#(someone needs to write a cookbook for disabled people)

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #360

“we are the ones that wanna play  /  always wanna go, but you never wanna stay”

"Crawling" or "In The End?" I want to say "Crawling," but I really can't be sure. Both are bomb. Is your window open? No. Monsters Inc. or Shrek? Shrek, my man. What did you last hear that made your jaw drop? Jason's mom died. What is the longest shower or bath you have ever taken? I remember as kids, Nicole and I would sometimes play 'til Mom made us finish because the water was cold by then. As an adult, idk about my longest shower. Do you have a preference of chocolate? Yeah, milk chocolate. Is there anyone you’d like to hug right now? Yeah. Could you ever picture someone writing a biography about you? Definitely not. Do you have a clock in your room? No. Do you shut off the computer when you’re done using it? No, I just close it. Do you usually catch a cold during the winter? No. I just about never get sick. Are you a good multi-tasker? NOOOOOOOOOOO. Do you know any deaf people? If so, is it easy or difficult to have conversations with them? No. Is there a door knocker on your front door? No. Were you ever into Pokémon? Bitch I still am. Do you drink a lot of water? Sigh, no. I'm definitely better than I used to be, though; once upon a time, I literally never drank it unless I was extremely hot and dehydrated. Nowadays, it's usually after I finish my soda for the day that I then only drink water, normally around one full tall cup of it. Do you like fireworks? They're beautiful, but I'm personally against them out of respect for veterans suffering from PTSD as well as animals, because I'm not exactly interested in traumatizing them, either. Is respect given or earned with you? It's given, the way I think it should be. Are you “in the closet” about anything? No. Are you missing any teeth? No. Do you like scrapbooking? I've never gotten into it and am not really interested in doing so. What was or will be your first tattoo? It's a semicolon butterfly on my right wrist. Sometimes I've thought about getting it covered with a cooler design but the same concept; it was literally from Google, and I'm very much not into "sharing" tattoo designs with probably thousands of other people. But, I still think it really is cute, and it's just very special to me as my first, so idk. Do you have any tattoos dedicated to someone special? I have one written in Sara's handwriting inside a heart, and my "ohana" tattoo that I am 100% getting covered was dedicated to my former best friend Colleen. I've talked before about why "ohana" has never really resonated with me, and I just don't like it anymore at all. Thank God it's small. Do you like ghost stories? Oh HELL yeah, lay 'em on me. What was your favorite movie as a kid? The Lion King. Some things never change, ha. Do you own a lot of cookbooks? Mom has looooots, but never uses any. I think her mom gave them to her, so she just keeps 'em. What’s your father’s handwriting like? It looks like every other man's handwriting I've ever seen lol. All the letters are capitalized. Did you wash your hair last time you showered? I wash my hair every time I shower. I have to with it naturally being so oily. What does your shampoo smell like? Coconut. Do you listen to Guns N' Roses? Not a lot, but yeah. They've got some bangers. I actually want "Sweet Child O' Mine" to be the father/daughter dance at my wedding. Have you ever been a bridesmaid? Yeah, at my sister's wedding. What was the last video game that you beat? I replayed Silent Hill 2 a long time ago. Have you ever hyperventilated? Yep. Do you talk in your sleep? I scream in my sleep. Nightmares/terrors are a blast. Whose house did you last sleep over? Sara's. Have you ever been cut by scissors? No. Do you like peaches? It's odd, I like canned sliced peaches, but the actual, full fruit, I don't. I love peach flavored juice, though. Do you enjoy being surrounded by neighbors, or would you be more comfortable someplace secluded? Take me back to the middle of nowhere, please. I'm really not digging being in an actual neighborhood. Is there any sibling rivalry between you and your siblings, if you have any? Not at all. Do you usually root for the good guys or the bad guys? Ha, the baddies... Are you allowed to have pets at your house? We're allowed to have what we currently own and then maybe one dog if Mom finally finds one. Have you ever lived in a trailer park? No. Is there anyone that you know through the internet that you would feel comfortable meeting in person? There's quite a few, actually! Have you ever had a dream involving characters from a game/movie/television show? Yeah. What’s the last thing you wrote down? My signature, I think? Do you remember any phone numbers from years ago that now belong to someone you don’t know? No. Have you ever found something strange in your mailbox? No. Who was the last relative that came to visit you? My half-sister and her husband. Does your bedding all match? Not currently. Are you more comfortable with having short hair or long hair? SHORT. Are you interested in fantasy movies/shows? That's my preference. Have you ever gone whale-watching? No, but that'd be dope. What is something that you have a large amount of? Meerkat plushies. Who is it that you’re in love with? Nobody. Have you ever gotten love and infatuation confused? No. Do you have a steady income? No. Do you take your medications in the morning or at night? Both. Have you ever bought a YouTuber’s merch? No, I wish. :( Do you think oatmeal tastes better when made with water or milk? MILK. I don't eat it with water. When was the last time you ran into someone that you didn’t want to see? Idk. Have you ever tried vlogging, and if yes, did you stick with it? Noooo, I'm completely disinterested in doing that myself. If you go to church, what is your favorite thing about it? I don't go. Even as a kid when Mom made me, I hated it. ^and what is your least favorite thing about it? N/A What do you do for exercise? I don't. .-. I want a pool SO badly to swim and strengthen my legs without having to worry about sweating or collapsing, though. Mom says we don't have space, but we definitely do. Not a lot, but enough. Do you have a birthmark? If yes, what color is it? Yeah, it's just a bit darker than the rest of my skin. Do you need to lose weight? Yes. My sister, Mom, and I very recently started a Weight Watchers subscription and we're all working our asses off to stick to it. Ash has already lost like, 12 pounds (she started before Mom and me), so I'm kinda hopeful. Have you ever had a cat? Growing up, after we took in a stray female, we ended up with a fucking empire of cats, literally around three dozen, I'd say. They were all outdoors, too, and not fixed because we couldn't afford it, so tomcats would come around and, y'know, make matters worse. Eventually, animal control took them all and I was DEVASTATED, but looking back, I understand it was necessary. Anyway, I have one cat now. Indoors and fixed and the prince of my world, haha. Have you ever had a dog? We've had a few. I was born with my dad having a collie named Trigger, but I don't remember her at all; she died of old age I believe when I was very young. Then we briefly had a pup named Angel, but she died due to that disease some puppies just have. We didn't get another dog until Teddy, who was my Christmas present, and he was put to sleep only last year, rest my baby's soul. We also had Dale, Cali, Delilah, and Bentley. Have you ever any other kind of animal? A LOT. I'm probably going to forget some, but we've had hamsters, rats, snakes, fish, a turtle, two lizards, gerbils, guinea pigs... just a lot. Animals have always been very important in my life. Have you ever had a pet rock? HA, yeah. I didn't take it seriously at all, but I had one. When was the last time you painted something? Not since my Painting course in my final college attempt. Do you have any disabilities? Not in the traditional sense, no. My social anxiety though is at such a severity that it majorly infringes upon my ability to do a LOT of things, though. What are five of your favorite stores at the mall? I couldn't name five. Just Hot Topic and Spencer's, really. What season do you want to get married in? AUTUMN. The actual dream situation would be to get married in the snow in a black dress, like can you IMAGINE the pictures, but realistically, it'd be in the fall to avoid the biting cold. Has anyone ever spread lies about you? Yeah. Anything special planned for today? Nope. Blue or green? Blue. How much older/younger than you was the person you lost your virginity to? He's two years older than me. Do you still care for that person? Very much. Can you completely annihilate the first Mario game in less than an hour? I haven't even played the first game. I've never really been into the games to begin with. Did you make it all the way through the Oregon Trail game? Yes! I was OOOOOBSESSEEEEEED as a kid. I would usually play it after school when my mom was an assistant teacher and was finishing up her work for the day. Have you ever contemplated climbing a water tower? Uh, no. Those kind of people got some wanderlust levels that I ain't got, haha. If you have a Facebook, when was the last time you changed your profile picture? It's been a few months. Would you ever marry someone who was lower class? Um, yes? You can deny it all you want, but answering "no" is pretty much the same as saying you'd marry for money. Is there a guy you wish you hadn’t let slip away? ugh Which do you prefer: English or math? English, by light years. Who is a singer that has given you chills? David Draiman's voice in the Disturbed cover of "Sound of Silence" is fucking haunting. Greatest cover of all time. Do you watch America’s Got Talent? I did when Sharon was a judge. Do you think you could win America’s Got Talent? Hell no. What act would you perform in a talent show? uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Have you ever practiced yoga? Yes. I used to be BANGIN at it. What is your favorite thing to buy at the Farmer’s Market? Fruit! Do you get carsickness? No. What color is the rim of your full-length mirror? Black. What is your state’s bird (if you live in the US)? Cardinal. Which style of wedding dress is your favorite? I'm a sucker for ballgown dresses. Do you enjoy editing videos? I used to love it, for many many years. Now, I just don't have the dedication or motivation to. Do you enjoy editing photos? Yes. If you gave birth, do you think you would want it filmed? Um, absolutely not. I would have NO desire to look back on me shrieking my lungs out and essentially dying. I handle abdominal pain very poorly, so I've got a goooood feeling that if I actually wanted to have kids, I'd be that woman screeching like a banshee.

