Starving myself for Love.

There is a song by Florence + The Machine called Hunger. Go listen to it. She speaks to this notion of starving yourself for love. I relate to this. As I walk along the streets in Paris, men stare and call my “name” — “Bella”. I do not mind. Things change once I buy myself a gorgeous bouquet of flowers. Women are not as kind. For I am in awe. I admire my own flowers — smell the delicate roses. Men are less interested — did someone buy her those? Is she taken? It is a lovely feeling. I am not wearing a wedding ring — but I own myself. You see, I really do love — love. I am a romantic at heart. I could write men love poems all day. I could bath in rosewater and stare into the eyes of another person — seeing the universe in their soul. All I want is true love. And, that has led me down many dangerous paths. As my Rabbi once said, like her, I’d look for a diamond in a pile of Shit. I see the Gd light in people — which is a gift & curse. It means I have stayed too long with abusive men, and taken things I did not deserve to be served.

I think I have not truly seen my own body until now. I always looked at my body — my stomach — every piece — every little fold — wanting to change it. I wanted to be skinnier. I have been a size 0 since I was a teenager. What the FUCK does a size ZERO even mean? Is that something to be proud of — a size that does not exist? I truly do eat, but people have shamed me for being anorexic. It is sad. There are these impossible standards — you are too skinny — too fat — never enough.

I worked at an eating disorder center as a group therapist for about a year. I learned a lot. Most importantly, I learned how fucked my own beauty standards are.

It is SO HARD to not want to lose weight — or not feel guilty about eating that extra portion — when everyone is telling you that to get a husband you need to be pretty — you need to fit the ideal.

As a woman who has had the privilege of a higher metabolism, it is a double edged sword. I feel small — I have dainty features. I have small, perky breasts and a slender frame. I have a round butt and curves, but I am a little woman. I am a delicate flower. I have admired my friends with their thick frames and voluptuous bodies — wishing I was different. I prayed to God for bigger breasts when I was a little girl. It is funny. We always want what we do not have. It has taken many years, but I now make love to my own body.

You see — I can look at my belly — my breasts — my features and smile. That was not easy to do. Yet, I realized that I only have this present moment in this body. Everything can change. We are not promised anything. Youth fades. Bodies change. It is time to embrace YOU.

Botox — plastic surgery — they are all temporary. You can do anything you want to your body. But, make sure it is for YOU. Personally, I’d rather embrace my grey hair & wrinkles — for they are signs of WISDOM.

FUCK EVERYONE WHO TELLS YOU WHAT TO EAT — WHAT TO WEAR — HOW TO LOOK.

I want my younger sister, Alex, to look at their body and see BEAUTY. YOU are gorgeous. It does not matter what size or shape you are, your imagination and creativity — your soul is what shines. I hope you create with reckless abandon and love every curve on your body honey. I love you.

I am so tired of men, and other women, shaming our bodies and food choices.

There are literally people starving for food. I am done obsessing over what I eat. It is a fucking privilege to even have food.

We should be grateful for what we have — our bodies — our health — and our ability to sustain ourselves.

In Paris, after talking to men about philosophy and getting dizzy on gin, I ate fries and a cheeseburger. I did not worry about my stomach — bloating — or anything silly like that. Old me would have. Old me would have ordered a fucking salad.

Fuck that.

Yes, I enjoy nourishing food — and I love salads actually — but I also enjoy a great burger.

I enjoy some meat and potatoes. Like my grandpa George. Not mashed potatoes and whiskey (his favorite) — but perhaps a burger & a nice gin with some ginger beer. That is my poison.

I want to live on this Earth in acceptance and love of my body. By doing this, I can more fully love others. I can more fully embrace each person’s soul. For, I do not see your physical body — I see your aura.

I fall in love with YOUR SOUL.