Tag Archives: Life

The simple things…

Sometimes I feel my life passing near me and I think I’m not doing something special to fulfill it. And today, when I woke up, I felt like one of those days when you want to do everything and in the end you do nothing. So I threw away my TO DO LIST for today. I didn’t save Africa from starving and I haven’t stop the floods in the Balkans like a freakin’ superhero but…Well, today turned out not so bad.. I took advantage of this day off and I felt goooood… I wrote, I created my page, I cooked a nice dinner for my family and we shared a moment together. 
Sometimes it’s all about the simple things:)


To be or not to be…? :)

When do you know how to act like a lady or …not? Diplomacy or street style? Should you turn your head for the second slap or should you raise the blade?

In my country it is said: The bent head, the sword won’t cut. It’s an universally convention that we should not lower ourselves and enter in polemics with persons inferior to us. It is said that silence is also an answer? But… is it, really??

I think there are times when your nerves are so stretched out that not even a whole bottle a Xanax could not calm you down. What do you do? You pull out your claws or do still go with civilized way? Remember, the battles are won by people who rest Zen, read some Sun Tzu 🙂

I believe there are two kinds of people. First, the really stupid ones, that no matter what you do or say, they will never understand it. They just don’t have the capabilities to process any information. They are so locked up in their stupid heads, that no one can release not even one neuron to function.

Second category: smart, intelligent people, with whom you really enjoy having a contradiction, a battle in arguments. For me, it’s always a pleasure, one of my guilty pleasures 🙂

But, there is also a third species, the most dangerous one. Capable enough to make the effort to respond, but widely stupid to have a good argument but insisting and taking action as their damaged brain commands. What do you do? Will you sit as an asshole without doing anything?

Sometimes is really good to let it all out!

And yes, sometimes you need to shut the fuck up! (when the situation requires it) I, for one, have a big mouth. And I might over talk sometimes. Then I regret for not keeping my mouth shut.(because sometimes I really do talk a lot, and I mean A LOT).

But most of the time you have to say what you think. It’s better to have it said that not saying it at all. It’s like the character of Valmont from Les Liasons Dangereuses by Choderlos de Laclos, or was it Iago from Othello, … doesn’t matter, it’s not mine the reflection, I’m just rewriting a famous quote that says something like “better hanged for tasting than drowned in desire” I have it written somewhere, I’ll look for it.

So, yes, I prefer to let it all out than continuing to hide. Time has come to step out behind the mask. I am what I am. Time has come to take it to another level. I won’ keep this my “before sleeping activity” and have it read only by my best friend.  It doesn’t serve for anything and it’s all in vain. I believe the next step would be to have the courage to reveal …me.

What the fuck is a life hidden behind the masks we wear every day? I sincerely believe that humanity would have so much to gain if you try to be… you. Sometimes I really feel that I lost myself between these different roles I played. The rebel girl, the party setter, the slutty teenager, the independent young woman, the artist, the non-conformist person, the romantic soul, the “I don’t give a fuck” kind of one, the cool young mom, the dominating wife, the sexy woman, the tortured artist, and I could go on like this… at least two days, and not mentioning an almost permanent “I know everything and I know best” shitty person. Oh, and forgetting, the “I’ll do everything to stand out, including very embarrassing stuff”. And I’m getting tired… I am really tired…

I have always tried to stand out of the crowd, to be original and different, but I have never tried to be… me! By wearing all these mask I have lost myself on the way. Who am I? What do I want?  These are the question that are haunting me every day. But I learned something: pretending to be someone else that you’re not can’t bring anything good.

As I begin to think now about my past experiences, I realize the more I tried to be original and extravagant in a copy paste way, the more I had seemed shallow and superficial. I now began to see that the best you to impress, and to make those around you listen to you, respect you and appreciate you…is by being you! Why? Because the ‘you mask” is the oldest you have and usually the more experience you have with one thing, the better you know it. The better you know it, the better you can control it. And if you really get in that point when you take control over yourself, you can do anything you put your mind to! You have the power to control your life and take the best decisions!

