So, I'm working through the writing prompts from The F*ck It Diet and it's weird to discover just how turbulent my relationship with food has been for the last 38 years. Right now, I'm supposed to be analyzing my relationship to hunger. What do I think, fear, wish, and judge about hunger? What do I believe about it and how do I try to manipulate it? Finding the answers takes me back to grade school.
I'm a big person. I've always been a big person and it was more glaringly obvious when I was young and the kids around me were much smaller. I remember going to Disney World when I was 6 and riding my first roller coaster because I met the you must be this tall to ride line. I just shot up like a bean sprout and didn't stop until 9th grade then it just leveled out. My doctors speculated that I would be over 6 feet tall but I stopped at 5'9 and it's hard enough finding pants as it is. I also hit a size 10 shoe somewhere before the end of grade school and a size 11 by high school. I understand that there are many people who are taller and have bigger feet than I do, but pain is relative, and today, I'm reflecting on mine.
My mom is tall too, but as I've said before, not built like me. I've got broad shoulders and a masculine stance. No one has ever accused me of being dainty. I think I wanted to be dainty when I was young. And, as my body grew, so did my realization that I was not standard size. To be honest, my height never bothered me, it was my frame. I thought that maybe if I were thin, my size would be more acceptable. So what do I judge and fear about hunger? That it is weakness, a mountain to be conquered. To this day, I fight the subconscious habit of looking at the smaller people around me to see if they are hungry. I used to work with people who would drink coffee for breakfast and have an apple for lunch and just the thought of that makes me want to gnaw off my own foot. It makes me angry.
How? How do they drink coffee and eat an apple in an 8 hour work day and not want to go on a hangry rampage? Is there something intrinsically wrong with me that I can't, that I need more? I had terribly disordered eating in middle and high school. I skipped meals, tracked every ounce I gained or lost, felt a dark sense of satisfaction when the hunger pains kept me awake at night. Hunger was an obsession, an experiment, a never ending battle that I couldn't seem to win. As an adult, I have gone back and forth so many times there's no point in trying to count.
So, yeah, I clearly have an unhealthy and confrontational relationship with hunger. The good news is that I'm learning to see it as a biological function - the gas gauge in my human machine. Being hungry means that my body needs food. I don't have to fight it, or question it, or analyze it, I just eat. And some days, that is more of a struggle than it should be, but I'm learning. I'm growing. And one baby step at a time, I'm healing.
For as long as I can remember I have pushed myself to the breaking point and beyond. Lately, I've been asking myself why. I've got fibromyalgia, one kidney, hypoglycemia, and have had a total hysterectomy within the last year (and this doesn't even account for all the other surgeries and medical drama). Despite all this, I've never really let myself rest, lie down, and just be. And again, the nagging question is why?
I have recently realized that the answer is fear. If I rest, doesn't that make me weak? And if I'm weak doesn't that essentially make me a garbage person? Wow. That's some pretty intense negativity and a whole lot of limiting beliefs shaken up in a soda bottle that is bound to explode if I don't release the pressure soon. So, here I am processing all that. Today I went to the gym for the first time in over a month for a personal training session, and you know what I did? Hung out in the therapy pool. The water was warm and oh so comforting and I just moved - joyfully I might add. I was a beautiful Manadee serene in her element which leads me to the second thing I did at the gym today - canceled my membership.
Turns out I can get a punch pass that lasts for 6 months and can come and go as I please without having to shell out $73 a month for a membership I rarely use. It was surprisingly very emotional for me and I had to process those feelings too. Why am I feeling this so intensely? Because for the last six years or so, my worth as a human being has been intrinsically tied to the gym. I was always trying so hard to work up to going this many days a week, or this many sessions a week because eventually, I would go five days a week and prove to the universe that I was strong, and worthy. Turns out, a gym pass can't give me that validation.
I am learning to accept the fact that I'll never be a marathon runner or a professional weight lifter or that girl at the gym who does all the pull ups and that's really ok. Because guess what? I'm not really into running, or lifting weights, or pull ups for that matter. It doesn't bring me joy. So, from now on, I'm just going to text my trainer when I feel up to taking a swim, or rock out to my tunes, or maybe even do some yoga. I'm going to stop telling my body how it should live up to some crazy expectation and just let it tell me what it needs and do what makes me happy. Yeah, happy sounds good for a change.
