It's Between Me and Me, No One Else

There are a few blog posts I have in the works right now - one about the MS 150 bike ride and one about my recent haircut with Barbara Morin - but I had to say something right now that has been coming up very recently, and I'm glad my lovely friend and plus fashion blogger Cathy Benavides spoke out before I did. Cathy, I'm here to join you.

But first, let me ta...lk some history. (Fooled you, haha!) (What am I, 12?!)

I started this blog with my friend Sarah back in 2008ish as a way for us to keep each other accountable with our weight loss goals. She would blog, then I would blog, and we sort of went back and forth for a while and it evolved into what it is now. [Note: My posts are still active. Hers are not.] Sarah and I went to college together, and we were pretty close for a few years. During our college career, I recall a conversation with someone else where they brought up how women generally feel bad about themselves when they read magazines. During this time, I fluctuated with my feelings of insecurity and extremely low self-esteem on a daily basis. I denied that I was one of those women, but Sarah, my wonderfully bold, fountain of truth friend, said, "Uh, yes. You do that all the time. You always say negative things about yourself every time you flip through those magazines when we go get coffee and you usually hate yourself afterward." This truth hurt a lot, but only in the I-was-totally-in-denial-for-all-these-years kind of way. It really made me think about things.

At the ripe age of 21, I came up with a conclusion: We all hate ourselves because our culture is built on comparison. "We," of course, is a blanket statement, as I am fully aware of men and women who love themselves fully regardless of society and its not-so-subliminal messaging egging us on to constantly pick ourselves apart. I also understand this isn't the only reason why there is this prevalence of self-loathing. It does, however, ring embarrassingly true in the majority of cases. Why else would anyone feel the need to say, "OMG I hate her amazing thighs!" if they weren't comparing her thighs to theirs? We compare ourselves from our bodies to our politics, and millions of things in between, in a way that I don't think is entirely necessary. After this truth slapped me so hard in the mouth, all of the thoughts and words that came forth from that point on were filtered through this thought process: Am I comparing myself to someone else? Why? What does it matter? If I believe all people are beautiful (and good gracious alive, I do!), then why can't I view myself as beautiful? Why does my comparison of myself to them always end up in me being negative and hating myself? Are these negative words of comparison leading to self-hatred going to help someone else or change the world?

After that moment of realization, and a lot of love from my friends, I began to see my body as beautiful for what it is. I still have to remind myself of this almost daily. Granted, I've struggled with this idea again over the past 2 years, but I see myself returning to love again because of this truth that when I strip all the comparisons that we feed ourselves every day on the diet of media and the fashion and health industries (Yes, I'm talking to you, health and fitness people! It's there, too.) - It's just my body. And my body is beautiful no matter what. 

That brings me to what started this: I do not participate in "Who Wore It Better?" games. I would love it if they would simply go away. I'll gladly compliment my friends, saying something like "I'm totally team _______! You look great!" or "Lookin' good, lady!" as my attempts at a tactful response, when they wear something strikingly similar to or exactly the same as celebrities because I know them and I want them to feel beautiful, but do I believe they look better than someone else? No. Sorry guys, but no. You are a beautiful human being. That celebrity is also a human. And he or she is beautiful, too. You both bought the same dress! Great! They made, like, 500 of them! Hooray marketing! Why does looking "better" than a celebrity in the same dress have to be a game we play? And the whole best dressed/worst dressed thing falls into all of this. I hope you read me loud and clear when I say No one deserves body shaming. Ever.

It really upsets me when I read something by anyone in the plus size community engaging in these kinds of diatribe because come on, guys. I'm all for size acceptance and empowering women of larger sizes to embrace their curves or non-curves and love the extra folds of skin we're in! Yes! Do it! But there's a flip side to that. We can play the game of being victimized for being picked on and overlooked and degraded most of our lives for being larger than the societal preconceptions of a beautiful size - and that is a horrible, horrible thing to go through as I am completely with you there and I feel for every single one of you/us - and try to only lift up "our people" with slogans like "Curvy Girls Are Better" and the like -or- we can become empowered, make a change, accept our pasts, and bring everyone up with us, regardless of race, color, religion, gender, shape, or size. That's where the real difference will be made. Let's stop comparing and stop shaming. Let everyone be beautiful no matter who they are or what they wear.