[mishafletcher]

hey, so, i feel weird promoting this, but you know how the collective we of tumblr are always like, someone should write a cookbook that’s actually easy? i did the thing, just in time for gross summer heat/seasonal affective disorder, depending on the hemisphere, to kick in.

Cooking is terrible, and food is often a massive pain in the ass. Eating is sometimes ok, sometimes a giant drag, and somehow still a thing that you have to do multiple times a day, which seems enormously unfair. This book isn’t going to teach you how to cook, or turn you into the kind of person who hosts effortless dinner parties, or make you more attractive and popular and interesting. At best, it’s going to make it slightly more likely that you manage to eat something in the ten minutes between walking in the door and falling into the sweet embrace of the internet. I’m not joking—a lot of this can be done, start to finish, in ten to fifteen minutes. I resent thirty-minute meals because it feels like about twenty-eight minutes too long to spend on feeding myself. If you’re excited to get home from work and spend an hour cooking dinner, this isn’t the book for you. If you really value authenticity, this isn’t the book for you. If you literally only eat three foods and you’re happy like that, this isn’t the book for you. If you, like me, are tired and depressed and just need to get some food into your face once in a while, this is definitely the book for you. You should buy it. Maybe it’ll help.

anyhow, you can buy it for $5 on amazon (for kindle files) and gumroad (for a pdf and epub), and any money earned goes towards things like paying my rent and buying groceries.

i’m disabled and mentally ill and a single parent, and i’d love to be excited about food, but most of the time, it’s just an inconvenient thing i gotta do to stay alive. i wrote this for people who’re kinda like me. i hope that maybe it helps someone.

[update, 6 april 2018: a couple people have asked if it’s useful for vegetarians, and the answer is yes. click here for more info.]

[survivingunderwater]

How Chronic Pain Taught me to Breathe Underwater

I’ve wanted to share my story for a long time. It is a small snapshot of my life with a pelvic nerve disorder that causes severe, debilitating chronic pain and has no known pathology or treatment. I realize this a long post, but you know what? People write 509 page  cookbooks about the types of flour to use baking. 

This story is not sexy, but it is real. 

It would mean the world to me if you could share this, so that together, we can promote awareness for a silent condition, and remind ourselves to never judge a book by its cover.

Read time: 20 minutes

------

For the last 13 years of my life, I have been held under the water and told to learn how to breathe.

Ten years ago, I learned that I would never have sex, and that an intimate life would be nearly impossible.

I learned that my condition would gradually worsen. I learned that over time, I would not be able to tolerate the light touch of clothing, that I’d lose control of my bladder, and that something as simple as sitting down would become unbearable. I was told that I likely couldn’t have children, a family, or even leave the house for long periods of time without complications. Physical activity would be cumbersome. I was told to give up the activities that I loved so fondly because it was further damaging a condition that was irreversible. Doctors foreshadowed that in the coming years, my nerves would become so sensitive that my skin would feel like fire. As the pain worsened, I would likely need to take antidepressants and seizure medications to pacify the inflamed nerve endings….I would be relegated to a life of loose clothes, disability permits, abstinence, and incontinence.

I learned that at best, I would live a life muted by medication. I learned that at worst, I would live a life bound to a bed, consumed by chronic pain. I could kiss goodbye to ever knowing intimate love in the way most people like to characterize it.

For a long time, I didn't even know I had a condition. I just knew that something in my body was wrong.

When I was 11 years old, I reported experiencing vaginal pain for the first time.

When I was 13, I went to a gynecologist, who told me that the pain was entirely in my head. Thinking that unregulated hormones were the source of my complaints, I was prescribed the birth control pill. I didn’t think much about it, and I assumed this would solve my problem.

