. She tried several different assistant jobs at salons, and while she liked interacting with the people, she was still struggling to find her footing.

As fate would have it, an acquaintance of mine sent out an email with a job description she was looking to fill. The acquaintance owned a spa, and they needed a manager. They’d tried several different people in the role, but nobody seemed to be a good fit. I read through the description, and with every passing line item I got more and more excited. I immediately forwarded it to Mel.

“You should totally apply for this job!” I scream-texted her.

She still wasn’t sold on the job she was then working in the salon, so she went ahead and pursued—and subsequently landed—this role as a spa manager.

She was so nervous that first week about how it would all work out. She was new to LA and still learning to navigate the traffic and fast pace, and like most LA newbies she was a bit intimidated that she wouldn’t dress right or speak correctly in this fancy spa near Beverly Hills.

A few weeks into her time there, I received an email from my acquaintance thanking me profusely for sending Melody her way. She could not stop singing her praises as an exceptional employee. This didn’t surprise me at all. I knew that my sister was smart and gracious, and I knew she was an incredibly hard worker. What was surprising is what happened about six months later.

Melody became a totally different woman.

She was calm and poised and totally confident in herself and her skills. She wasn’t anxious anymore about her new city or her new role or what she would do next. She wasn’t afraid to give her opinion, and she didn’t worry about what people thought.

I remember saying to Dave, “Have you noticed how great Mel is doing? I wonder what caused such a big shift?”

A few weeks later I went to the spa she worked at to get a facial, and it hit me. Melody went from being at a school filled with young people who were unsure about where they were going or how they’d make a career to working for a successful business filled with—wait for it—confident women. All day long she interacted with coworkers who were at the height of their professions—they had to be to work at a place like this. All day long she helped clients who were successful in life and in business—they had to be to afford a place like this. Without even trying to or being aware of it, she’d absorbed their confidence like osmosis.

You want to be more confident? Hang out with people who are.

I know that confidence isn’t often described as a learned behavior, but I truly believe it’s a skill you can learn like any other. Be mindful of the people you hang out with, the words you use, and the way you present yourself to the world around you. Pay attention to the times or the circumstances that make you feel the most self-assured, and then work to cultivate more opportunities like those. This shift in perception, particularly for any of you who are in business, can truly be life changing.