I will be big


How to be a good girl:

  • Work hard to look attractive, but pretend that you don’t know you are.
  • Act “polite” at all times, even when you’re being treated poorly. 
  • Be grateful for what you’re given and don’t dare ask for more. 
  • Look pretty at all times. Always. Be. Pretty.
  • Understand that being pretty is the rent you must pay in order to take up space in this world, and be thankful for that opportunity.
  • Look and act sexy for others, but never for yourself.
  • Put men’s comfort before your own.
  • Put everyone’s comfort before your own.
  • Act confident, but not in a way that could threaten anyone. 
  • Never voice opinions that challenge other people’s way of thinking – your job is to make people comfortable, remember?
  • Apologise for everything- the way you look, the way you think, the way you speak, the way you exist. 
  • Shave off all your body hair, do your makeup, dress in a sexy-yet-tasteful, trendy, figure-flattering, age-appropriate way, suck in that tummy, push out those tits, shut up, smile, and take it
  • Be small – physically, mentally, spiritually, and emotionally.
  • !!Remember that small is the most important thing you should be!!
  • Remember that small is more important than pretty. 



A long time ago I decided that I would under no circumstances betray myself or make myself smallever – in order to make the people around me more comfortable in my presence. This decision to choose authenticity over approval was the single most empowering decision I’ve ever made for myself… and in the years following has cost me countless friends, jobs, boyfriends, opportunities, and overall likability from the masses.

But you know what? To hell with likability, being polite, being accepted, being understood, fitting in, and most of all…

to hell with being small.

Who gives a shit about being accepted if you’re so exhausted from stuffing yourself to fit into the tiny mould you’ve been allotted that you no longer recognise the person you’ve become? Who cares about being liked if you don’t even respect yourself anymore?

Who are you anyways if your identity changes on a whim depending on the people you’re around?

Are you anyone at all?


From now on, I will no longer make myself small, in any way, to accommodate the teeny, tiny people surrounding me.
From now on, I will be big.
From now on, they will rise up to meet me.


I would rather be alone than small.
I would rather be alone than small.
I would rather be alone than small.

I will repeat this to myself until it’s the only thing I can hear.


I will not betray myself to make others comfortable.
I will not betray myself to make others comfortable.
I will not betray myself to make others comfortable.

I will repeat this to myself until I believe it so deeply, so intensely, that it’s all I can feel.


I deserve to take up as much space as I want.
I deserve to take up as much space as I want.
I deserve to take up as much space as I want.

I will repeat this to myself until I’m large with emotion and thick with integrity, and I can stare myself in the face and not only like, but actually respect the person I see staring back at me. 



Opinions are cheap, and I am no longer interested in approval from people who scare easy or are intimidated by what they don’t understand… so if you’re not out there every day, pushing yourself forward, asking questions, being vulnerable, living with courage, standing for something, then I am not concerned with your opinions of me.

I’m not interested in approval from the masses because I’m not for the masses… I’m for me, and for a small group of fearless souls who, like me, have made promises to protect their authenticity at the expense of fitting in. My soul is too precious to give away to just anyone – no – I’m saving it to share with those who deserve to hear my story.

I save my heart to share with people who will listen without judgement, sit with me in my lows, celebrate with me in my highs, laugh with their bellies, and hug with their hearts, and the connections we form are one-thousand times more beautiful than any connection formed out of trying to fit in and please those less courageous.

So here I am. My face is bare, my mind is open, my heart is full, my head is high, my voice is steady, my soul is light… and damnit, it feels fantastic to take up all this space: to take what I deserve!

So while people continue to try and convince me to be small and silent, I plan to become the biggest, baddest, hairiest bitch I can be,* and anyone who can’t handle me at my largest, highest, and fullest can kindly step the fuck out of my way.

*and I encourage you to do the same.

who do you love? me, or the idea of me.


What is love and what is merely a fantasy? That my friends is the question I’ve been wresting with lately, and I’ll tell you why:

Over the years I’ve come to discover that I am a perfect candidate for sad men to project their delusional fantasies of women onto. They flock to me because I’m nice, I’m pretty, I’m approachable, I smile a lot, and I’m always on the move; never planning to stay in one place for too long. This combination makes me both pleasant and unattainable, which is apparently what these sad guys never knew they needed – until I showed up, and then they did.