When I was 15, I entered into my first real relationship. I was confused why I felt sharp, stabbing vaginal pains from something as simple as light touch, so I returned to the gynecologist. I thought this was supposed to be a pleasurable part of life. I was also confused as to why - unlike my friends - tampons were impossible to use. I asked them to examine me externally only, and we agreed that we would talk through any “next steps.”

Without warning, the gynecologist entered my vagina. The pain was so excruciating that I suddenly couldn’t see or hear. I started shaking uncontrollably and fainted. When I opened my eyes again, I screamed and pleaded for her to stop. I’ll always remember the look on her face as she rolled her eyes… as if I were overreacting, that I was weak, that I was pathetic. Was the pain actually in my head? When she stopped her exam, I could not walk.

Over the next year, I saw a number of gynecologists -- each with a different opinion on the cause of my pain.

Some said it was an injury from years of horseback riding. Some said it was a hormonal imbalance. Others said it was an unexplained genetic anomaly. Some doctors said it was possible that this was the aftermath of repressed sexual abuse. This terrified me. My mind ran wild as I imagined the possibility of my brain and body repressing a trauma too young for me to remember, and to manifest in the present as crippling nerve pain. I never recalled any abuse.

But most doctors, however, kept telling me I was imagining my pain. Their rationale: I was attempting to experience pleasure at too young of an age, and my “paranoia” about sex created muscular pain.

There was one commonality among all of my diagnoses. Whatever I was experiencing, all doctors agreed that there was no known pathology… and no cure.

When I was 16, I had a glimmer of hope. In hopes of solving the problem, doctors put me through a surgery they assumed would help. I spent a month bleeding and recovering, only to realize too late that the surgery to fix my pain had only made it worse. At this point, my nerves were damaged so badly that my pain receptors were always turned "on." Cutting through my damaged tissues and surgically stitching them back together only exacerbated the problem.

I learned that sometimes, healthcare professionals don’t know what they are doing, and adults aren’t always “right.” I became my own health advocate.

At 17, I had a breakthrough. My mom and I found a new team of doctors who validated that in fact, the pain was not in my head. It was not a hormonal imbalance, and it was not repressed sexual abuse. I was diagnosed with vulvar vestibulitis, and I would later learn I had one of the worst forms.

This is a condition where nerve endings in the vulva - and specifically, pain receptors - are permanently “turned on”. I finally felt relief knowing that my pain was validated. As a result, I thought I had a clear pathway for treatment.

I started pelvic floor physical therapy to help relax the muscles around the nerves. I was prescribed antidepressants and seizure medicine, which I refused to take. I occasionally took pain medications.

I quickly realized how women’s issues were severely undermined in healthcare. Insurance only covered a portion of my medical bills. My mother and I had to submit a detailed grievance to the Department of Public Health in order to overturn my insurance denial for continued PT, since our insurance had cancelled my coverage after a small number of sessions. Our letter was luckily a success, and a small victory amidst this journey.

I started to accept my position in life. I began practicing yoga and realized the importance of presence and perspective. I decided that maybe a life with no tampons, no sex, and no kids wasn’t so bad. 

Everyone who knew me, knew me as a happy young woman. 

I was starting to breathe underwater.

When I was 18, I realized that intimacy would continue to be a traumatic and nauseating experience, and that sex would absolutely never be part of my life.

I realized that there were unempathetic people who would try to make me feel worthless about this. 

I also learned there were people who would love me no matter what, and that who I surrounded myself with was entirely my own choice.

When I was 19, I developed anxiety from having so much constant pain, not knowing where or why it was happening, never knowing when my pain would flare, unable to escape it for weeks at a time.

For unknown reasons, I also started losing feelings in my arms and legs, which became fully numb. This lasted for a full year, and I stopped exercising. The loss of feeling scared me so much that my anxiety increased. The anxiety led to intense panic attacks, which led to more panic attacks because I was so afraid of having another panic attack (LOL). I personally thought this was brilliant that my mind went so far. I later talked to a therapist who said that I had developed this thing called panic disorder.

Eventually, I accepted this part of my life, and I realized that those who struggle with mental health truly know what it is like to suffer in silence.

When I was 20, I spent 5 months studying abroad throughout Africa and Asia, staying with local families and learning about the beauty of different cultures. Amidst the highs, I also saw starving adults breast feeding off of each other and dead bodies in the road. I met women who had experienced female genital mutilation, who almost bled to death from having their labia and clitoris mutilated by a dirty blade on the floor of a hut. The experience was so raw and unfiltered that I felt ashamed of myself for ever complaining about my pain.

I realized I had so much left to learn in life.

But with each step forward in self discovery, I felt like I took two steps back in my physical progress.

By 21, my pain took a drastic turn for the worse. I was unable to put on clothing. I threw away all of my jeans. On good days, I wore sweatpants and loose leggings. On bad days, I didn’t leave my bed, and I sat there all day with an ice pack, terrified of peeing. I threw out all of my underwear, as I was no longer able to tolerate the touch of it against my skin, which now felt like fire in an open wound.

Whenever I felt “turned on” by someone, I experienced searing clitoral and vaginal pain. It felt like an unfair punishment, and I was unsuccessful at suppressing my feelings. Women are supposed to feel strong in this sector of life, but I felt beyond traumatized. As I continued to see friends enter into relationships and have healthy, pleasurable sex lives, I could not even wipe myself after the using the bathroom due to excruciating, burning vaginal pain that never gave me a break.

By 22, I obtained a disability permit that enabled me to finish college by completing most of my coursework from my bed. On the few days that I went to class, I stood up in the back of the room, since I was in too much pain to sit.

That year, I was also diagnosed with interstitial cystitis, which causes bladder urgency and enhanced clitoral and urethral pain. The combination with vulvar vestibulitis became unbearable.

I did what anyone else in my position would do.  I found peace through dry, and often dark, humor.  

I remember my senior year as the year that I sat with an icepack on my vagina, taught myself my coursework, and barely graduated college. I also remember moments of roaring laughter. My college roommate and I made endless jokes about my vagina. We spoke in thick Southern accents and mocked college boys’ sexist comments. My roommate even dressed commando in baggy pants to make me feel less alone. We blasted Lily Allen songs, named all the cockroaches in our apartment, and made a hysterical music video about a territorial wild cat that we spontaneously adopted.

I learned that laughing at yourself adds years to your life.    On my way home from college, I was patted down at the airport. I told the TSA agent that I had vaginal pain, and that if she passed over that area, she could not use much pressure. She told me if she could not touch me, then I could not fly. I asked her to be considerate of my condition. She was not. I was too embarrassed to tell her what she had done. The pain was so unbearable that I cried the whole plane ride home and had another flare up that lasted for weeks.

