I wish I knew the power of good posture when I was in high school.
The Slouch That Made Me Invisible
In high school, I was tall and lanky, so I slouched to try and seem smaller and not stand out. I’d hunch my shoulders and look at the ground when I walked. I thought I was blending in, but really, I was just making myself look insecure and unapproachable. I wish I had known then that standing up straight with your shoulders back doesn’t make you look arrogant; it makes you look confident. Good posture is the simplest, most powerful way to change how the world perceives you and how you feel about yourself.
I wish I knew how to make and hold eye contact confidently when I was starting my first job.
The Shifty Eyes That Screamed “Insecure”
At my first job, I was terrified of speaking to senior colleagues. When they would talk to me, my eyes would dart all over the place—at the floor, at the ceiling, anywhere but their face. I thought I was just being respectful, but my shifty eye contact was sending a clear signal: I lacked confidence and conviction. I wish I knew then that holding steady, relaxed eye contact is a sign of respect and shows that you believe in what you’re saying. It’s a fundamental building block of professional presence.
I wish I knew to speak slowly and deliberately instead of rushing my words when I was a teenager.
The Fast Talker Who Had Nothing to Say
As a teenager, I spoke at a million miles an hour. I was always so excited or nervous that I would rush through my sentences, tripping over my words. It made everything I said sound less important. It wasn’t until I watched a video of a former president speaking that I understood the power of a deliberate pace. He would pause between sentences, letting his words land with weight and authority. I realized that speaking slowly doesn’t mean you’re slow-witted; it means you’re confident that what you have to say is worth waiting for.
I wish I knew that being a good listener was more charismatic than being a good talker when I was in college.
The Most Popular Guy at the Party
In college, I thought that to be charismatic, I had to be the center of attention—the one with the best stories and the loudest laugh. It was exhausting. I noticed that the most genuinely liked guy in my friend group was a quiet listener. He would ask thoughtful questions and give people his undivided attention. He made everyone feel fascinating. I wish I had known then that charisma isn’t about performing for others; it’s about making others feel seen and heard.
I wish I knew how to give a firm handshake when I was going to my first interviews.
The “Dead Fish” Handshake That Cost Me an Opportunity
I was so nervous for my first big internship interview. When the hiring manager extended his hand, I gave him a weak, limp “dead fish” handshake. I saw a flicker of disappointment on his face before the interview even began. I was qualified, but I didn’t get the offer. While I can’t be sure, I know that my handshake projected a total lack of confidence. It’s often the very first impression you make, and I wish I had practiced that simple, crucial interaction.
I wish I knew to stand up straight instead of slouching to “fit in” when I was younger.
The Tall Kid Who Tried to Shrink
I was the tallest kid in my class, and I hated it. I would constantly slouch, trying to bring myself down to everyone else’s level, to be less conspicuous. I thought it made me seem more relatable and less intimidating. In reality, it just made me look like I was ashamed of myself. I wish I had known to own my height, to stand up straight, and to take up space. Confident posture is inviting, not intimidating.
I wish I knew to smile with my eyes, not just my mouth, when I was learning to be more social.
The Fake Smile That Fooled No One
In my first customer service job, my boss told me to “always smile.” So I walked around all day with a strained, fake smile plastered on my face. It was tiring, and customers seemed to respond with suspicion, not warmth. A trainer explained the concept of a “Duchenne” smile—a genuine smile that engages the muscles around your eyes. The trick was to think of something that actually made me happy before I smiled. The difference was incredible. People responded to that genuine warmth instantly.
I wish I knew to take up space instead of making myself small when I was nervous.
The Meeting Where I Disappeared
In my early meetings as a junior employee, I would physically shrink. I’d sit at the edge of my chair, tuck my elbows in, and hunch my shoulders, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. Unsurprisingly, I felt invisible, and my ideas were often ignored. I wish I had known about “power posing.” Simply sitting up straight, placing my hands on the table, and taking up my fair share of space would have signaled confidence to others and, more importantly, to my own brain.
I wish I knew to stop fidgeting to project more confidence when I was starting out.
The Jittery Energy That Betrayed My Nerves
I was a chronic fidgeter—tapping my foot, clicking my pen, shaking my leg. I thought it was just harmless nervous energy. But during a practice presentation, my manager pointed out that my constant fidgeting made me look incredibly anxious and unsure of what I was saying. It was a visual distraction that completely undermined my words. I learned that stillness projects power. By consciously planting my feet and keeping my hands calm, I appeared far more confident and in control.
I wish I knew my body language was speaking louder than my words when I was 18.
The Contradiction Between What I Said and What I Did
At 18, I tried to act confident. I’d say assertive things, but my body would betray me. I’d say “I can handle it” while simultaneously slouching and avoiding eye contact. My nonverbal cues were screaming “I’m not sure,” completely contradicting my words. People always believe your body over your words. I wish I had known then that if you want people to believe you are confident, you have to align your physical presence with your verbal message. Your posture, eye contact, and gestures are doing most of the talking.