I can't count the number of times I've seen a meme or heard someone say, "Be your best self". But what exactly does that mean? The answer is obviously unique to the individual and deeply personal. And, I think it requires a little imagination. It's the best version of yourself, so you can't really base it off of what you see in others. It's perfectly fine to be motivated by someone or inspired by someone, but you shouldn't aspire to have someone else's version of best. This gets me thinking, what is my best self? What do I imagine the very best version of my life to look like?
First, I have to get out of the trap of over thinking. I instead focus on an emotion, happiness. What am I doing when I'm happiest? What inspires me about the people I follow on Instagram? What about their photos inspires happiness? Recently I've been thinking a lot about this and I know it has to do with weight, not physical pounds, but limiting beliefs. The things I've absorbed and the conclusions I've drawn that lead to beliefs that weigh me down. Great example, fat people can't be fashionable. Through culture, family, media and sometimes even friends, I have internalized this limiting belief that being heavy and being beautiful are mutually exclusive. But here's the thing, they are absolutely NOT.
So if I start chipping away at these limiting beliefs, start digging through the layers kind of like a sculptor with a chisel, what lies in the marble? What does the finished product look like? Who is my best self? It all starts with a manatee. Short version to refresh, I see the manatee as my spirit animal - eats and sleeps for most of the day, gentle, aquatic, and gets run over by lots of boats (metaphorically my twin). My manatee tattoo, known by friends as Manadee, has a permanent phrase emblazoned above her, "Oh yes I can". This is my daily reminder to be brave, so this manatee is definitely the alter ego for my happiest self, my best self. So what parts do I keep and what parts do I leave behind in order to really become the Manadee?
First and foremost, my best self loves experimenting with fashion. I've already got hot pink boots and nose ring, so those are definitely elements of my best self, but I think Manadee keeps exploring. I want to fearlessly try new outfits without a care in the world about my rolls or lumps or imperfections. I want a wardrobe that makes me really happy, not just one that comfortably hides all my imperfections. Which leads me to the second thing. My best self does not give two farts about weight or scars or any of the other frivolous imperfections that I've been secretly obsessing about for years. She loves her body and accepts it exactly as it is in the moment.
My best self doesn't over analyze. The days I get an idea and go for it, that is 100% Manadee. Instead of spending a gazillion hours on Pinterest looking for the perfect craft project, I just pick one and start or better yet grab some clay and mold and do it for the sheer joy of the experience without caring if it comes out perfect or if anyone is impressed. I do not spend enough time just being in the moment. I seriously have at least five coloring books and a plethora of colored pencils, but haven't colored in over a year - not because I don't love it, but because I overthink it. My best self just goes for it. The self scrutiny is definitely something I need to leave behind. I want to create for creations sake and who cares if it's a masterpiece?
My best self also dances, and sings, very loudly and sometimes awkwardly. I was never on the drill team. I don't know any moves, I'm not smooth. So what? It brings me joy to the very tips of my toes. I should definitely do this more.
Lastly, my best self indulges. Manadee doesn't stop to consider whether those press on nails should be saved for a special occasion. She doesn't ration the bath bombs and paints her toenails, and when she can afford it, goes to the spa because she can. I feel happiest when I give myself a break and just enjoy my indulgences. I don't ask myself if I've earned it or if I deserve it; I just intrinsically know that I have and I do.
Going forward, these are the things I'm keeping, the best self I'm chipping out of the marble. The me who lives in the moment and loves her body and does the things that make her happy without needing a specific reason. My best self is my happiest self, and I can feel myself smile just thinking about it.
I have spent the better part of the last 18 years trying to figure out where I belong. I very distinctly remember my senior year of high school because it was that year I felt most comfortable in my own skin. Graduation came on the verge of so much optimism and possibility - the world was my oyster. For nine years, I fought countless obstacles to finish college and become a teacher, the role I thought would define me and keep me until I retired, but after eight years teaching, the fire had waned. Since I quit, I've been running in circles trying to find that same sense of purpose again and today, an epiphany hit me like a freight train barreling down the track.
It can't be explained in one sentence or one emotion, but the vision that keeps dancing through my head in 19 year old me. The girl who was wild and full of possibility. There is absolutely nothing wrong with being "normal" - settling down and being the traditional version of grown up, if that is your flavor. Turns out, I've been so miserable because that is not my flavor. I've consistently chosen jobs that put people in boxes, jobs that require khaki pants and button down shirts, and today I realized that just isn't me.