Maybe I have mentioned ti before, the story with my coordinating teacher at the university in Bucharest (while studying Film and Television)… the first lesson he taught us, was to write or speak about things we know best, real stories. The dirtiest diamond will be the shiniest! So, I talk about my stories, my emotions and my experiences. What could I know better than this and who could know me better than I do?

And, in the end, I’m proud of myself today. Today, I managed to be a lady, even if I did open my mouth and I did speak for myself. This is self-control. Trust me, one year ago, I would have used all the bad language vocabulary can provide and I would have made a scene to remember. It is not important the subject matter of the incident, it is the way I handled it. It could range from an argument with a driver or a hot discussion with the boss, it doesn’t matter. It matters that in the end you stood for you in an elegant way but firm enough to impose yourself! … I stood tall, and I did it my way 🙂/

Faith – part 2

Part 2

Well, I’m gonna be very short about our few weeks spent in Paris the first. Let’s just say we changed a couple of social hotels (my mom didn’t have the right to keep another two persons where she lived at the moment), we were the new comers in the European Union and our rights were pretty… nonexistent, so the chances to find a job were below 0.

After we spent all my mom’s and grandma’s economies, we had to go back home. Broke. In every possible way. Financially, spiritually, and so on. We had our whole lives in 2 suitcases that we moved from my husband’s mother to my grandparent’s and we finally settled in a small one room apartment in my home town. Honestly, I don’t have any fucking idea how we survived for three months. Fortunately, we raised money from all the members of our family to pay 2 months the rent and the third we left it hanged in the air when we decided to give it one more shot in Paris. This time my mom found us a 7 square meters room to live. Imagine the smallest room in the world with a mattress directly on the floor, a sink, a toilet (in the same room) and an improvised shower. Better said, we were living in bathroom which had a mattress on the floor. We tried to work on the black market with no papers and a shitty pay, but in the end, after 3 weeks we had to live again an unpaid week and go back to Romania, because there was no hope of surviving. To have a better view of the picture, let’s just say my husband had to stay awake in order to keep the rats away from me on the last night in Paris that we spent in a subway station! When I saw The pursuit of happiness, when Will Smith had to sleep with his son in the subway toilets, he had 5 stars conditions…:)

 This time I said, ok, Paris doesn’t want to adopt us! We must accept it and move on. Paris had thrown us away once again. I don’t know if I mentioned it, but I left school the first time we went away. After one year and a half of university, I dropped out for the French dream. It’s not like I was mad about my school. I was doing something just to say I was in school. When I finished high school, my hopes were to be admitted at a film school. After the first rejection at low standard school I was so disappointed and I said I will never get in a good school, so why bother? I went to a private school just to say I was attending university!

Faith has made it possible to arrive in Romania just one day before the closing of inscriptions at the school were I always dreamed to get in. it was a Thursday morning when we arrived at my grandparents and I don’t ask me why I had the impulse to go online and check the dates of inscriptions. Friday was the last day and Monday the exams began. I packed my stuff, I went to my best friend in Bucharest, I didn’t sleep for three days and I got myself prepared for the admission exams. I didn’t tell my family about my plans. This time I didn’t want to play the drama queen role if I was to fail so I kept my mouth shut until I had the results.

The first day we had the written stuff. You can’t imagine how I felt when I met all the applicants. They were talking about film as if they had a 20 years career on their back. Directors and movies and stuff I had never heard in my life before. The terms and the language they used, their way of talking made me feel so small and dumb that they almost made me think to run away and drop everything out! But… I was thinking about the inscription fee I paid and they were my very last money I had so I said to myself… this is now or never.

And of course, because my life is a soap opera, guess what? It ended with a very happy end. I got it! I cried my eyes out. You could have left me without food and water and let me live underground or at the subway, nothing was more important than the fact that I was accepted! That was the day when I got it why Paris didn’t want me! He knew I had left unfinished business back in Romania. Even though I was indoctrinated with the Maktub (this is how it was written) stuff from the Paolo Coelho novel, The Alchemist, since I was 17, this time I was proven that everything happens to a reason. I can’ describe you the tragedy that it was for me to come back not once, but two times, back in Romania, after I bragged at all of my friends that I was going to move in Paris and then come back with my tail between my legs. Yeah… no comment 🙂

My four years of college will make the subject of another story, because they were too great to give them just the supporting role in today’s story. 