Upon meeting, we speak briefly about some surface-level stuff, I laugh at one of their jokes, I look them in the eyes, I’m kind to them… and then just like that – bam – they’re completely in love with me… except for they’re not; they’re in love with the idea of me, and more specifically, the idea of what that type of woman can do for them.

Without any warning they become completely obsessed with the imaginary stories they’re writing about who I am and what I can bring into their lives. What a “girl like me” can do for them. I represent something far beyond any form of reality to these guys; I’m a fantasy. I’m the strawberry-flavoured bubble gum that is going to fill in the cracks of their broken life; the manic pixie dream girl they’ve always wanted, delivered straight to their doorstep – with no strings attached.

I can spot these men from a mile away. They have empty, hopeful puppy eyes that look right through me, and endless amounts of time to spend following me around. They’re completely enamoured by me before they know anything real about who I am. They use words like “perfect” and “special” and “not like other girls” before they ask what part of the world my accent is from or what my interests are. They profess their love and affection before knowing anything real about me at all; because they don’t care who I am – I could be anyone – the only thing they care about is what they think I can do for them.

In these men’s eyes I’m a perfect little dream – bubbly, polite, beautiful, and mysterious. I’m a pretty blank canvas with kind eyes that they can attach all of their hopes and dreams onto, wrapped up tight in a bow, with a cherry on top.

My presence becomes a bright beacon of light and excitement in these men’s mundane lives, and they cling to me in hopes that I will pull them out of their stale reality. To them I represent a chance at a life they always wanted but never thought they could have… that is, until a beautiful woman like me came along and handed it over to them – doing all the work they never felt like doing for themselves, picking up the pieces of their broken life, putting it back together, stroking their ego’s, and smiling while doing it.

These guys pull me tightly into their grasps without a warning or option to turn away; what I want has never occurred to them. They claim me, slapping their name across my forehead, and locking me in their desperate, lovesick prison. This all happens so suddenly it makes my head spin with a mix of confusion and all-too-familiar-dread – a heavy knot forming in the pit of my stomach.

I never agreed to be a part of their fantasy. I never wanted this, asked for this, agreed to this, but here I am with the crushing weight of their expectations placed on my back. Being forced up onto the pedestal they’ve created for me, a beautiful illusion only they can see, with nowhere to go but down.

With each passing minute, I can feel the heat of these men’s delusions slowly tightening their sweaty grip around my neck. Their famished, desperate eyes are eating me alive – licking their lips and salivating – caging me in with their fantasies, and drowning me in the visions of who they are sure to become now that I’m in their lives; now that I have made anything possible.

Meanwhile, I am gasping for air and scrambling to detach myself; to wretch myself free, to scream, to run, to escape this hell-hole I’m being forcefully shoved down into. Their dreams are my nightmares.

These men don’t understand it when I pull away from them. I’ve blindsided them – they’re confused. They need answers from me; endless explanations of how and why I could do this to them. How I could take everything away without consulting them… How I could change my mind… How I could suddenly be so cold.

I tell them I don’t owe them any explanation.

These men don’t like this. They don’t like it when I say no. I am not the type of girl that says no – not to them. I am there to say yes. My role is to please and to listen and to delight – that’s it. No is not an option. No is not a word that a pretty mouth like mine should be saying. No is not polite. 

They’re sad, they’re angry, they’re hurt. I’ve hurt them…. I need to understand how much I’ve hurt them. It’s not fair what I’ve done to them. I’ve upset them. They are devastated and they do not deserve this. They treated me like a princess… like the princess that I am!! I am their princess – their’s. How dare I not consider their feelings! How dare I act so selfishly!!

How dare I choose myself!!!

This affection – this sick and twisted infatuation that they feel towards me is a wet and heavy type of feeling. It’s not romantic; it’s desperate and slimy – like humid, sticky, influenza-infected breath slowly creeping down my neck – breathing their stale heat onto my skin, too close for comfort.

This lust they feel is rooted so far from reality that it’s destined to fail from the very beginning, because no version of real-life could ever compete with the perfect delusions inside their head. As a result, any human qualities I display inevitably clash with their perfect visions, and send them into a fit of furious rage and utter disgust.

Then just as fast as it started – their affection for me bursts into flames, burns up, and dies an angry, resentful death. A death that is my fault. A betrayal.

Suddenly I go from being the most perfect, precious woman they have laid their eyes on to the coldest, cruellest, nastiest bitch these men have ever had the unfortunate luck of encountering. 