[Note: As I type this, I realize that one of my favorite songs EVER, "All About That Bass" by Meghan Trainor, even has a lot of work to do. She tries to make up for it, though: "I'm bringing booty back/Go ahead and tell them skinny bitches that/No, I'm just playing/I know you think you're fat/But I'm here to tell ya/Every inch of you is perfect from the bottom to the top" She's still got a little way to go, in my opinion, but I think she's heading there.]

Run

I feel the need to
Run.

Run,
Not in the way of
Feet meeting pavement,
But running
With my heart
Towards a purpose,
Towards a higher space of living.
Running towards God.

Running
Towards my dreams and passions.
Just
Run,
One proverbial foot in front of the other
In quick succession of
Progress.
Blood pumping
Through my veins,
Creating wind
And force
And energy
Behind me.

Where my destination is
I have only a vague idea,
But
I just
Gotta
Run.

Letting Go, Clearing Out, and Moving On

Last year, I had a multi-family yard sale with my friends where I let go of a lot of items I had assigned emotional attachments to, and I realized there was something else I needed to let go of: The Box. "What box?" you may be asking. The Box of my past. You see, I've kept The Box in my closet for most of my life. In there, I would put letters and little notes and ticket stubs and random memorabilia to remain forever in the black hole of memories known as The Box. 10 months after the yard sale, I finally got up the courage/emotional exhaustion to begin the process.

I read every letter, crying on the floor of my bedroom. Most of them were wonderful memories, but some of them were not. I realized where my notion of not feeling good enough for someone to date me came from, along with my need for people pleasing to stop someone from bullying me, amongst many other agreements I made about myself and the world. In middle school, even before my diagnosis, I just wanted to be normal, and I wrote that in a letter I didn't send yet kept in The Box. I wanted to be someone else from such a young age because I was already tired of not fitting in, not being accepted, and not loving myself because some boy (every boy) or some "friends" couldn't love me for who I was.

I wanted wine. I wanted sweets. I wanted my mom. I wanted to cry for days. But I did not indulge. Instead, I processed what the hurtful notes meant, how they shaped who I am today, and what I needed to let go. Then, I gladly/angrily/tearfully/whatever-emotion-I-allowed-myself-to-feel-in-the-moment-ly threw them away. I kept the beautiful notes of love, encouragement, and goodness to happily remain in The (now) GOOD Box, and remembered all of the beautiful people who blessed my life with their words that touched me so deeply, then and now. All of them are now teachers to me; teachers of strength, humility, and sense of self, along with teachers of love, support, guidance, and faith. I even made peace with death, particularly the death of one of my best friends, through these letters.

It seemed as if I started to breathe again, but there were still some things I was wrestling with emotionally that I didn't know how to deal with. I prayed a lot, and it seemed to help quite a bit. I'd kicked the sugar habit again, so that wasn't the problem. I was more motivated than I had been in a long time to work and get my resume up to date. My friends and I had the best relationships we've ever had. However, why was I constantly feeling lethargic and unattractive? Why was I constantly asking my boyfriend for affirmation (rather, reaffirmation upon reaffirmation) or needing attention? Why did I still feel unsafe in my own body? Why couldn't I feel love from others, but mostly, from myself?

Open the garage door to my studio, essentially, my life. It was complete chaos - dirty, dirty chaos.  What was supposed to be a place of creativity, business, and productivity was just a huge mess! [Read: Complete and utter disaster.] No wonder I took a sabbatical. I couldn't get any freakin' work done in a place so unorganized, so disheveled, so full of useless, neglected things from wall to wall, floor to ceiling in some places. It was just like The Box, taking up physical, emotional, and spiritual space, and I couldn't put it off any longer. It had to be done, and I was the only one who could do it.

The first day, it took me 6 hours to get everything out of the garage and into my driveway. People thought I was having a yard sale so they actually bought a bunch of things. (If you put it out there, they will come. Noted.) The first day was a total of 14 hours of moving, sorting, sweeping, cleaning, and throwing away, but mostly, it was emotionally draining yet also somehow uplifting.