Conclusion: No matter how hard you try to escape your destiny, it will always get you back on track.

 Keep your mind open at everything that happens to you. The biggest tragedy is just one episode that leads you to the next greater step! Don’t let yourself disappointed by faith. Everything, and I mean everything happens for a reason. That superior force above us… it’s not resting. Someone once told me… Don’t try to force life, just let it follow its natural course. At that point I said he is just an asshole who didn’t want to take our relationship to the next level… as in… introducing me to his friends as his official girlfriend ( I was 16 and something) :), but you know what… he was so damn right 🙂

So, after exactly 4 years of school, I finally got to live my French dream! Faith has brought me back to Paris and this time was for good! What can I say, it was worth waiting 🙂

“The secret of life, though, is to fall seven times and to get up eight times.” 
― Paulo CoelhoAlchemist

Scent vs. Taste

At the boutique where I work we serve Lasagnas and pastas a la Bolognese. Lasagnas I always loved, or at least their reputation. Back in my country, it’s not something you eat often. So, maybe it’s the fantasy I was mad about. On the other hand, Bolognese… bleah!!! Ground meat, tomato sauce… not something among my favorites.

Lasagnas, Bolognese and other stuff…

Part 1- other stuff…

The thing is… if you want to make time for you, you can sort it out somehow. I have been using all the pretexts and all the excuses in the world for not doing what I had in mind. Not having the time is the lowest excuse ever! If you love something real bad, you find the time! It doesn’t matter if it’s 5 minutes or 5 hours. It’s important to be all the time, ideally on a daily basis. Each and every day of our lives, it counts!

Imagine you’re on your death bed (even if it sound creepy… that day will come, except when you die in an accident, so you are not in your bed). You would do anything to have just one more day. I can’t even imagine how much it means one day! Lives change in one day! Destinies are written in one day. One day can make history! And examples are countless. Think that it was just one day, one moment when I don’t know what Slavic prince was killed and First World War has begun. It was one day when Hitler’s mother decided to get married and have Hitler and we all know how it went. Or, think of the day when Lady Diana died. That changed the course of history. Imagine if she would had lived and had a baby with Dodi… an Arab being the brother of the future king of Great Britain! I can only imagine the face of that castrated boiled rat of Charles and that infatuated non-fucked mother of his. And it was one day that changed everything.

Then why not appreciate every day I have? Why not make every day a celebration of life? Why not take advantage of all the days I have? I work hard every day, I’m there only for the money because living as a bohemian is no longer an option for me when I’m responsible for a little creature which is my baby. I start to realize that I’m in my comfort zone… but really, where’s the soul’s satisfaction? And I don’t understand one thing… why the fuck is it called comfort zone? If you’re comfortable in that situation, why leave it?

It’s true, I don’t have a lot of choices right now because of my immigrant status, but one day I’ll have done all my paperwork… What will I do? For the sake of my life, I hope I’ll wake up and have the courage to take the risk and find something else, even though, changes are not my things. I get attached, easily. It’s hard to let go. But since I’ve emigrated from my country, life has taught me things the hard way, so my ass is so kicked off that it has become senseless. Sometimes is good learning the hard way, I’ve said it before, what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger (ok, I know, it’s someone else who said it before… who cares? … the message is important, not the messenger). So, ok, I don’t believe in this quit your job shit, I have a child to raise, a car to pay, I want to move out from my mom’s place… and my hubby is no Donald fucking Trump, he works hard for a shitty pay check! Welcome to immigrants’ club!

The question is… Can that stop me looking for another job? We’ll see by the end of the year if this goes… somewhere… over the rainbowJ

Part 2- Lasagnas Theory

So, I began writing about scent vs. taste. I know I left it unfinished but the important is I have started in the first place. There is no problem, look, I’m finishing now.

However, beginning things and never finish them that’s another thing.