How much of a wicked, frigid catastrophe-of-a-woman must I be to turn down the affection of someone as selfless and caring as them, anyway?

What is wrong with me? Who do I think I am?? Why do the nice guys ALWAYS finish last!?!?

I’m a slut… most likely – that explains it.
A disgusting, insecure tease.
Not worthy of their time, anyways.
A dumb, dirty, heartless whore.
Gross, awful, difficult.
Not capable of love.
Daddy issues, probably.
Full of herself, shallow, insane, worthless.
Crazy Bitch.

What these men don’t understand – what they are missing – is that I possess all of these qualities and none of these qualities, all at once, all the time, depending on who it is that’s judging me… and guess what?

I don’t care who I am to you.

I don’t care that I’ve hurt you, threatened your ego, or made you feel insecure. I don’t care that you wanted more than I was able to give you. I don’t care that your expectations weren’t met, and I don’t care that I’ve let you down. 

I am not a ride to be taken, a high to trip on, an experience to be bought, or a boost of creative energy. I am not a pill you can pop, liquid courage, or magic fairy dust. I will not take you on a ride and show you new worlds. I am not a tool to be used, I will not fix your life, and most importantly…

I am not yours.

I am a human person with complex layers; some are pretty and some are not. I am proud of this, proud of my human-ness, my gritty parts, my bad sides. These are important to me because they are part of who I am – and I like who I am.

So here is my unsolicited advice for these sad men with the puppy dog eyes (or anyone at all) :

If you want to form real and intimate relationships with others, you have to embrace the whole of who they are and not only the pretty parts.

You have to provide this person with a space where they feel safe to reveal who they are to you, on their own terms, without expectations. You have to enjoy spending time with them because you actually like who they are, and not only what you perceive they can do for you.

You have to show up, be vulnerable, be honest, and reveal yourself in return – without an agenda. Lay it all out there, and let them decide what they want to do with that. Give the other person a choice to leave or stay, and respect their right to choose. Understand that they know what’s best for them and you know what’s best for you.

Contrary to what every blockbuster movie and sappy love song says, humans are not one half of a whole, floating around aimlessly until we find the other piece to complete us. No, we are already whole, complete beings – right here, right now – every one of us. Everything we need in order to move forward and thrive is already within us; we just have to be brave enough to uncover it.

In order to do this we have to create a space inside ourselves where it feels safe to reveal the deepest layers of our being – our soft and ugly parts, our pain and shame – without judgement or expectations, and release them (if it was stored with pain, it will release with pain – this is okay). From this space of non-judgement, we are free to dig around in our most hidden parts, see what we find, lean in with curiosity and compassion, feel the feelings, pull close what serves us, and release what doesn’t.

This is how we love ourselves wholly and fully – embrace what is actually there, not only what we wish was there.

And this is my questions for you… aren’t you worthy of this kind of authentic love? Aren’t you worthy of being seen, fully and completely by another person – by yourself – and being accepted for that? None of us are perfect, but aren’t we valuable and loveable regardless??

I know it is absolutely terrifying to dig deep inside and stare the stuff we hate about ourselves head on. I know it feels like doing that might destroy you, and maybe it will, but I promise the person who is revealed on the other side of those ruins will be worth it.

So here’s a thought to consider…

Maybe we cling so desperately to a perfect ideal of others for the same reasons we cling to a perfect ideal of ourselves – because we are afraid. Maybe looking past the surface of another person and into their true being is terrifying because it forces us to do the same. Maybe the reason we are unable to see and love others fully is actually because we are unable to fully see and love ourselves. 

Maybe this is okay.

Maybe everything we feel is okay. Maybe this is all part of being human, this struggle, and maybe we all share in this experience – the one in which we come to understand that after everything we have been through, we are worthy of love and belonging. Maybe that’s the point of this life – to love and be loved – to uncover our true selves, layer by layer, the pretty and the not-so-pretty, and to form loving relationships with others who are doing the same. 

Maybe we don’t need to cling so hopelessly to a picture perfect ideal of who we think we ought to be. Maybe we are actually enough right now, right as we are, and maybe we always were. 

With Love,




** some more thoughts on relationships and love can be found—> here
** plus a couple of nice quotes about being a human being —> here and here

language / life lessons

Thoughts / Travel

Hey there wonderful humans!