I have lots of tattoos and I've had them for many years now, but they are all where I can professionally cover them up. Again, there is nothing wrong with this. It is practical and sensible, but there has always been a part of me who looks at the girls with pink hair and piercings and it nudges something inside me - something long dormant and sleeping. For my 38th birthday, which is tomorrow, I got a brand new tattoo and it speaks to my bravery and rebelliousness - the firey passion on my inside. While I was getting said tattoo, they informed me that I could get $10 off of a piercing that same day. My friend, who has her nose pierced, suggested that I get my nose pierced too. I was terrified - utterly convinced that this would be the most painful thing that ever happened to me, but I braved up, made my friend hold my hand, and did it. BOOM! The door blew off the back of my brain.
I was 19 again and the world was full of possibility. If I could do this, I could do anything. I could be anything. I love the job I'm at now, really love it because they really appreciate me, and they didn't even notice that I got my nose pierced. I don't regret a single day of being a teacher; I learned so much, but now I'm ready to be me. And I'm asking myself all sorts of important questions like why did I stop writing and drawing? Why did I give up on wearing impractical shoes and dancing like a maniac in the kitchen to Bob Seger? Why did I stop having tea parties for the hell of it?
My husband is one of the most supportive and understanding people in the universe, I can't blame him. I think I just wrapped myself up in what I thought life should look like instead of really, really living it. I go on amazing vacations, I hang out with amazing friends - why do I wait for the few times a year that this should happen. Maybe I'm having my midlife crisis early, or maybe I've finally found it - that rainbow connection between the lovers, the dreamers, and me. Whatever it is, I'm on fire and nothing can stop me now.
Completely by chance, I stumbled onto a book the other day and it is absolutely changing my life. It is challenging deeply held beliefs that I've had for a lifetime, and asking me to dig deep and really evaluate what I want from my life. The F*uck It Diet: Eating Should Be Easy by Caroline Dooner is absolutely the most controversial and riveting thing I've had my hands on in a long, long time. I'm about 3/4 of the way through it and my brain is still exploded all over the inside of my head.
The author is not a doctor or a therapist, but her book is absolutely not a diet and absolutely is therapy. It's like Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, Acceptance and Commitment Therapy, and a little unicorn poop all smashed into a digital file (or book cover depending on what you a reading). She poses that the reason that we struggle with weight and diet is because we are always on diets and also focused on weight. What if weight didn't matter? What if you could love yourself right now, regardless of whether you ever lose the weight or not?
Wait, what? Love myself, like really, love myself right now? But I'm fat, really, truly, fat and I'm not allowed to love myself until I'm healthy and skinny and beautiful. Seriously, if I love myself right now, as I am, then I'm accepting being fat which is unhealthy and I will eat myself off the edge of a cliff and be fat forever and that's, well, that's just TERRIBLE. Right? Now that I type it, that sounds just as silly as it did the first time I really processed those words. If you are a person that believes fat people don't deserve to love themselves, then you can stop reading, the remainder of this post is not for you, thanks for tuning in.
Before I go any further, I want to do my best to summarize what I've gotten from the book so far: 1. I am absolutely allowed to love myself no matter what I weigh or what I think I should weigh, and unconditionally. 2. Diets are the REASON I have a f*@cked up relationship with food. 3. In order to heal, I need to eat ALOT, rest when I need it, accept myself as I am, feel my feelings, process my feelings, and deal with my emotional baggage.
The book starts off with bucket tons of science and sources to back up the crazy things she's asking you to believe, which really aren't all that crazy once I started to think about it. Then Part Two of the book breaks down the "diet" into it's four essential parts: the physical part, the emotional part, the mental part, and the thriving part. In a nut shell, she's telling me to stop dieting and start working through my issues with food, and weight, and emotions (brain explosion).
I have cried, like actual tears, reading this book. I have quit Weight Watchers, and taken down both the Sticker Revolution, and the Impossible Pants section of my blog. Why? Because I realized that they are no longer serving me. For me, those pants represent a very real and raw spiritual wound that I've had for as long as I can remember. My parents loved me, and they absolutely wanted what was best for me so I get the motivation behind some of the things they did, but I'm really stopping to think about my relationship with food now, processing my experiences, and I realized that I have had a terrible, and restrictive history with both food and my body.
