SEVEN LIFE SURVIVAL LESSONS FROM “SURVIVAL OF THE THICKEST” I'M TAKING INTO 2026

I started watching Survival of the Thickest the way most of us start comfort television: a little tired, a little fried, and looking for something that promised jokes, cute clothes, and low emotional commitment. What I did not expect was to feel quietly clocked by a Netflix comedy while folding laundry.

If you're not familiar with the show or still have it in your queue, here's a breakdown: Michelle Buteau plays Mavis, an almost-40 styling assistant eager to make big moves in her career. Her success is intertwined with her famous photographer boyfriend, Jaque (played by Taylor Sele). When she comes home from work and finds him in bed with a model, she collides head-first with the daunting reality of starting over, for the sake of her own dignity and self-respect. This determination is nevertheless complicated by the fact that she's still deeply in love with this man.

The first season confronts all the aspects of ending a long-term relationship, not just the loss of a partner. Mavis goes through phases of feeling freed, but also adrift. It also examines how the sudden end of her relationship affects her entire mindset.

Episode 1 presents Mavis at a crossroads: post-breakup, professionally rattled, and trying to remember who she was before everything felt so heavy. Yet, despite the explosive reveal, she doesn't feel like her life has exploded, exactly. It’s worse than that. Her life has simply… stalled. The relationship she thought she was building her future around has collapsed. And the version of herself she thought she was no longer fits. She’s not ruined—just suddenly unmoored.

There’s a specific kind of realization that hits in your thirties where you look around and think: Oh. So this is the part where I’m supposed to know what I’m doing. Survival of the Thickest understands that moment intimately and asks the question so many of us are quietly negotiating: If the plan falls apart, what’s left? And what do you do with that?

The show definitely caught me at a very specific moment in my own life: not in crisis, but not yet settled either (and feeling like I should be). Nothing is actively on fire, yet everything feels… provisional. I'm technically fine, but also quietly renegotiating expectations—of love, of work, and of what joy really looks like for myself...usually at very inconvenient hours. And somewhere between the friendships and the very intentional fashion choices, through the show, I started seeing answers.

So, as we start another new year, one where I'm trying (again) to be more intentional about what I carry forward, here are seven life survival lessons from Survival of the Thickest I’m taking with me.

Lesson 1.

Rock Bottom Is a Creative Reset.

No one likes to admit this, but sometimes humiliation is actually clarifying. Mavis loses the relationship and the stability she thought came with it, which forces her to ask a question many of us avoid until absolutely necessary: What do I actually want when no one is watching?

There’s something freeing about having nothing left to protect. When the image cracks, you can finally rearrange things without worrying about keeping up appearances. It’s not romantic. It’s just honest. And honesty, inconvenient as it is, tends to be productive.

Lesson 2.

Your Friends Are the Real Safety Net.

Romantic partners come and go. Girl gangs endure.

What Survival of the Thickest understands deeply is that friends are infrastructure. They hold you up when you’re spiraling, tell you the truth when you’re lying to yourself, and remind you who you were before you started shrinking to fit someone else’s expectations.

Good friends boost you up when your confidence wobbles. They don’t need to fix you or save you—but they do keep you tethered to yourself. And being a good friend is just as healing as having good friends.

Mavis survives (and thrives) because she has people who show up, talk sense, and sometimes let her be ridiculous without judgment. And it's not a bonus. It's the point.

Lesson 3.

Confidence Isn’t Linear (Unfortunately).

The most comforting lie we tell ourselves is that once we “heal,” we stay healed.

Mavis doesn’t follow that arc. Her confidence comes and goes. She doubles back. She says the wrong thing, texts the wrong person, second-guesses decisions she already made peace with two episodes ago. And yet—crucially—none of this cancels out her growth.

The show understands that confidence isn’t a permanent state; It’s a practice. You don’t arrive and stay there. You visit. Sometimes briefly. Sometimes overdressed. Sometimes with a hangover. But each time you come back a little quicker.

Progress still counts even when it’s inconsistent. Especially then.

Lesson 4.

Fashion Is Armor.

Looking good when your life is in shambles isn’t shallow. It’s tactical.

What the show nails is how fashion operates as a form of self-preservation. Its fashion isn’t about fantasy or escape. It’s about presence. Clothes become a way of taking up space on days when confidence feels theoretical. When life is uncertain, getting dressed with intention is one thing you can control. It’s a way of announcing, I’m still here. I still get to be seen.

I spoke about this more extensively in my review of Michelle Obama's The Look, but here's the tea; Sometimes confidence starts externally and works its way inward. Anyone who’s ever put on a great outfit during a terrible week understands this.

And while feeling put together (or even a little extra) won't fix your problems, it might make facing them a little easier.

Lesson 5.

Boundaries Are the Real Glow-Up.

Boundaries in your thirties (or at any age) are non-negotiable.

At a certain point, a glow-up stops being about what you add and starts being about what you remove. Extra explanations. Emotional labor for people who haven’t earned it. The instinct to smooth things over just to keep the peace.

What Survival of the Thickest gets right is that boundaries don’t make Mavis harder, they make her clearer. She learns when to disengage, when to leave early, when to stop negotiating her needs. The shift is subtle but visible: fewer justifications equals fewer spirals.

Trust, this kind of boundary-setting doesn’t feel glamorous in the moment. It feels awkward. It might even make you feel harsh. But it creates space—for better work, better relationships, and a better version of yourself that isn’t constantly overextended.

Lesson 6.

Starting Over Doesn’t Mean Starting Small.

There’s an unspoken rule that when you’re rebuilding, you should be modest about your desires. Scale them down. Be grateful for whatever scraps of stability you can get. Mavis doesn’t buy into that.

One of the smartest things the series does is reject the idea that rebuilding requires humility. Mavis doesn’t downsize her dreams just because she’s restarting. She recalibrates, yes, but she doesn’t apologize for wanting more.

Starting over doesn’t mean forfeiting your appetite. It just means choosing what you’re hungry for more carefully. And there’s just something so radical about refusing to make yourself smaller simply because you’re between chapters.

Lesson 7.

True Joy Is a Discipline.

Joy, the show suggests, is not something you wait for once everything is resolved. It’s something you practice while things are still unresolved.

Mavis laughs, flirts, dances, and dreams before she has all the answers. That choice matters. Because waiting until everything is fixed to feel good is a great way to never feel good at all. The show quietly insists that joy isn’t denial—it’s maintenance. It's a way of reminding yourself that life is still happening, even when you don’t have a clean narrative for it.

Joy, it turns out, is less about permission and more about commitment. It isn’t a reward for good behavior. It’s a muscle you use so life doesn’t flatten you completely.

What Survival of the Thickest understands is that survival doesn’t always look heroic. Sometimes it looks like decisions others don't agree with, leaning on your friends, and choosing joy before your life feels “settled” enough to deserve it.

There’s no grand transformation. Just the quiet work of continuing on—with humor, with boundaries, with a little more faith in yourself than you had last season.