At one point, a huge revelation hit me right in the feels: I hoarded these crafts and crafty-like things my whole life because those were my only friends for so long. That truth lingered in my stomach before spilling out of my eyes, and soon, I was in a sweaty, gross puddle in the middle of my garage, looking out onto the piles of what I had decided was my life. My art and creativity is pretty much everything to me in my physical and emotional worlds, and this driveway of clutter represented years of clinging to that part of myself, developing it to the respected level it is now. It also represented the years I was isolated, being the weird girl who sat by herself at the lunch table in high school and couldn't wait to get in the art or music room to let it out - alone, again, for the most part. No wonder I do things on my own and rarely ask for help, perpetuating the cycle I've found myself in for most of my life. I retreat into my little lair of possibility, surrounded by my mountains of 'friends' I've collected in the form of crafts, sewing materials, paints, and random objects to be used for something great and awe-inspiring, I assure you, yet craving intimacy and closeness at the same time.

During this process, I uncovered so many great things I seemed to have forgotten about myself as they were hidden underneath a frustrating blanket of "UGH! WHY IS THIS HERE?!" I remembered things such as the fact that I started a really cool business in high school (and actually made money at it!) painting bar stools and other cool things, the fact that I am SUPER resourceful, incredibly observant, and a very quick and thorough learner, and the fact that I'm really great at what I do - all of it! Oh, and I'm really fun! And funny, obviously. [You better laugh at that.] Doing this manual labor for myself helped me feel better in my body for the first time in months, and I looked at my sweaty, dusty naked self that night in the mirror after that first day was over and actually liked what I saw for the first time in a long, long time. [Cue: Tears. Lots of tears.]

I made a choice that day to start over in a way. I cleared out about 50% of my things, which is more than I'd expected to rid myself of over the course of a week. I held a yard sale where some of my real life friends - also crafty people! yay!!! - and lots of lovely strangers came by to give these things a new life. I made rent with that yard sale. (Thanks, old friends, for your value!)

My space is incredible and light and full of room to explore and create and get excited! (My boyfriend even wants to set up his studio in there, which would have been impossible before.) I'm proud to now have a space that I feel represents me and my lightness of heart, fullness of joy, and excess of possibility that has gratefully returned. I'm hosting a Studio Cooling (not warming because we are in Texas and it's almost July) Party soon to celebrate the transition, and I couldn't be more thrilled for this new chapter and fresh start. Emotional health is the most important, in my opinion, and this cleanse is exactly what I needed for an optimal healthy life journey.

The Pains of Being Pure at Stomach (Not a band, but a reality)

A look of shock came over his face when I explained why I couldn't eat the green beans he lovingly prepared for the buffet.
"You're allergic to pork?!" he exclaims in disbelief. "I have never heard of that!" What I said registers in his brain. "That means you can't have --"
"I know! Bacon. I can't have bacon. It's a travesty. I'm well aware." I cut him off. I know what he's going to say next.
"Or --"
"Sausage. Ham. Pork chops. Pork rinds. Refried beans. Anything cooked in lard. Anything at the restaurant Bacon."
"I would rather die than be allergic to pork."
"I'm actually really happy. Thanks!"

Imagine this same conversation all. the freaking. time.

A few months ago, I gave up sugar completely because I have an addiction. [Insert previous conversation here, substituting sugar and various confections.] When I consume sugar, it feeds a chronic medical condition I was diagnosed with at 13, and it also makes me feel suicidal if I over consume. Since I've been sugar-free for a few months, my thoughts are the clearest they've been in a long time, and I no longer consider suicide as an option when I emotionally reach dark places. In fact, I hit rock bottom right after I went off sugar, and I believe fighting through my addiction AND the pain of everything crumbling around me was a huge part of what helped me survive the most difficult time of my life. During that time, I was very conscious of my thought processes, and I said to myself, "Wait a minute. I don't want to take my life right now... HOLY CRAP!!!! THAT IS AWESOME!" Clarity, prayer, good friends and family, and a few extra counseling sessions were what I relied on during that time, but the sugar was long gone, and I am proud to say I slayed the shit out of that dragon. 