I have mentioned the lasagnas. Let’s say I’ve drooled…literally, I’ve drooled about those lasagnas. The scent in the air, Good Lord, they were making me go crazy… pouring water in my mouth (saliva, actually). Once I said, what the fuck, I’ll bring two casseroles at home. I was having my band rehearsal so I didn’t want to eat in hurry. I wanted to have a special moment, with a glass of wine, candles…I’m joking with the candles. But I like making a special moment with something I love eating. I may say I have a sick cult of food…But that’s not important right now. So, I told my family I brought lasagnas. I said to myself I will eat in the morning.

Next day, I wake up, I go directly to the fridge, and … no lasagnas! What the fuck? Next second I hear my dear husband Oh, honey, you’ll be glad to know we eat until the very last bite, they were great the lasagnas! He knows I’m happy when he loves the food I cook/bring/buy, but the feeling I got! guess what? This time I felt like someone had just hit me… with a hammer… in the head! It’s like planning a hot date, and the other one doesn’t show up! Fuck, double fuck!

So, I remain with the lasagnas cravings. Every day the smell was killing me softly. Usually, we eat after lunch service, so if there is no lasagnas left I can go fuck myself! I had butterflies in my stomach when serving those lasagnas. I was like… horny over the lasagnas! I know, I’m weird with the food… but that is the word… horny!!!

Days went by… I was unfucked by the lasagnas and the desire was making my food hormones go crazy.  Till one day… the miracle was there. A holyday with not so much clients… so there were three lasagnas left… I couldn’t wait to take it home, so I just wanted there… at the table, right now! My own, juicy, greasy, hot lasagnas… my wonderful lasagnas… no foreplay, nothing… I went straight ahead with the first bite. I was hoping firework in my mouth and satisfaction in my stomach… I had one bite, two bites, three bites, like a savage… waiting for my taste papillary to start doing their job… and BOW!!!!…I hit my head so hard like fish jumping on a water bowl asphalt drawing. Nothing special, nothing that could give me that gastronomic orgasm I was expecting for. It’s like receiving a very big present box under the Christmas tree and inside you find only a pair of ordinary socks! That’s the feeling I got!

With the first occasion I got I went on a Chinese restaurant and got myself a healthy plate of noodles with all kinds of Ho Chi Min, Kung Fu, and Jackie Chan chicken and had my classic but sure orgasm!

Conclusion: Things aren’t always as they seem! Just because it’s pretty and shiny, and it smells good, doesn’t mean you hit the good stuff.

And I think that stands quite alright with people too. Or situations. I have high hopes usually. I trust people. I give them credit from the start. I don’t know why, considering today’s society where everybody will fuck you at some point (almost), but I do, I trust people. I want to believe the goodness in us still exists. And many times I’m disappointed. And I haven’t stop believing this. I do believe in humanity… still! I’m thrilled by new people, by new situations, new clothes… and I’ve never known why there or so many times when it turns to be not so good. And normally, then,  I feel bad. Disappointment is not the nicest thing in the world.  A person who seems nice is actually a snake, a situation can have many turn ups, and a dress you have dreamed for a month to have it makes your ass looks as big as Chinatown!

And over the years, I realized that I throw myself ahead without thinking. So, as Celine Dion says, Think Twice, would not be such a bad thing. First impression can fool you. I sometimes get so excited that my neurons are like… drunk. And when you’re drunk you usually call and text your ex… stuff like this that you regret when you wake up.

My point? Let myself a bit more time to know what I’m dealing with. Reflect before act. I think this would be a very mature thing to do. Accepting or not, I’m a young adult and as my best friend says: there are times when you simply cannot blame age, anymore. Wise words, my dear! Plus, reflecting before acting means not so many disappointing stuff, which results in happier life! Ta daa!!!

So, at the beginning of today’s post I’ve stated something: that you can always find time for the thing you love. Proof: The Lasagnas Theory was written entirely during a Saturday at the boutique. I have taken advantage of the Saturday’s quiet profile and I brought my notebook (a real one with sheets) and I wrote down between two clients! /

To be continued…


It’s Wednesday. I never thought this day could ever come. It’s seven in the morning. Even though it’s during school days, I convinced my mother to let me sleep over my best friend. I take a shower, I get dressed and we call a cab. My best friend she’s coming with me. She is always there, no matter what stupid things I do, she always stayed. I really must have done something right in my life to deserve such a friend.