By 23, I was living at home with my parents. I stopped working, and was sedentary for a full year. I sought help from doctors who didn’t have answers. I couldn't sleep through the night for months. I left the house occasionally for restorative yoga, but I could not do much, and walking and wearing clothing was completely unbearable. To this day, I credit those yoga teachers, my hilarious and supportive brother, and Always Sunny in Philadelphia for why I am still alive. For someone as active as me, being sedentary and in pain was the worst form of torture, and I didn't know if it would ever end. I was told it never would.

I spent most of my time sitting in a chair or in my bed with an ice pack. Once per day, I walked like a penguin up and down my parent’s driveway to try to exercise, but it was painful and all I felt was embarrassment.

This is where, for the first time, I began to feel truly hopeless.

Every aspect of my life was controlled by a condition to which I could not control.

Every time I started to breathe underwater, I felt I was pushed further into darkness with even more limitations.

I was pushed to my limit, and I hit the bottom very hard. 

I often thought about ending my life. I thought about how this would happen, and the aftermath. I begged to have all painful parts of my body surgically removed. I felt searing guilt as my parents uprooted their lives to dig thousands of dollars into their savings to afford my medical bills, treatments, surgical consults, gynecology appointments, and physical therapy.

...But even at the bottom, I found slow inhales and exhales.

I once again realized the only way to change my suffering was to change my outlook. I had and still have pain, but I am not identified as my pain. I decided to pour my energy into seeking love and adventure through creative, dynamic ways. My pain gave me a strength and fearlessness that was and is indescribable.

I wanted to feel all emotions and forms of life whether they were good or bad. I was completely unafraid of death.

I wanted to learn who I was inside and out and give love and beauty to everyone I met on a deeper level than sex and what society perceives as “intimacy.” 

I wanted to learn how to connect, truly connect, with people and express my sexuality in open and loving ways.

I wanted to learn secrets from people around the world in the worst conditions. I found that these people were (as stereotypical as it sounds) the happiest people,

 and that limitation is the biggest factor in creativity, invention, and success.

I would later proudly say that I too was more than happy, I was living in ecstasy. My entire life was filtered in technicolor.

My life is painful, but it is rich.

I invented clothing and found clothing that I could tolerate and still leave the house in. I found the right numbing creams and formulas to tolerate my day. I experimented with a million different diets. I went to PT regularly again and specialists who started a magnetic treatment that worked wonders, even if temporarily. I did acupuncture and regular pain management therapy. I obtained a medical marijuana card, and the CBD helped relax my muscles and loosen tension around the nerves. (Then one day, I accidentally overdosed on gummy bears, and I heard the sounds my brain makes when it has thoughts. I sat on the couch spitting out paleo bread, as one does, and I forgot when to stop chewing and start swallowing my food. Of everything I had survived until that point, this was the night that I was convinced I would die, and unfortunately at the hands of a gummy bear. Though marijuana is a miracle for some, I decided it was not my thing. I never did it again).

I used the money I had saved from working in college and teaching yoga to travel on a pathetic budget. I went skydiving and bungee jumping. I trekked up a volcano in 100 degree heat in Nicaragua, in baggy clothes, one step at a time, even though it killed me and I had a flare up afterwards. I traveled through West Africa, Southeast Asia, and Latin America. I couchsurfed for months in Europe, off of several hundred dollars. I got stuck in horrible situations where I was the only person who could get myself out, and I did. I was stalked by a man who screamed what he wanted to do with me when he finally found me alone. I was harassed. I was lost at night in the woods with nothing but a motorbike and a dead phone in the middle of Myanmar.

I slept on floors and couches and had days where I had to do absolutely nothing and was stalled by my condition. 

I met travelers who flew through monuments at record speed with massive cameras, sleeping with every local or nomad they met. But mostly, I met travelers like me, slowly making their way through untouched corners of the world. I met people who experienced unfortunate or crazy events and illnesses very young in life, and who also found a richness through cultivating perspective by traveling with a tiny backpack and a questionable budget.

I had days that were beautiful.

I learned that everything in life is temporary. Everything. 

When I was in the Czech Republic, I had the most romantic evening with a sexy Colombian man in the old square in Prague. We went drink for drink with fresh, minty mojitos and bounced life stories off of each other in a rowdy bar, where the power went out three times. We stayed out until 5 in the morning, stumbling across the Charles Bridge together, making out at every brick wall. The connection and pulse was palpable. He introduced me to something that would later change my life: salsa dancing. He wrote and recorded a song for me and sent it to me later. I fondly replay our brief and special night together in my head.

Despite my condition, I dated frequently, though I’ve never felt compelled to be in a relationship, because I don’t really feel like anyone truly understands me, and I have always been very content and happy “on my own.” A life free of modern day relationships has been anything but lonely, anything but void, and NOT AT ALL what the doctors told me my life would be living with this condition.

Maybe I cannot have sex, or experience stereotypical pleasure, but I truly believe that my sex life is one of confidence, depth, and beauty. I learned how to confidently communicate about sex and express my likes and dislikes, what I could and could not do, when I was as young as 16. I learned how to be creative in bed. I learned that there are infinite ways to be intimate with someone. I learned that intimacy must always encompass mindful intention and passion, whether it is for two hours, a one night stand, or a lifetime. I learned that “sex” without intention is scary, dull, and abusive. I learned that many men don’t know what to do if you eliminate stereotypical sex from the equation, and they think good sex embodies very minimal foreplay. I learned that this is so boring that I would rather answer my work emails.

I dated and hooked up with men. I dated and hooked up with women. I found myself attracted to people younger than me and twice my age. I quickly learned that I loved the vibe and core of who someone is more than anything else. Superficial things didn’t influence my attraction and desire for someone. I craved (and still crave) people who can feel life deeply, who can understand me and I can understand him or her. I learned that humor, empathy, understanding, and most importantly, sarcasm, were absolutely irresistible. I learned that I have a weakness for accents on men, asses on women, and all French people in general.

When I was 24, I found ways to further manage my pain: clothes that were even more tolerable and made me feel beautiful (not these massive sweatpants anymore!), creams that managed my pain, soaps that didn’t irritate me, a diet that was helpful, regular alternative treatments, maya abdominal therapy for my interstitial cystitis, and a solid physical therapy regimen. My pain was not improving, but it wasn’t getting worse. I moved to San Francisco with my brother, and started a steady job.