Now, I've moved on to a new journey as my birthday challenge. I'm adopting a plant-based diet, at least for the next 90 days. I do foresee it becoming my lifestyle. I wanted to challenge myself to commit for 3 months to the full extent. I may add fish and lean, "ethical" meats back into my diet at a later date. I have tried many times to successfully adopt this way of eating, but I failed for a number of reasons. The main one is really silly but it is true: I get tired of upsetting/inconveniencing people by the way that I eat. 

Being meat-free can be painstakingly isolating at times. Yes, I'm aware that I make my own choices and that choosing not to do something because of what someone else thinks is a people-pleasing, co-dependent mentality. And honestly, I get really tired of having to explain myself. People get soooo argumentative over food! It's difficult to eat clean even when you're consuming meat, so that is magnified when one tries to eat clean AND cut the meat out altogether. Texas, much like Georgia, is the land of barbecue and pork and all things animal-derived, it seems. While most people are cool with whatever you want to put in your body, there are still people who shun the idea of someone not consuming meat, and a few of them are very close to home. For example, one of my best friends would never date a vegetarian. (Enjoy dating in Austin, friend!) One of my other best friends almost vomits at the thought of something edible not having an ingredient with an animal-derived product in it. ("Vegan cupcake?!" *throws it at the wall*) One time, I told one of my uncles about a restaurant that served very convincing meat-looking soy protein. "If I didn't know, I wouldn't have thought it was fake!" I said. His response was, "I wouldn't have thought it was food!" Cool. Thanks for your support. (Sarcasm.)

Not everyone is like that, of course. (Shout out to my Aunt Kathie for being the first food-weirdo in my family! I love your little vegetarian self for taking one for the team!) I actually do have a ton of support from most of my family and friends because we've all been on some sort of off-beat eating plan. Collectively, we've tried Weight Watchers, Atkins, Sugar Busters, South Beach (I actually support this diet for the most part.), Suzanne Somers, Susan Powter, HCG shots (Not a fan. Needles scare me.), Mayo Clinic Diet, Slim Fast (Throwback, y'all!), shakes, juice (I win this category all on my own!), meat-only for 2 weeks then veggies-only for 2, rinse and repeat... You name it, my family (Myself alone!) has tried it, and we support each other the best we can, even if we disagree. [Read: HCG was scary to pretty much all of us except for those doing it, obviously.] 

My parents were actually inspired by the film "Forks Over Knives" to adopt a plant-based diet as well, and they did GREAT! It lasted for about 6 months, and my hat is totally off to them. My dad was super committed and bought plant-based nutrition books for all of his friends who had medical conditions, explaining to them what he had learned, and enabling them to take their health into their own hands and turn off cancer genes. I highly doubt any of them read those books, but I am so proud of his enthusiasm and his willingness to lead his friends to healing. My mom was reluctant at first, but even she started to actually get excited about eating vegetables and how she felt on the new eating plan. I think they ran into the same issues that I've experienced, but worse for them is that they don't live in Austin where nutrient-rich foods are widespread and easily available, and I would be surprised if the restaurants they went to in South Georgia would let them in their establishments if they uttered the word "vegan." There is no community where they live, that they know of, and it just got hard for them. Their commitment, although brief, inspired me to keep going. When I told them that I was going to strictly adhere to a vegan diet diet for the next 90 days, I was encouraged, and I'm sticking with that.

I do not like complaining, and that isn't what I'm trying to do here. Maybe this will bring to light some of the issues we herbivores face. (This post doesn't even touch on cruelty-free reasons for going vegan. I commend those who are outward about their views. I support you!) What I guess it all comes down to is this: I'm not asking anyone to change their ways. I may make educated suggestions if someone is constantly complaining about something and seem to be asking for advice. That's what I would do with any situation, really. I may share how this new way of eating has been beneficial for me. However, I'm not holding a gun to anyone's head, saying, "You better only eat plants or your grandma gets it!" It's called having a conversation, and for whatever reason, it really offends people when I talk about what I eat. 