When a get out of cab, it’s like I quit my real life and I walk into someone else’s. I just can’t believe that this is happening to me. And I have the impression that everyone is looking at me as they know what’s happening. I try not to look left or right, but straight ahead. I don’t have many choices. I try to keep my cool and my morals. Everything scares the shit out of me. I don’t know what to expect. I wanted to play the martyr and consider other options, but inside I knew there were too much at stake. I just can’t embarrass everyone. It’s not always about me… There are a lot of people around me that I need to consider, so once I made the decision, there’s no turning back. To be honest, I know I don’t have the courage to stand up for me. I know that I’m a coward. And I’ll always be. No matter how much I try to pretend I’m not, I’ll always be a coward who chooses the easy way.

I was here two days ago, I could still not believe this is really happening. As cliche as it sounds it is like a bad dream you can’t wake up from. I have waited for a miracle to happened, but guess what, in real life, miracles don’t exists. At least, not when you’re in need for one. I was obliged to make a decision, something, anything…

I check for my wallet. I have the money. This thing costs me a lot. Luckily, I’m surrounded by loaded friends. I went to a friend who has a crush on me and I just let it all out! No hidings. Pure truth. He stopped talking to me, and even looking at me, but, after all that…. he put his hand in the drawer and took out the cash. I know I let him down also. I’m gonna pay him back every cent.

I entered the building and from this moment on, I feel… as my mind is splitting from my body. My body becomes a robot. He has to do what he’s programmed to do and I sit quietly next to it and I watch. I try to open my mouth but I’m mute. I have no voice. As I try to get closer to… me, it’s like I’m actually going farther and farther. The feeling is strange. I want to react, but I can’t. I’m deaf, dumb and blind. When I get out of the elevator, there he is. He came. Monday we had a huge fight over this. But he came. He’s not an asshole. A bit selfish (as any scared teenager), but not an asshole. We’re young… we don’t have a clue about what’s expecting us. We take life as it is and sometimes we get hit. I don’t wanna talk to him. I don’t know what to say. He stays quiet also. My girlfriend is always right next to me… She doesn’t know what to say. This is too much for her. I get it. She is already doing the best possible. She is there. So, silence…

The lady we talked to on Monday, sees us and she comes telling me that everything is ready and we can begin. I start having things in my stomach like butterflies, only that they are more like bats or crows. I have to go in. I live them outside. They can’t come in. This time, I’m all alone.

Inside, they tell me I have to take my clothes off. I’m scared and ashamed. But I do it, as I can’t object. The lady, she is nice to me. She talks to me nice and slowly. She takes my hand and she tells me that everything is gonna be alright! She has a sweet voice and her eyes are soft and confident. I don’t have a choice but to believe her. She’s my only support. He, the fat man with very thick glasses, is very grumpy. For him, it’s routine stuff. He’s tired and rood. He talks to me as if I were the last girl on Earth. The lady gives me an anesthetics injection, but she knows I go straight to school so the dose is low. He doesn’t have the time to wait for the anesthetic to do his job (he has other businesses to do), so he starts right away.

His hands are cold. I felt pain from the very beginning. The second he put his finger on, I screamed. He is nothing gentle. He just doesn’t care about me. I’m just another one. He gets deeper and deeper and the pain is unbearable… I scream, I shout…… She is trying to make me shut up, but the pain… the feeling is beyond imaginations. I never thought you could feel so much pain. I want him to stop. I can’t take it any longer. She is holding my hand. She tries to calm me down, she talks to me, but I just want to have this done. It’s like all the bats and the crows are having a battle inside me, eating me alive, chopping my flesh, drinking my blood. They have like machetes and they cut me in little pieces.  Oh, God, forgive me… The whole room is spinning around, I’m drowning in tears and blood, drunk of this overdose of Bloody Mary weird mixed up! She tries to keep me still in order to let him finish as quickly as possible.