In my house, the only thing that mattered was weight. My parents are good people and they wanted us to be healthy, but truly, absolutely everything in my house was about weight. My mom constantly talked about how fat she was. She had a big butt, or a big gut, or arm flab. Perspective - she was 5'9 and weighed 150 pounds tops. My step-dad always thought that I should weigh 150 too, and he always talked about how fat he was or made little comments about how I should lose weight to. My grandma CONSTANTLY obsessed about calories. She freaked out about butter and practically ate Sweet and Low with a spoon. Even when I was thin, some misguided soul in my family, called me thunder thighs in front of my cousins.
I overheard my biological father telling family members at a Thanksgiving Dinner, when I was getting a second plate in the buffet line, that I was turning into a real porker. I was like 11 years old and already 5'6 with size 10 feet! These were NOT things I had control over. He told me that if I didn't watch out I was going to be fat just like my *insert heavy relative here*. He once called me a little piggy and told me to oink for him because I wanted cinnamon rolls AND cereal.
I didn't realize it until very recently, when I started really evaluating all of my emotions and feelings around food, but there are some very real rules/beliefs that I have internalized about food and weight.
1. Fat people don't deserve nice things. Pretty clothes and makeup are for skinny people.
2. Emotions are a sign of weakness. Crying is never acceptable because it means you are weak.
3. Being tired or needing to rest is a sign of weakness. Push past pain, push past tired, push till you break, because anything less than that - is weak.
4. Indulging is only for skinny people. If you indulge when you are fat it is a sign of gluttony and weakness.
5. Other people won't love you if you a fat, they will only tolerate you because you are disgusting. You must constantly prove that you are trying NOT to be fat in order to be loved.
6. Food is the enemy.
I realized like a giant slap to the face that I have been terribly judgmental. I have seen heavy people at the pool in 2 piece bathing suits, and seen them in magazine adds, and in my Facebook feed, and before 2 days ago, I judged them by every internal rule and belief I had. I couldn't accept them, because accepting them meant accepting myself. It meant not looking at them through the glaring lense of my misguided internal belief system. I don't know a damn thing about those people. I have no idea what they hope or dream or fear. I don't know their struggles or their journey, I just judge them BECAUSE they are fat and I'm done. I'm so over it. This isn't a light switch I can flip off and on, this is years and years and years of baggage that I have to sort through and process, and heal.
I told all this to my friend, a therapist, the other day and you know what she said? "Welcome to the body positive movement." I finally get what that means, and now, it's time to really begin the healing.
My Fitbit battery died and I can't find my charger. I feel naked, but I haven't been syncing it for a while now. On the one hand I love seeing my steps every day and on the other hand I get so frustrated that my step count is so low. I am too young to feel this old! I know some of it is my weight and lifestyle choices and the other part is my medical issues. I keep imagining the day that I wake up and nothing hurts. Right now, I've been down with an intestinal virus for the last few days and that has been so much fun (can you sense my sarcasm?).
Over the weekend, we went to Clinton State Park to watch my husband's crazy friend run a 100 mile marathon. I still can't even believe it. A hundred miles without stopping through rain, rocky trails, steep climbs, and at certain points, total darkness except for a head lamp. My husband paced him for about 10 miles on the last leg of the run and came back covered in mud and scrapes, soaking wet. His white socks were black. I haven't the faintest idea how you convince your body to push through those kind of extremes. It's inspiring and mind boggling all at the same time.
We pitched a tent in the camping area, but the weather was miserable - impossibly humid and over 90 degrees. My allergies kicked up and I was snorking and wheezing and my eye was puffed up so we drove to a gas station and I dosed myself with Benedryl. It's the only way I was able to pass out for a couple of hours at a time. I woke up drenched in sweat and smelling of swamp moose. And I was just a spectator. I can't imagine what it was like for the runners.
I may never be able to run 100 miles, but that isn't one of my goals. My goals are "me" sized and I just keep pushing every single day. Small victory - I was able to get in and out of our tent without a struggle. I couldn't do that a few years ago. I pulled all the tent stakes out of the ground by myself. I stood for several hours, outside in the hot sun and didn't pass out (yes, I have fainted from too much heat on numerous occasions). And now I find myself thinking, if I could do those things overweight and doped up on Benadryl, what can I do when I put my mind to something?