I also decided to let go of my fear of physical activity. I would take it easy and try something aside from light yoga and penguin hobbling on my parent’s driveway. The thing that I tried was salsa dancing.

I am not going to get into details about the number of items that need to “go right” for me to make it through a night of dancing without pain. 

Everything from my clothing choice, creams, stretches, and drink choice must all fall in the perfect equation. There are many nights where I reluctantly skip.

That being said, I wholeheartedly believe that when I found dancing, I found the love of my life.

Salsa gave me a space where I could act out my sexuality in safety. Where I could connect and love my partner in that moment, feel the music deep in my bones, and completely let go. As a follow, I could stop thinking entirely and put my brain on pause. I re-learned to trust men after many bad experiences and violations. I learned to surrender my body and soul on the dance floor, and I never cared what I looked like.

Salsa is a space reserved for old souls. There are no phones to use as a crutch, no photos to take so you can post on social media about the “great time” you’re all having. It is a space where I could truly be a woman, and have an incredibly intimate dance with someone 6 songs in a row and know that our love and connection stays on the dance floor only (most of the time. LOL.). Salsa is in every sense my therapy. It’s my drive to want to heal my body, so that I can dance every day of the week and not have all these ridiculous limitations.

I often cry of happiness when I come home from a night of dancing. 

After all of these years of pain, I am so grateful to move my legs that are sometimes numb! I am so grateful to connect with my partner. I am so grateful to feel sensual, beautiful, and loved. It changed my life, and the gratitude never ends.

Some realities that are important:

1. Pain in an area of the body that is intended to evoke immense pleasure is a constant mental test. It makes other mountains feel like small hills. Nothing compares. Not my worst fever from contracting chikungunya in Haiti. Not my worst breakup. Not the time I was evicted from my apartment, or punched in the face by a homeless man. Or the 3 times I have totaled vehicles in car accidents. Not the times I have disclosed my condition to men and, without apology, acknowledgement of my pain, or empathy, they have expressed that they are no longer interested and that they are “sorely disappointed” that they didn’t receive what they were expecting. The frequency of these interactions has made me briefly lose faith in humanity, though it has never torn at my confidence. Not surprisingly, I never experienced this reaction from women. I was only met with compassion.

2. This condition has made me realize that feminism is more important now than ever before, and I have never been so proud to be a woman.

When I was in middle school, boys teased me and told me that my acne made it look like I had bruises all over my face.

 Now I am older and that is gone, and instead I am treated as a walking sex object. When do women win? I have been grabbed, harassed, threatened, abused, and stalked.

I seldom trust being alone with a man.

Many male doctors told me the pain was entirely in my head from the start. I was told to “toughen” up. I do wonder what would have happened if a man had reported the same levels of penile pain, and if his complaints would have been taken seriously the first time.

I am a woman and am therefore expected to be a sweetheart by day and a freak in the sheets by night. I am not going to feel any less feminine or sensual because I cannot have stereotypical sex.  I am so proud to be a woman and to fight for other women in a world that still roots so strongly against us, especially in healthcare. So here I am, telling my story, in hopes that it will encourage the other “Allys” out there to tell their stories, too. “When sleeping women wake, mountains move.”  

3. I often fight stereotypes of who people “think I am” versus who I actually am. Everyone struggles with this, pain or no pain. It is one of the hurdles of being human.

I am often passed off as a blonde woman who is easily impressed, bubbly, and spacy. This feedback is quite upsetting. I can’t escape my pain. Any conversation I have with someone takes up half my brain, while the other half is trying to shift my weight or body in a way that could potentially result in less pain. This does not translate to gullible, insecure blonde person.

This translates to a strong woman who wakes up every day to the biggest fight of her life.

4. Listening to modern day complaints is exhausting. 

Complaining to me about your sex life is like me complaining about my shoes to a man who has no feet.

It is true that everyone experiences various levels of life, but it is also true that people should be mindful about what they choose to complain about or dwell on. Life is short.

5. This story is not meant to glorify pain. I have had more “low quality” days than “high quality” days in my life, and this reality sometimes kills me.  I don’t want to be in pain anymore. I don’t want to experience throbbing clitoral pain if my leggings accidentally touch my skin. Three months ago, my entire body went numb and I could not feel my legs for three weeks. I stopped dancing and worked from home a lot. I took painkillers and eventually my feeling came back.

Last week, I had so much pain that I vomited, then fainted and hit my head on the mirror. My roommate found me on the floor when she heard the thud.

This is not a normal life, but it is a life that has taught me more about living than most.

6. This isn’t a romantic story. This is not a sexy story. But it’s a real one. When I look at my life, sometimes I wonder why I am so happy all the time. It is almost annoying, and people have said that I annoy them because of how much I smile. I technically have so much to be upset about, if that’s how you want to look at it. People pity me and say that I deserve to wake up and put on a pair of underwear, and walk around without feeling stabbing pain. That I deserve to have sex and make little mini Allys one day.

They say that I deserve to experience the full spectrum of life, that I deserve love and happiness.

What is so ironic is that I more than experience the full spectrum of life, and in a way, I often pity the people who tell me this, because I feel they are missing out on so much in this world. My entire life is filtered in technicolor.

When I am happy, I am euphorically happy, perhaps because of my journey with pain.

Maybe a bizarre part of me realizes: the only way to feel ecstasy from putting two feet on the ground and standing up in the morning, is to to be sedentary with numb legs for a full year.

What if the only way to uncontrollably cry of gratitude from something as simple as 3 minutes on the dance floor is if you know what it is like to not walk at all?

What if the only way to feel complete peace is to have 7 panic attacks in a row until you end up in the ER?

What if the only reason I feel so alive is because of the year I fantasized about gluing the pedal to the floor of my car and driving straight into a wall until there were silence?

What if the steamiest sex of your life isn't through touch.

What if the piercingly deep intimacy, romance, and connections I've had with others isn't possible for people without pain?

What if breathing air feels lifeless?

I was never told that 13 years under water is where you learn, feel, and evolve into what it means to be a loving, passionate, and soulful human being.

I was never told that the darkest part of the ocean is where you learn to take your deepest breath.

---- **More text below

We live in an ironic world. People often know more about the Kardashians than they do about Malala Yousafzai. They celebrate and photograph weddings and their newborn children, but you never see professional photos taken of those who survive terminal illnesses. Who determines what is “celebration” worthy?

I want to celebrate people in the middle of the fight, not the people at the end.