Everything inside me is broken. Including my soul. He’s finished. He takes his green bucket full of left overs and he stands out and he leaves me… empty. He’s like a butcher in his white rope… stained with blood. I see his name tag… and I know it’s not the first time when we meet. I know his name, I’ve heard it… it’s a small town… and I know… Fifteen years ago he guided me towards the light, when my mother gave birth to her only child… now, he brought darkness in my world. He takes is money and he leaves the room. The nurse is cleaning me and puts bandages. She tries to defend him… she knows obstetricians can be cruel sometimes…

She helps me get dressed and she tells me I should rest for a couple of hours in a bed before I leave the hospital. It was over. Finally over. The nurse gives permission for my friends to sit with me. My girlfriends says it’s been 15 minutes. I felt like 15 hours. There is no turning back now. All I have left is tears, but they won’t change anything. The pain has only started and it will stay there for a long time as in…forever..

But I’m still alive… I still have blood running through my veins. You would need the biggest artillery to kill me now. If I survived this, I will survive everything. From now on, I don’t give a fuck. I’ll go to hell, anyway, so why bother? What can be worse than deliberately kill your child?


Many times I hear or see bad things that happen to other people. I see the really shitty news on TV or in the newspapers and I think that could never happen to me. When I was a little girl I thought I’m gonna be a virgin until at least eighteen and only slutty girls sleeps with their boyfriends when their fifteen. But things change, circumstances change and life doesn’t turns out the way I wanted. At fifteen I thought you can’t get pregnant by having just one time unprotected sex.It could not happen to me! But it did! All it took was only one time. One time of irresponsible behavior, only one time, one second that changed my entire life life… forever. Looking back, I know that this had speed up my process of maturity and growing up. Life made a live demonstration of how things can get out of hand and there is nothing you could do to… undo. Some actions you have no other choice but to accept them and move on. Once you made a decision, you have to be sure it was the right one. There are situations when you get stuck with the eternal question… what if? Unfortunately, I’ll never have the answer of what could have happened if I had taken the decision to keep the baby? Even though it ran through my mind to run away from home, I knew I didn’t have the balls to do it. Plus, my mind was always at my family. I don’t try to find myself an excuse. I just think at all the factors I had to take in consideration and at that time I thought this was the best thing to do? Would I do the same if I had the chance to change it? I don’t know… I don’t wanna be a hypocrite and say…yes, because I’m not sure…

Then, I thought, life can’t go any harder and there is no pain bigger than that but…

never say never…

I don’t know what was worse… the fact that I just had an abortion at fifteen or that my boyfriend and I couldn’t get through this… after a couple of months we broke up, leaving me with an emptiness I found hard to fill for many years. AT fifteen you can’t imagine that life actually is going to change and other stories will take place… I made a lot of stupid mistakes. I think I was a lot out of line. But I thank life and destiny because I had the opportunity to live those experiences. I do believe in teenage love and I do believe that we can never forget our first love. It is normal. It is your first real lesson of life! Love can also steal our heads and drive to do the most stupid things in the world and act as real assholes. And we always hurt ones we love the most. Those who are not close to us can’t be touched by our mistakes. They don’t care. The loved ones are the front line taking all the bullshit we throw. So, I have learned something that prepared me for the long term: always think… not twice, but ten times before doing something. At some point, life isn’t all about you.

For example, if you took the oath to marry someone, from that moment on you stopped thinking only at yourself. You have to think of your partner because he or she gave you its most valuable and most fragile fortune. Trust. If you brake that trust, you brake him/her. So, think as many times as possible before betraying that trust. Marriage can be tough, many times challenging, and sometimes it can even seem boring and dull, but if you wait for the other to make it all shiny and perfect, that won’t happen. It’s a work done by two. If I learned one think from all these challenging years, is that… it’s all up to me. It’s me who decides how my life will be. It’s me in charge of my own destiny. I make the choices. Not God, not anybody! I have the power to choose. And I choose life! And if I make it work I’ll try help others making it work.