It's been a while since I got my Manadee tattoo, but every time I see her in the mirror, I remember "Oh, Yes I Can!" This year I'm getting a new tattoo, another reminder to keep going, to keep pushing, to keep my head held high. I'm emblazoning the words of Bianca Del Rio on my shoulder, "Not today Satan, Not today!"
' Habits can help or hinder you in so many ways. We get set in our routines, which can be good, but also bad if those routines aren't serving us. Eating cake after every meal or binge watching Netflix and not getting enough sleep every night isn't good. Brushing your teeth every night and taking your vitamins probably serves you better. So why is it so dang difficult to nurture habits that are helpful. I feel good when I go to water aerobics, but it's so much harder make that routine stick than shoveling in cake. Cake is easy. Maybe that's why that habit sticks.
I think that as human beings we are genetically wired to seek the path of least resistance. Our primal brains want us to conserve energy and get fat so we can survive the lean times more robustly. Except in our current culture, the lean days aren't coming. I've heard before that it takes 21 days to form a habit, but that's a little too under-complicated. Sure, you may be able to commit something to memory like taking your vitamins, but it can take much longer to really change your routine. We are creatures of habit. Our brain holds fiercely to the things that have been ingrained in us, our psychological coping mechanisms. And, I think that is the real reason it's so hard to change.
I'm not just trying to eat less cake; I'm trying to override the desire to soothe anxiety, stress, and fear with food. I'm trying to avoid situations that are potentially uncomfortable or painful by taking my mind off of it with Netflix. I'm addicted to the high three slices of cake and six episodes of CSI can bring. I know it sounds melodramatic, but there is plenty of research to suggest that I'm on to something here.
Doe this mean that I just give up on healthy habits and go wallow in a three layer double fudge cake? Tempting, but no. It means that I just keep on trying, even if it's like wrastling that bear I'm always talking about. That's one of the reasons I write this blog, accountability. I haven't written so much lately because I get busy and tired and then I start thinking that maybe it's not worth it, but it is. It so is. Sitting down this morning and clicking away at the keypad has made me stop and think about a few things. First, the chocolate cake sitting in my fridge (hey, habits don't change overnight) and about taking my vitamins.
Sometimes you just have to will yourself to go against your primal brain and try something different. And one day at a time, one thing at a time you start to form a healthy habit. You just keep doing it over and over until one day, you're taking your vitamins and you don't even remember a time when you didn't. And you just keep putting one foot in front of the other. Every time you fall off the wagon you get back on, until getting back on the wagon becomes as natural as eating cake.
If you know me or have read any of my blog posts in the past, you know how excited I get when I find something that I love and I'm over the moon about a new deodorant that I love. I know, I know. It's just deodorant, except that it's not. I've always struggled to find that perfect stick, and I've tried so very many different kinds. At one point, I decided to switch to natural products because I know that antiperspirants aren't health and cancer runs in my family. Let's just say, things got stinky for a hot minute (ha ha ha, hot minute, get it?). A few just didn't hold up AT ALL, they were no match for my funk. And then I thought I found one that I loved, but I was allergic to the baking soda and my underarms swelled up and got all lumpy (it was gross and painful). A dose of antibiotics later, I was DONE with natural deodorant.
But then I saw a Facebook commercial and it was hilarious. I'm all about the advertising and this company had it down pat. Seriously, I'm linking the add at the end of this blog, check it out and snort laugh a little. So, I took the plunge and bought a stick of Lume. At first, I thought, this is really weird because it comes in a stick just like regular deodorant, but it's kind of a paste like consistency and I got the unscented kind so I was a bit skeptical. As a side note, this can be used on all your parts, arm pits - private parts (as per the ad). Anyway, it's NOT an antiperspirant, but they promised me that it would eat all the bacteria under my arms so they couldn't fart out foul odors (their words, not mine). So there I was giving it a go.
Three months later I am SOLD! I still sweat, but I don't stink! Seriously. And no more lumpy arm pits because there is ZERO baking soda. After using it every single day, I can even forget to put it on for a day or so and STILL not stink! Notice my all caps? That's because I seriously cannot believe how well this stuff works! And, I'm super excited that they have added three new scents to their line up! I just ordered them all because I'm kind of picky when it comes to scents and I can't wait to try them. Apparently, my enthusiasm for purchasing their products did not go unnoticed (did I mention that I LOVE this stuff?). They offered me an affiliate link. WOOOHOOOO!!!