I have always wanted to honor my journey with pain: my sexuality, trauma, freedom. My tenacity and power in being a woman. I’ve never had professional photos taken until one month ago, when Andrea Padilla fulfilled a dream of celebrating this journey through a boudoir and nude photoshoot. I did this photoshoot to show the rawest form of who I am in this moment of my life (we had our tricks so that I could tolerate the pain from lingerie ;)). I did not smile. This is about honoring courage, and carrying this strength with me into 2018. If I were hobbling like a penguin two years ago and spent most of my time in bed, and today I am dancing... who knows? I don’t know what can happen in the future. My life can turn in any direction at any point, and I am here to soak up each moment and learn with every step. 

My dream now is to dance salsa on the world cup stage. Life is unpredictable, but it is also boundless.

THANK YOU:

To my amazing brother, Robby: Thank you for keeping me afloat, making me laugh, saving my life and then adding years to it, spending months sleeping on the couch to take care of me, and being there for me through thick and thin, even when I gave you so many reasons not to be there. I love you more than anything in the entire world and would be nowhere near who I am today without you. You make me a better person every day and laughing together makes life beyond worth living.

Sue: Thank you so much for your prairie dog driving skills to take me to the doctors, even though you took out a tree one time and we’ve had to leave many notes on people’s doors from destroying their bumpers in the hospital parking lot with your Denali. Thanks for never giving up on me. Thanks for your endless excel sheets documenting my symptoms and calling doctors all over the world. Thanks for putting your life on hold for me. Thanks for being one of the few people who believed me from the beginning. I would never have been properly diagnosed without you.    

Dad: Thank you for sharing many poisonous moscow mules with me when in a crisis. Thank you for believing me, and for believing IN me. Thanks for listening to my TMI stories. There is no way I can ever repay you for the way you have put my health first, but I hope to make you proud.

[foxandfiction]

so i havent written anything in a LONG while (since 2017?) for a very good reason: i was going to school fulltime. good news: i finished! i finished in december and i walk at graduation in may. hopefully i learned something about writing. i enjoyed myself, at the very least, and i was grateful to have made myself write frequently about literature, even if it wasn't the way and type of lit we were looking at in school. i don't know that i will come back to this frequently. after all, it's february and i've been free from the school grind for months now. but sometimes a book sparks an idea in me that i have to write out. so here we go. niko rides again.

truly devious / the hand on the wall by maureen johnson.

so here is a thing: i like maureen johnson enough as a person that i will usually read her books, despite the fact that she writes mostly YA hetero romances, and infrequently anything fantasy and never sci fi. when she announced she was writing a mystery i was interested because i do like mysteries but the genre as a whole is often difficult to enjoy for other reasons. and so, expecting it to be a stand alone novel because i am a fool and an imbecile, i picked up truly devious.

this isn't to say it is a bad book. it's just 3 books.

a brief summary: stevie bell has just been accepted into ellingham academy, a prestigious private boarding school with a checkered past. the site of several famous kidnappings and murders of the ellingham family that established it, the school is known for inviting brilliant students with very specific passions to study there. stevie is invited because of her expertise on the ellingham case-- her goal being to solve the murder while she attends the school. of course, when accidental deaths seem to be more than accidents, the case may not be solely located in the past.

intriguing.

the case itself is interesting and fun, relying on the weird school and its strange inhabitants, both presently and in the past, their penchant for secret passages and riddles, to propel the mystery forward. yet the mystery is not the sole content of any story. recently i caught up on the magnus archives (if you like audio horror.... please give it a go) and in the q&a after the most recent season they were discussing constructing a mystery. horror, of course, must have some sort of mystery. as they discussed character arcs coming to head, they brought up how such a thing can sacrifice the mystery-- poirot's character development consists of not knowing who killed someone to knowing who did it.

this is not to say that truly devious sacrifices some mystery or some character development for the sake of the other. rather, truly devious operates as two different stories with the same cast, contained in one trilogy. stevie solves the mystery. and stevie gains friends and a romance.

i prefer the mystery.

the mystery, at the very least, does not stand on weak willed politics.

there's two main issues here, in my opinion. one is the issue of representation while still wanting to write a straight romance between two white teenagers. the second is that johnson wrote this during the results of the 2016 american election and its awful aftermath. these are understandable-- at least the latter one-- because no one worthwhile has been positively impacted by this. there are of course several problems with this. the first is what i'll call representation lite. "representation" or "diversity" is something in these cases that are dolled out to a larger cast of characters so there is a variety, instead of any real issues impacting a singular person. instead of any real depth these "representations" get to have, the audience can see them and, if they want, feel included. or they can ignore them. the audience in the know can pick up on them -- stevie's best friend janelle is a lesbian, and janelle's partner is nonbinary. there is a minor character with a physical disability. stevie herself suffers from an anxiety disorder, which is the only one of these things that is talked about beyond mentioning for mentioning's sake.

one thing that struck me as a very sour note occurs in a chapter from the perspective of a witness to the original crime, a friend of albert ellingham, founder of the school. leonard holmes nair (subtlety is for adult novels), talking to some students about how he knows dorothy parker, says, verbatim, "i am a friend of dorothy's".

now. several things. i didn't need this line to know he was gay. you nailed that one maureen, without having to discuss sexuality at all. to a modern audience, that's what this line specifies. in certain contexts it would be amusing-- it is innocuous in 1935, but in 2020, it's full of meaning. the film did not even come out until '39, and i'm not sure when the phrase came to mean what it means now. a kind of circular joke, that is meaningless both to the joke teller and his audience, yet full of subtext to both the author and the readers. it's interesting. it's also a little bit insidious and what i dislike about this novel revolves around it. it is a joke under layers and layers that you must already know something about to know what it means. and yet if you don't you miss it and you miss nothing. it's the "representation" in this novel-- it's buried and it's minor and you can miss it easily, and while it may be well intentioned, its existence is more insulting than inviting.

it's second major flaw is its attempt at a political message. it suffers as much liberalism suffers, by drawing an arbitrary line in the sand where doing the right thing is the goal, if you have someone you like pushing you to do it, but it's ok to fall short if it inconveniences you, scares you, is considered illegal in any way.

here is a minor example: a character who studies environmental science talks about writing a paper about all of the plastic in the ocean. not two chapters later he talks about how he likes tuna salad, as if the majority of plastic in the ocean didn't come from the fishing industry. i'd chalk this up to author ignorance (and not character ignorance because i think teenagers are smarter than that) but johnson is vegetarian, maybe vegan; she is at the very least a big fan of isa chandra moskowitz, noted vegan cookbook author. (if you care about the environment.... go vegan).