Making mistakes is good! Doesn’t matter if you’re fifteen or fifty. Everyone is making mistakes. The aim is to try not to repeat them… so often:) Mistakes are experiments. The greatest inventors of this world have made things by experimenting all their lives. And one day they got it right. Our life is like finding a great fragrance. For that we start mixing up lots and lots of elements, hoping that one day we’ll be enjoying the victory perfume! Oh, and how many days and nights have we lost and how many bottles have we broken, and the mess we’ve made to arrive here… it was a long way… but today we smell victory!! Today I smell Victory! Because I’ve taken over control over my life. It’s me who decides. I’m the CEO of my life and I can decide which way I turn the boat! I’m the captain: Set sail and fly away ‘cause baby I fuckin’ love this journey!!! And I’m only getting started!

…to the bitter end! /


It is said that a really ugly woman walks in to a room full of people and she feels confident and beautiful, then everybody will see her like that! What’s the logic in this? Well, none… you might say. But I think that’s a subject that has nothing to do with logic… but with energy. Well, I as I posted in my New Year resolutions, I want to lose weight. That’s means I’m no fucking Cindy Crawford. Let’s just say that I’m a bit rubensian (as in Rubens’ paintings with curvy women).

Oh, what a fuck… I’m fat! For today standards!!! That is the true! My BMI is much higher than it should be! But I manage to dress up and fool the eye with at least 10 kg! Some say I’m damn sexy, some would really want to fuck me (especially the middle aged) but unfortunately the truth is I’m a bit plus sized, I get tired easily and I have a history of diabetes in the family so, losing weight would not be such a bad thing and I’m sure I could be more fuckable. Even though I was skinny and all that shit, some said that my charm was lost also along with the kg. Ok, too much bla bla bla, the point is something else.  I’m sure you all have read about self-confidence and its results. Really, I thought that’s the biggest bullshit ever! But guess what? It’s not! Yeah, the shit really works!

As a plus size girl, getting dress every morning can be a real mission impossible 137. There are days when I love myself. I’m dressed 5*, nice and clean makeup, pretty hair, I feel thin and sexy and all they long I hear how beautiful I am and not only from the guys, chicks also. I had once female client. Not a regular, just from time to time. She comes in and she begins to stare at me.

She tells me what she wants, and she continues to stare at me.

So, she stares and she smiles…and she tells me: “You are very beautiful. Honestly! And don’t take it wrong, I’m not gay or anything.” We started to laugh, she thank me, end of story! So, you see, when your confident, when you feel beautiful, even people who surround you start to look at you this way. But, in the same time, there is always the vice versa. You can be buried in gold and silver, have only designers’ clothes on you and wear Jimmy Choo, if you don’t like, others we’ll see it! And even the stylist of all stylist comes to you and dresses you up, if you don’t feel good, you won’t look good. And that’s a fact. I don’t speak from books, or sites, I speak from my own experience. If I feel sexy, everyone around me sees me sexy and I get a lot of compliments, I feel good and I have a great day. Everything starts in the morning with what I’m wearing and how my hair and makeup are done. And I kick ass! If I feel that the jeans I put on make my but look fat, I think of that aspect all day long, I can’t concentrate on my work, I get depressed and I have a shitty day!

Conclusion: look your best day and feel good! How? Be being how you like it! If you like that old pair of jean from high school ( I know it’s impossible to believe that there is anyone who could fit, but trust me, I know couple of persons, so, yeah… not a myth  ), then wear it! Your tastes are not on the same page with today’s trends? Fuck them! Trend is what fits you, not some photoshoped models. There are some years when they say blue it’s the color. I hate blue! What should I do? Wear blue just because is the new trend?? Fuck it! Fuck it all! Stand up! Wear a big pooh on your head if that suits you and you think is the best for you! Think logical… what can go wrong if you let yourself be the way you want it??

Let’s see… family? Most families accept their members as they are, even if sometimes parents have difficulties in accepting piercings or tattoos, but I haven’t seen anybody kicked out because of a tattoo. I see emo type of kids who are living under their parent’s roof. So, even if they don’t like your style, they have to go along. If you’re under 18, they are even obliged…by the law. If you’re older, than you supposed to move out or go away to college. If you still live with your parents, I’m pretty sure you are not the type of a “stand out” style, and in that case that’s a…win-win situation! Good!

