Humanity: Raw & Unfiltered
I’m beautiful. I say it under the dim bathroom light: I. Am. Beautiful. I take solace in the light on my face. I take solace in the light on my skin, on the fat that creases and bulges. I hold my stomach in my hands, squish and squash my love Read more
I have written a million poems about my body. How she couldn’t stay in her lane, fit in her assigned container, listen to directions. How she never did what was expected, lived in the fray, wandered endlessly from ship to ship.
I think of all the women I admire most in my life, the ones who smile to expose years of laughter at the corners of their eyes or the sides of their mouths and I find so much beauty in that. So much grace in the lines of their foreheads, or the way a strong neck can still look so ready to shoulder so many burdens, even as the skin has begun to thin and sag just the slightest. There is something exquisite in the thin wisps of silver in my mother’s hair. The strands are so clearly defined, I can almost count them individually, as though I know how she earned every one.
a young girl watches her mother faint from lack of food not because the fridge is empty but because her mother chooses to leave her belly so and in two years time this girl will exercise in her room and stop eating breakfast and lunch because she is disgusted at Read more
I look down and I see these hands of mine that don’t look like they belong to me….weathered and worn, signs of veins that want to speak of their pain from lifting too many heavy bags and subjected to the strains of ex – haustion while wanting to breathe into Read more
Daughter, I failed today. I’ve been a hypocrite. You may only be 3, but I work every day to teach you that your body is your own. Your body is more than the size it takes up or the shape it’s formed into. I want you to know your body Read more
January Flashback: Originally published on FC, September 2014 As a celebrity and fashion hairstylist, I often find myself living out of a suitcase. The majority of my time is spent in the USA, splitting my home between New York, Los Angeles, and Miami. Today, I’m landing in Paris, where I Read more
the torn silk edges of the clouds against cottonblue skies the field trembling with the windswept elizabethan ruffs of yellowblushed daisies a jaundiced sunset hunched against violet crush of encroaching tempest fleshly canvas stretched over yellow-white marrowthreaded frame of bone such transient loveliness, and all so unbearably sad it turns Read more