here is a bigger example: throughout the novel there is a commentary on a fictional senator who could very well be a number of real senators. he's your run of the mill republican, in my opinion: racist scaremonger who wants a "return to personal responsibility". stevie's parents work for his campaign, despite her personal objections to him. after making out with a housemate several times, she discovers he is the senator's son. the kid is supposed to be just as against his father as stevie is, although he is, in perhaps the politest way i can phrase it, chaotic as fuck.

maybe i am just jaded but i can't imagine anyone with money not being tainted by their parent's politics that work to get them this money. yet they do end up together, and a large part of the secondary, non-mystery plot is her love interest's work to ruin his father's bid for presidency.

there is a turning point where, the boy and some friends (not stevie and her friends, because it Felt Wrong) find out that his father has been blackmailing shady people for campaign finances. great. until, instead of exposing them, they decide to destroy the information, because it is less illegal.

oh..... ok? i mean, if he got dirt on these people i don't think he couldn't do it again. if he reports it to the press, he destroys his father's bid for presidency and the lives of the awful people he's extorting. it's a win-win scenario. will the kid go to jail? maybe, but even if his father is pressing charges against him, he's still a rich white boy. he'll be ok. doing something illegal for the greater good is ok. lots of things were once illegal. that doesn't make them immoral. maybe doing the right thing, like absolutely destroying any chance your awful father has at holding a position of power, is better than taking an easy way out.

maybe, if you want to write a mystery, write a mystery, and if you want to write something political, don't feature the police as a trustworthy organization.

but what do i know.

[blackbird-brewster]

Libraries are Magic!

Around age 10/11 I was diagnosed with ADHD. As long as I took my meds, I could focus in school and could continue my reading habits. But I was only on meds for a few years. I’m not really sure why the meds stopped, maybe my new GP didn’t agree with pumping a young child full of stimulants? I honestly have NO recollection of why my treatment stopped. But it did. So around age 14, I stopped reading regularly.

I would read the mandatory novels for school (maybe, mostly I used Spark Notes) and I would read one or two novels a YEAR for recreation. This continued into adulthood. The problem was, with untreated ADHD I had such a hard time following a book that I would just give up reading anything longer than a short story. It was SO frustrating as someone who had always loved reading.

The only way I could read a novel would be if I set aside the time to read it front to back in one sitting. Otherwise, if I read a chapter here and a chapter there, I would totally forget what was happening. This lead to re-reading the previous chapters over and over, which is not only time consuming but so infuriating. Reading became hyperfocus/all at once or zero focus/none at all.

Because of this, if I feel the urge to read I just re-read the same few books over and over time and again because I’m familiar enough with them that I can follow them if I read them over a longer period of time. (It’s like putting on your favorite movie in the background that you don’t actually have to pay attention to in order to enjoy)

Okay, enough of the tragic backstory. Let’s get to the plot...

Libraries are Magic.

A few days ago I needed to print some stuff and my flat mate’s printer stopped working. Rather than trekking into town to go to the office supply store (where I usually do my printing), I decided to wonder down the street to the library... Before this week, I could count the number of times I’ve been in a public library in the past twenty years on one hand. I haven’t had a library card since I was 9 years old. This was back when you had to look through the card catalog to find a book, it was a LONG time ago. 

Because of my reading difficulties, I’ve had no use for public libraries. They give me anxiety. I haven’t actually finished a book in over FIVE years. I’ve started a few, but I never finish them. This is not something I am proud of. I feel shame for not being able to read and enjoy novels like I used to when I was a kid. I was always ahead in reading comprehension compared to other kids my age but I feel like now, I still have the reading comprehension of a 12 year old.

Now, Christchurch has a lot of libraries. The Christchurch City Library network consists of 22 libraries for a city with a population of 375,000.  I mean, maybe other cities have this many? But I wouldn’t really know since I’ve never paid attention to them. That just seems like A LOT of libraries in one city!? And the thing is, they are AMAZING libraries. 

I had previously been in about three of them around the city and they are all very modern looking. I remember thinking they seemed pretty nice but I was usually just there to use the computer for 5 minutes, so I never actually explored. 

Last week I read [this post] about libraries and I realized how long it had been since I had REALLY explored a library. Libraries I remembered didn’t have any of these modern wonders people were writing about. I was pretty inspired by that post and so I decided to overcome my anxiety this week and get back into the library. Instead of just running in and out of the library to print what I needed, I decided to get a library card. 

When I walked in, I timidly asked a woman at the help desk for assistance. I told her I wanted to get a library card and she took me over to another desk. Because of my anxiety regarding libraries, I had done extensive research on what I needed to get a library card -- so I was already prepared with my ID and proof of address. She had me fill out the membership form and she opened a drawer and asked me what colour I wanted. You get to pick a colour of library card! (I obviously got pink, seeing as it is the best colour) She registered my card in the system and wrote my name on it and handed it to me. 

I guess she registered that I looked like a lost puppy because she asked if I knew about all the things my brand new card entitled me to. I admitted I hadn’t had a library card in nearly twenty years and she looked as if that was her absolute favorite thing to hear.

She pulled up the CCL website and walked me through EVERY part. I mean EVERY part. She showed me how to search the entire city catalog online, how to places holds (if you want a book from a different branch they will transport it to your favorite branch and keep it on hold for you for only $3!! OR if you have disabilities which limit your access to the library it’s FREE!!), how to create reading lists, how to see what I have checked out and when they’re due back, if I have late fees, basically everything you need when you want books or media. 

THEN she showed me the eLibrary!! With my library card, I have access to over 47,000 ebooks and audio books to download FOR FREE. Including everything from major literary works to cookbooks to scholarly articles to resources on how to learn new hobbies. Basically anything you want is available to you digitally now. Click of a button. 

There are also all sorts of community events and classes you can go to that are all sponsored through the library. 

At this point, I am blown away. I am actually crying at the idea of all of this knowledge and all of these resources being readily available to me FOR FREE. 

This woman looks at me, sees I’m crying and just smiles the most genuine and loving smile any stranger has ever given me. (I suspect most adults don’t usually have this reaction to getting a library card. But I’m not most adults.) I imagine it must have been pretty satisfying to her to get a REAL reaction to how MAGICAL the library is. Look Claudine (I asked her name), I am 100% here for you taking me on this incredible journey from my faded memories of cranky old librarians and dusty books and jettisoning me into the 21st century. THANK. YOU.

Once she releases me to browse on my own, it is like I have landed in some uncharted territory that is full of spectacular things to experience. 