If you'd like to find out if Lume is as awesome as I say it is, you can buy it through my affiliate link! I get a few cents for every stick you purchase AND you get entered to win FREE Lume product EVERY WEEK! Who doesn't love winning stuff? Plus, they give you FREE shipping when you buy 2 or more items so you can try all the scents! Try it out and let me know what you think AND watch the ad below for that snort laugh I promised as well as some very insightful information. Buy it here.
So how bout this weather? I don't know what it's like where you're at, but I just watched the rain fall from one direction, and snow fluff from the other direction at the same time around midnight last night! Pretty soon I'm going to be rowing my Prius to work like a kayak. It's not really motivation weather, but despite how tired I feel at the moment, I'm riding a surprising wave of optimism.
I didn't make it to the gym at all last week BUT I did start drinking shakes for breakfast and lunch most of last week. They were tasty and filling which really helped me out with portion control. I also found an add for a meal company called Freshly that sends fresh made microwave meals. I can't even begin to describe to you the deliciousness factor! AND, they are so easy. Just pop in the mikey - instant meal. While I didn't make perfect choices last week, I did lose 1.3 pounds so I'm super excited about my progress. It's all about mindset!
When you feel sad or defeated, it carries over into every aspect of your life. It snowballs faster than you can blink. Of course I know I'll still have bad days, but I really want to work on breathing deep and having a positive attitude. I've started putting "but I'm still awesome" at the end of all my setbacks. I ate all the pork nachos, but I'm still awesome. I didn't go to the gym today, but I'm still awesome. I just want to punch today in the face, but I'm still awesome.
Telling myself this over and over is helping me to stop attaching my self worth to a particular situation or outcome. It didn't go according to plan, but that doesn't matter because I'm still awesome! And you know what awesome people do? They get back up and they try again. They experiment and try new things without fear of failure. They carpe the dang diem. Try it. Look at yourself in the mirror and ask "Whose awesome?" then with all the confidence you can muster, declare "I am!".
Ok, full disclosure, I haven't been tracking in my Weight Watchers app for about a week now. Life happened and I ate all the things. I'm back though and ready to hit this full force with a genius plan. You know how they always sell weight loss and fitness programs with the words "Boot Camp" in them? This brings to mind lots of sweating, pain, and not fun times and I'm more of a rainbows and kittens kind of gal. So, anywho, I've got my own plan and it involves stickers (of course).
I'm hitting the Sticker Revolution hard and setting up my own more whimsical and fluffy "Boot Camp" maybe I'll call it "WOOOHOOO Camp!". Catchy right? So, this is all being spurred by a particular event. On September 7th, we're going camping at Clinton State Park to watch one of the most inspirational people I know run a 100 mile marathon. Lawrence is several hours away and car rides really kill me, plus, we'll be in a tent and up and down throughout the night and day. With my medical and weight issues, this is going to be a REAL struggle for me physically (not to mention emotionally). Hey look at this guy running a 100 mile marathon and your dying on a car ride. But that's what "WOOOHOOO Camp!" is all about! I'm implementing a routine (or series of routines) from now until September 7th to help me get to a more positive place mentally, AND to get myself back on track with things that help me be more healthy physically.
In the Sticker Revolution, we usually set 3 goals for ourselves per week, but I'm just going for broke and trying to earn ALL the stickers! But seriously, this is what it's going to look like for me. Starting tomorrow, the following items are on the agenda: 1. No electronics after 8:00 p.m. (except my Headspace sleep cast). 2. Track my food in weight watchers every day and try to have 4 roll over points as often as I can so I can still have a good weekend. 3. Go to personal training 2 days per week AND bump up my daily step count. 4. Actually follow my night and morning routines which include things like laying out my clothes and packing lunch. 5. Use my Headspace and Curable apps EVERY day. 6. Take my dang vitamins every day.
If I do this consistently for a whole month, I'll be establishing good habits which will become reflex, and hopefully, I can build up to doing even bigger and better things. For right now, I'll just be happy with not feeling like I arm wrestled a bear after sleeping in a tent for a weekend. "WOOOHOO Camp!" here I come.
I'm an entrepreneur, educator, blogger, and Pure Romance Consultant breaking through stigmas and helping women find their voice.