Next… friends! Well, with friends I have a really nice story to tell. It is not about weight or shit like that. It’s way deeper! It’s not my story, but the morale of it can be helpful. So, I have a client, she’s a neighbor who comes in every day to have her coffee with her best friends. She’s in her late 60s I believe. A retired painting restoration artist and one of the most optimistic person I have known. I started to discover her story, step by step. During summer she came in every afternoon to chat with me, as her best friend went on a holiday, so, I believe she needed to continue her habit to have a chat with someone every day! I loved listening, she loved talking, so we made a good team! I didn’t know anything about her or her life, but I was intrigued every time she was telling me that she has to go see her son at the hospital. She was telling me that as if I knew the whole story. I was working there for about 2 months, so, knowing the neighborhood was at its beginning. I knew nothing at all… There were times when she was telling me that she’s too tired that day so she’ll go another day. I was thinking what the fuck is wrong with her. When your son is in the hospital, you go every day! You sleep there if you have too. Always in a good move, always with a big smile on her face, no worries at all, so what on earth is happening here? Then, one day she tells me something that I didn’t understand right away. She said that her son helped her clean out her friends! This sentence blurred me even more. What was she saying with this? What could that means?

So, days went by… I was hearing a lot of her childhood stories, like always, in a good mood, and I was still curious about her son. And, suddenly, one day, I found out. Her son was paralyzed practically since he was born and not able to talk, because of a virus he got from the hospital. He stayed with her until teenage years but afterwards it became so difficult for her to take care of him, as she was getting older, he was getting bigger… so she decides to put him in a special institution. And she told me that most of her friends, or better said, so called friends, they couldn’t accept the idea of a handicapped child, so little by little they got farther and farther. She had the support of just a few friends and she still has it. She told me that raising a handicapped child was not what the easiest thing in the world. Being her only child, makes things even worse. I can only imagine the sufferance and the pain she has gone through. And with all that, she tells me that her son was the best thing that could ever happened to her. Why? Because she saw who she could count on, she realized who her friends were. It mustn’t be forgotten the circle she was in to. The artist world can be beautiful, but sometimes hypocrisy is an artist middle name.

And to finish this story, I just found out a couple of days ago the entire history. So, she was never married, she never wanted children (that’s a habit among solitary artists, so I’m not surprised) and at the age of 43 she fell in love with an orchestra chef, she got pregnant and she decides to keep the child for her lover. So, she goes over her principles of not having children for him, even though having a child 43 is quite risky. They don’t get married for the moment waiting the child to be born. And when the love find out his child has a problem, he took off, leaving her alone with a sick child. So, I can easily assume what kind of man he was. Better off without him! But she did not gave up. She could have institutionalized her son, and continue her life. But she hasn’t done that. She kept her moral and her strength and she continued her life with all the stuff in it. I hope someone else find this as interesting as I do.

So, my point was… being you, as you really are can help you clean out your closet of friends. I’m not referring only to style or clothes or your favorite music, I’m talking about everything. I’m talking about not being ashamed of talking to your friends about your dreams, silly as they sound, burst down in tears at the end of a movie without pretending (in a very obvious way) that you got something in your eye, or even admitting that you jerk off in the shower from time to time (even though I think your best friend doesn’t really want to know this particular and intimate detail).

You know, many times we read on line, mostly on Facebook, amazing stories about amazing people. But I, personally, always believed there is some fiction in it. But, the truth is, there are amazing people on this world. And they really do amazing things. And they have the strength to carry on, real strength! We see movies, we read books, we see on line, but that doesn’t touch us as much as when we hear a real story from the person in front of us! I always was a movie passionate, so character’s life seemed so impressive that I thought that could not happen in real life. But you know what? Real life beats all the movies in the world. I have so many stories in my mind right now, that I won’t know what to start with tomorrow. My own stories, my family stories, my friends’ stories, my clients’ stories and above all, the story I live every day.  And this is want I want to write about! Life!

So, I covered up friends and family… that leaves us with society! Yeah… I would like to say now, fuck society, who gives a shit on society? But I’m no hypocrite… As much as I want to ignore society and be a rebel… I can’t… actually, I care more about society than I would like to, but that’s another story and tomorrow is another day! /