LauraTully.co

I’ve had the privilege of being in the closets of so many different women, all ready to finally feel like themselves again,

And what I’ve learned is that it’s never really about the clothes. It’s about the story we’ve been telling ourselves about who we are, what we deserve to take up space in, and whether we’re allowed to be seen.

Most of us have been dressing for survival. For comfort. For “good enough.” For the version of ourselves we think other people need us to be.

These 10 lessons are what I keep coming back to, for my clients and honestly, for myself. Swipe through and save. Something might land.

Ten years ago I stopped processing my hair.
At first, I told myself it was about starting over.
But what it really became was a slow unraveling, of who I thought I had to be to belong.

There’s something about choosing your natural state that asks you to meet yourself honestly.

For me, that meant standing in front of the mirror with curls that did their own thing, and learning to see beauty in that. Not tamed. Not polished. Just true.

And it’s wild how much our reflection can hold a story—
about identity, belonging, perception, and what we’ve learned to perform.

My hair taught me that showing up as myself will always invite both curiosity and misunderstanding.
But it also reminded me that how I show up is ultimately mine to define.

What stories are you uncovering about how you show up?

xx
Laura

Real talk from a woman who’s exited the façade of belonging.
Because the language of “a seat at the table” comes with rules that were never meant to serve us.

The table was never neutral.
It was built inside systems that weren’t designed for women to hold power, 
and yet we’ve been told to fight for a chair like it’s the prize.

But not all seats are equal.
Race, class, age, and sexuality shape who gets heard and who carries the extra labor just to stay.

So maybe it’s not about getting the seat anymore.
Maybe it’s about rebuilding what the table even means
and creating spaces where every woman has power without asking permission.

My dad called it “the imitation of life.”
A way of living that looks full, but isn’t really yours.
We’ve all done it.
Performing instead of being.
Pleasing instead of aligning.

But the real power?
Rewriting the terms.
And remembering, you were never not worthy.

Save this if you needed the reminder 🫶🏾