As many of you may know, I spent just over six and a half months traveling through Mexico and Guatemala this winter, having the time of my freeking life, eating my weight in refried beans, and communicating mostly with hand signals and broken Spanglish. Towards the end of my time in Latin America I decided to travel to Guatemala to take some Spanish classes (and live with a Spanish-only speaking family) in an attempt to give up the hand signals in favour of actually speaking this thing we call Español; and let’s just say it was a wild, wild ride.

If you’ve ever wondered if throwing yourself into a situation / country / culture where not a single person speaks the same language as you feels overwhelming and terrifying- it does. If it seems like a challenge that requires patience, compassion, countless hours of studying, conversations with strangers about the weather, hot pink flash cards, endless cups of coffee, and many, many, many situations where you look/feel like an idiot – it does. BUT!! If this challenge seems impossible or insurmountable- it is absolutely not.

I promise. 

I’m not going to sit here and pretend that learning a language is easy (or was easy for me) because that would be a lie, and I’m definitely not going to pretend that after three weeks of school I’m somehow fluent, cause that would also be a lie (and would entirely miss the point of what made this process such an incredible learning experience for me.)

I was faced with a lot of uncomfortable and confronting truths about myself throughout my time in Guatemala that stung a little at first, but actually ended up teaching me so much more than I ever imagined. One of the hardest pills to swallow was confronting my tendency to be a perfectionist…. and before we get taking about how that’s not a good thing, just realise that I KNOW. I know, I know, I know. I know that perfectionism is just a shield to hide vulnerability- a shield I use to protect myself from feeling exposed, or like a failure, or like I’m not good enough.

But amigos! If you really want to stare perfectionism (fear) in the face and say “thank’s for trying to protect me, but you gotta go” then seriously- learn another language- because there is absolutely no room for perfection in that process. Seriously. NONE!!!

So anyways, throughout my time in school, struggling through my lack of perfection and overall ability to communicate the most basic of thoughts, I started compiling a list of all the lessons I was being confronted with. This list originally started off in the back of my notebook as small thoughts and encouraging notes, but after reading it at the end of my three weeks, it turns out it’s actually just a big list of lessons that can be applied to life in general. 

So here it is! Disfrutar. (enjoy 😉 )

Language lessons:

  • anything worth doing will feel terrifying and vulnerable at first
  • patience is the ultimate virtue needed for growth
  • there is no shame in not knowing something
  • there is no shame in starting from square one
  • starting is the hardest part – so just do it already
  • sometimes children know more about something than you do and are the least judgemental people to learn from 
  • if you are patient and compassionate with yourself, you can accomplish anything (seriously)
  • perfectionism is only fear disguised- and we don’t need that, do we?
  • getting something wrong is not a point of shame or disappointment, it’s a helpful tool
  • comparing yourself to others serves no one
  • criticising yourself serves no one
  • feeling ashamed serves no one
  • would you talk to a friend this way? no? then don’t talk to yourself that way
  • you’re doing the best you can, and that is enough
  • sometimes taking a day off is more productive than working
  • the more you learn, the more you realise how little you know (the challenge is to let this realisation empower and inspire you, not discourage you)
  • your voice is more than your words
  • your personality is more than your voice
  • your character is more than your personality
  • trust in the process
  • trust in your ability to grow 
  • the basics must be learnt before the fun stuff (sad but true)
  • just because people look at you like you’re stupid doesn’t mean that you are (you’re not)
  • being misunderstood does not make you wrong, it makes you different, and there is nothing wrong with being different
  • its impossible to learn everything at once
  • it’s reckless to try and learn everything at one
  • you are a smart, capable, highly adaptable human being- and don’t you ever forget it 
  • patience, patience patience, patience, patience patience
  • practice, practice, practice, practice, practice, practice
  • your idea of success will be different than anyone else’s
  • your learning process will be different than anyone else’s
  • coffee makes everything better (until it makes everything worse)
  • sleep > coffee
  • even when it feels like you’re going backwards – you’re progressing (promise)
  • kindness needs no language to be communicated, and that’s really the most important thing after all

So now I want to know, what’s a goal of yours that feels a little out of reach and slightly terrifying? Maybe now is the time to start, and hopefully keeping some of these lessons in mind will help you to persevere when it get’s tough – because it will.