So, I decided to not give a shit anymore about what others think. That should have been my attitude from the get-go, however, one of my top needs has been acceptance since I can remember, and that is a really difficult attitude to have when you've been a people-pleaser your whole life. Thankfully, I'm on this new plane of self-acceptance. It feels good to a) accept myself fully from the inside out, b) get creative with my new lifestyle and food choices because I love to cook and make beautiful food, and c) eat nutrient-dense, healing foods that make me feel like a shiny unicorn floating on a double rainbow with cotton candy colored clouds! Some people see vegetarians/pescetarians/vegans/non-meat consumers as weak, and those people can suck it. 

I choose to be plant-strong. I choose to eat for my highest self. I choose to heal my body - for good.

A Year of Growth

It's been a year since I shaved my head, and oooooh, what a year it has been! It's truly amazing to take a look back at a journey of 365ish days and be grateful for where you are, what you've experienced, and who you've become in just one year. This year, I really pushed the Play button on my life.


I grew up a lot. I mean, really a lot. I learned how to organize and clean my house on a consistent basis. [Read: Huge accomplishment.] I learned how to be mindful of how my actions affect others, including my hoarding tendencies. I purged my belongings, twice. I have experienced 4 different roommates coming and going, along with a few animals, and a transition from a studio space to working in my garage. I hated my home when I first moved here; now, I've really come to love it. I learned to love sweating. I learned to love drinking water! I took a step back from my business. I accomplished several fitness goals. I learned how to deal with death in a healthy way. I started a band and began writing music again for the first time in years. I made friends. (You know, like usual. "Hey, cool hair! Errr, well, you know what I mean.") I confused people. (Again, like usual. "Do you have cancer?" "Are you dying?" "What's wrong? Should I be scared that you don't have hair all of a sudden?!") I became more vulnerable. I cried more than ever. I started paying my own bills with the money I made as opposed to my parents helping me out with everything. I wrote and I sang and I danced and I fell in love and I fell out of love and I got hurt and I forgave and, most of all, I learned to love it all. I fought a lot of things as I grew up in the past, but somehow over this year, I learned how to accept more things with grace... and maybe a tiny fight. As soon as I equated "success" with "change," that made all the difference. This idea was present with my nonexistent to slowly growing follicles. Everything became a little easier because I knew my purpose here was to grow with my hair, and I believe that I did just that.


When I shaved my head, I had no idea what would really happen to me on the inside. I knew I wanted to "see myself for the first time," which I did. I really did, too. I saw my imperfections. I saw my vanity. I saw my weaknesses. I saw all of my hiding places. I also saw my strength. I saw my purpose. I saw my place in the world as a child of God. I even saw God, somehow, in myself, somewhere. I saw how far I still need to go and accepted it and committed to it.

This journey has been beautiful and painful and joyful and honest and ugly and scary and exciting and very, very, VERY real. The point of it all was for me to know myself and love myself completely, and I've become more of the person I have always wanted to be, uncovering a tiny part of who I am to see the whole of myself, this She of God - the Ultimate Source of Light, of Love. I opened my crown to receive the gifts of Life that my Creator has bestowed upon me, to foster them, to share them. There is still quite a journey ahead of me. This is still very close to the starting place. I'm grateful for the opening of my eyes and heart through the removal of tired, abused, thirsty, brittle, pretty-on-the-outside tresses, making way for the Love, Light, health, beauty, abundance, energy, and strength that now inhabits that nurtured space on my scalp as well as inside my revitalized, re-energized, love-pumping heart. I knew I was changing my life, I just didn't know how it was going to play out. I trusted that this was something I needed to do, so I answered that calling and here I am! Happier [Cue the waterworks!], more resilient, and full of joy - my joy. 




What's next for me? I'm writing a book about my sugar addiction, I've recently become a Zumba instructor, I'm planning my bike tour, and soon, I will become a weight loss and nutrition coach. I am really looking forward to embracing this new lifestyle of learning and teaching others to find and embrace their own health journeys, and most importantly, to reconcile themselves with their bodies and their lives. I've personally seen how it can change your life (Duh! This blog talks about all of it, obvi!!!), and I am excited to encourage others!


Woooo! Serious post! Definitely worth it. Thanks for reading, and I like you. :)