The Photos I Wasn’t Going to Post and the Post I Was Never Going to Make

A few weeks back I did a photo shoot with the incredible Marisa Parisella and Mizzz Samsara Brown. I have been posting in this blog and posting all of these photos as part of a psychological process to branch out. I have worked at and written for various magazines since I was 22 but never have I really shared much of  my own thoughts or opinions.

There are a lot of reasons for this. Primarily, that I am a very private person and have a very hard time letting people get close to me because I am an emotional rollercoaster and am in the process of processing a tremendous amount of  trauma and because of it, I go through bouts of depression and have severe anxiety and have moments where I can’t concentrate or disassociate because I can’t cope with the moment.

I have experienced brutal violation, been oppressed in ways I do not care to describe, lived in dire poverty at times and survived being surrounded by a tremendous amount of narcissism, misogyny and alcoholism at different points of my life to the point that I do suffer from Chronic or Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

I am very, very lucky to have very good support and people that understand that I go through bad bouts but that I also do get over them and go through wonderful moments with my children, happiness and cuddles with my ridiculous cat who is like my anxiety helper pet because he lets me cuddle him like a baby and he is fucking ridiculous to watch. He is only about a year old so there are a lot of bat shit moments of him flying around the apartment chasing us or making eye contact and running for cover. I swim, am athletic, weight lift, train as much as I can stand and I love to train. I work as hard as I can work. I am an interviewer and a journalist for an Aboriginal publication for James Bay. I do this while also having an 18 month old at home with me 24/7 because his daycare has been under renovation since Victoria Day weekend in May.

There isn’t a moment of any day that isn’t eaten up by work or house work or trying to find new venues for my writing and photos.

I take the photos every day not just because I am trying to sell myself and my image to the world as the next big whatever but also to help to see myself through a different light. I have spent so much of my life controlled by others that this is the first place and time where I have ever had the chance to say what I think and feel and be free about it and not be afraid that it would land me in a confrontation I couldn’t handle or develop yet another creepy stalker trying to buy my dirty stockings. I am not that kind of girl. For that matter, while I absolutely love lingerie and an absolute junkie for WKD, only the cat and I ever see it unless I publish a photo or one of my kids walks in on me changing. I wear it for me. I wear it because I want it to be me. I wear it because for a moment I can feel beautiful and that is freeing.

Since I gave birth to my second child in January of 2016, I have had the worst uphill battle with my weight and my demons I think I have ever had in my life because this is the first time I have ever really confronted what I have lived through and oh man, there has been some nights of comfort eating and crying, of hating myself and my body, of saying tomorrow, tomorrow I will start that diet. But I am stuck in this fucking spin cycle of being depressed over my size, saying its temporary, buying a medium with the intention of slimming down to fit into it and then never wearing the fucking thing. I am trying so fucking hard but this weight isn’t coming off.

So I am coming to the conclusion that maybe it shouldn’t come off.

Maybe I am ok at a size 10 even though I wore a size four throughout my 20s.

Maybe I am fine at this size and not fat, just 39 and curvy and ok. Maybe I don’t need to be so fucking mean to myself to try and fit into tiny clothes when I really, really, really want to be making those brownies because I am so good at making them and make the world happier when I make things like that  for people.

Maybe I can be ok with me and not be ashamed of my body, even though I am big and have cellulite and a c-section scar and scars from cutting when I was a teenager and going through one of the worst periods of my life and nearly died.

So, yeah, I think I am going to try and be really ok with me because I have survived shit that most people don’t make it through and lived to tell the tale. Well sort of, I am only just beginning to tell the tale but that is what this is for. I am a pinup and an out and out retro addict. I love loving clothes but, for as much as I love vintage lingerie, I also love going to church, albeit the church I go to is the most left-winged, gay friendly, trans friendly, friendly-friendly and amazingly beautiful church in the city. I love my church and I need my church and my faith because it helps me survive.

And this is probably the most revealing thing I have ever put on line. These truths about my life and who I am and how I feel, some of it I have only ever discussed with friends, some of it only in counseling. But I do not want to hide anymore. I am not ashamed and will not be shamed.

IMG_8641IMG_8653IMG_8667IMG_8633IMG_8636I feel free.





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