Love you guys! Stay ambitious and endlessly compassionate with yourselves. You deserve it.





** why I decided to go to Latin America and how I deal with change can be found—> here
** a nice lil quote about growth can be found —> here

the women inside of me have big summer plans


Hiiiii! Last year I wrote a post titled “the women inside of me” where I made up, named, and described the personalities of four women I dress like on a daily basis. It got a little weird (in the best way possible), and as it turns out, I continue to subconsciously dress like these women even today. So! Because that was so much fun, and I have a very small window of time where my full wardrobe is available to me, I thought I would write another one!

Although you haven’t heard from them in a while, these ladies have been !BU! !SY! They’ve got places to be, people to see, life to be lived, and they wear some pretty weird and wonderful shit in the process.

So first things first, if you haven’t read the first part that I wrote last year, you’re going to have to do that now, otherwise what’s coming next is going to make even less sense than it does already (it’s a short and happy read).
Link is right here!

You’re back? Perfect, let’s do it!

The women inside of me have some big summer plans, and they include:


Propagating her plants and giving them away as gifts. Taking her grandchildren to the farmers market to buy them ice cream and soap. DIY-ing a bird feeder. Bribing the neighbourhood children to cut her grass in exchange for jars of homemade pickles. Picking wildflowers in the ditch, then taking them home to plant in her flowerbeds.

shirt and pants- thrifted
earrings, basket, and shoes – Mexico


Posting photos of her friends from gymnastics to Instagram captioned “The Girls.” Begging her parents to get a dog. Stuffing a tube top and a tiny bottle of green alcohol into her purse to use at her best friends “sleepover” later that night. Blue eyeliner, and lots of it. Screaming “you don’t even know me anymore!!” at her mom at least once. Cutting hair elastics out of her tangly head.

shirt (scarf), cardigan, shorts, belt,
shoes, and bag – thrifted
pom pom – Mexico


Taking a belly dancing class, then planning a trip to Egypt to “see the birthplace of it.” Going on a winery tour with Carol- her recently divorced co-worker, and accidentally getting really drunk on pinot noir. Taking photos of the birds in her neighbours backyard when they aren’t home. Flirting with the yoga instructor. Attending a class about moths, then getting a tattoo of one on her upper thigh.

shirt, skirt, and scarf – thrifted
backpack – matt and nat • shoes – teva


Taking a pottery class and exclusively making tiny bowls that are good for pretty much nothing. Deciding to reorganise her entire apartment at 3am because the “flow” is off. Going to to concerts alone. Starting an etsy shop of ethically sourced, hand made, naturally dyed kites. Going on blind dates with french pilots and single dad’s with ironic moustaches. Painting her front door orange.

dress, skirt, shoes, and necklace – thrifted
bag – Mexico

Wowowowow, what a neat group of ladies these are! Not going to lie, I plan to do a lot of these activities myself this summer (I’m especially into wildflower picking and shameless flirting with random french people these days… and the blue eyeliner is slowly growing on me).

I love fashion, but at the end of the day, I dress for me. I find it empowering and sooooo much fun to just do whatever I want with my wardrobe, and isn’t that what clothing is supposed to be about anyways – feeling empowered and having fun?? (other than not being naked, which is also pretty empowering and fun).

If you didn’t notice, most of this clothing was purchased either second hand, from a classic, quality brand, or from a Mexican Grandma. This personally works for me because I find it more fun to shop second hand, and ethically I feel much better about it too. It feels good to take items that are already in the waste stream and give them a new life, to support a quality brand doing good things and sustainable initiatives, and of course, to support a local person making beautiful things instead of giving your money to a multinational corporation.

My wardrobe is eclectic and able to take me from basically any climate and culture with varying modesty-levels, anywhere in the world, but it’s also quite small. By pairing down my wardrobe over the years to only what I absolutely love, I’ve been able to get a really clear idea of my personal style, my lifestyle, and the items I will realistically wear depending on these two factors. With this in mind, it makes it 1000x easier to shop and only buy what I absolutely love and need, and keeps the clutter and stress out of my closet and in turn – my life. (A win-win?)

Thanks for reading, friends! I hope this made you smile and inspired you to put on something you feel confident, happy, and wholly yourself in today, and I hope you consider what (and who) you are supporting when you purchase clothing in the future.





Thoughts on how perfectionism kills progress can be found —> here,
and another post to make you smile can be found —> here.