Our library is complete with self service checkout and return stations, computer areas, flat screen tvs, cozy reading areas, huge media libraries, free wi-fi, some apparently have cafes, others have Xbox360 or PS4 to play, and of course...thousands upon thousands of books.  I eagerly approached the catalog computer and type in the title of a book our midwife recommended. Bam. Not only does it show me all copies available within the 22 libraries, it shows availability, holds, wait lists etc. I click on the title and navigate to the page that shows it’s available at that branch and where to find it. It was as if I just became my own librarian! 

I’ve always been a fan of numbers so the dewy decimal system is a fave of mine. I have absolutely NO trouble finding the book on the shelf. I traced my fingers over the library sticker and thumb threw the pages and clutched it close to my chest. It was my first library book in twenty years and I was emotional.

I wandered around every section, mind racing with what I should read. I sort of ended up psyching myself out about the fact just because I had access to the library didn’t actually cure my ADHD and reading issues. So I decided to just go print what I had originally come in for and check out the pregnancy book. 

During my two hour visit, I had to ask for help about five times. But after my experience with Claudine, I didn’t feel ashamed to have to ask questions that were probably common sense. The workers helped me every time and never made me feel judged, even when I asked where the kids chapter books were. Or how do I log in to the computer now that I have a card. Or how do I check stuff out.

When I scanned my card at the checkout computer, it felt like that beep was the indication of a whole new exciting part of my adult life. I cannot even describe how happy I was to check out a book. 

I now have the CCL app on my phone, a list of books to check out and a plan to go back this weekend. I even applied to be a book shelver at one of the nearby branches AND I started reading a new novel today!! I am really obsessed with the idea that these great big, amazingly accessible, places of adventure exist and it’s FREE. I feel like I’m a kid all over again.I cannot wait to see where this rekindled passion leads me.

TL;DR: LIBRARIES ARE MAGICAL! AND FREE! AND EVEN IF YOU HAVE DISABILITIES PEOPLE ARE (PROBABLY) GOING TO BE NICE TO YOU AND HELP YOU FIND WHATEVER YOU NEED!

So go to your local library, check it out. PLEASE! I bet it will blow your mind. 

[noahfence1d]

On a muggy May morning in a penthouse in Battersea, southwest London, the delectable self-styled “chef and food consultant” Tess Ward is slumped on an enormous grey sofa, cradling a cup of peppermint tea and musing on the downsides of social media.

“Snapchat I’ve deleted, Twitter — don’t really do it,” she says wearily, her home counties accent as sharp as mandolined celeriac. “I’m even a little bit out of love with Instagram. At the moment I’m getting a lot of direct messages there, but I respectfully choose not to reply to them, because they’re all, like, er . . . interesting. I want a break,” she wails, her tones turning mock-northern. “I just want a break.”

Why is Ward so disillusioned? She’s a key member of today’s cohort of gorgeous, uber-connected food writers/chefs/wellbeing gurus (think “Deliciously” Ella Mills of the Sainsbury dynasty and former models Jasmine and Melissa Hemsley), following the favoured career path for upper-crust pretty things, whom the satirical website the Daily Mash unkindly categorised under the headline “Sexy posh girls unveil bullshit fad diet”.

As in all their cases, Instagram has been key to building Ward’s brand: she has nearly 130,000 followers, mesmerised by her soft-focus lifestyley/foodie shots of toasted almonds and beetroot salad, Ward doing yoga on a Yucatan beach, sweet potato and avocado brunches, Ward sunbathing on the shores of Lake Como and looking foxy at the polo in a bright-red floral Gucci shirt . . .

This last shot, posted early last week, nearly broke social media, not to mention a million teenage hearts — and brought her an additional 50,000 followers. It was apparent confirmation that Ward was — as had been rumoured for days — going out with Harry Styles of the boyband One Direction. Only four days earlier he had been seen about town in an identical £530 shirt.

That same day Ward was papped in the passenger seat of an Audi being driven by Styles, whose first solo album was about to be released. Instantly, she became a 21st-century Yoko Ono, loathed by loyal Directioners who are notorious for making voodoo dolls and sending death threats to any woman with whom their idols are spotted socialising.

They started trolling Ward’s social media. An innocuous Instagram snap of her mango and honey ice cream (dairy-free, obvs) attracted more than 3,000 comments along the lines of “Go awaaay”, “Ew”, “This looks disgusting” and “social climber”.

On Amazon her cookbook The Naked Diet, which had so far received about a dozen four and five-star reviews, overnight attracted a tranche of one-star write-ups, along the lines of “boring” and “unoriginal”.

“It’s been so weird, the hate messages . . . very bizarre,” Ward sighs, her fragile frame hunched. “I’m not the kind of person who’s interested in fame and if you’re put in an environment which you don’t understand and you can’t control and you don’t want, it’s horrible.”

She bites her lip; her doll-like, tanned face bleak. “Reporters have turned up at my mum’s house several times, at my old house. I just want to do what I love and that’s cook, it really is.”

So what’s going on? Is Ward, 27, going out with Styles, 23?

“I literally don’t have anything to say about that,” she sighs, as her PR snaps: “My clients don’t talk about their personal lives.”

Many distraught Directioners are convinced there’s nothing to talk about because this is all a publicity stunt to flog cookbooks (although what’s in it for Styles is less clear). Last weekend, Ward attended his “secret” London gig until, according to one fan who claimed on Twitter to have been standing near by, she was told by Styles’s people: “That’s enough, you can leave now.” In other words, her presence had been noted, job done.

If this is all a ploy to boost Ward’s profile, I doubt she would be so visibly shaken. Shortly after we meet, Ward disables her Instagram messaging facility, posting: “For everyone following and messaging me, I am thankful but please be kind to me. All I want is to share beautiful food with you all.”

Assuming there is a relationship, then Styles, who is refusing to comment, is a lucky chap. Because, even compared to his arm-long list of exes (Taylor Swift, Kendall Jenner, Caroline Flack, Pixie Geldof, Rod Stewart’s daughter and someone from Made in Chelsea), Ward is a catch, ridiculously pretty in frayed jeans and an embroidered denim jacket, bobbed fair hair, endearingly darker at the roots, framing an angelic face — a testament to the power of good genes and quinoa.

She’s also — when not brooding on her role as Britain’s most-hated woman — extremely likeable: voluble and friendly with a dry sense of humour.

“People can be so weird,” she continues on the social media theme. “You post a salad and they’re like, ‘That’s not nutritionally balanced.’ I like to be playful. There’s a slight puritanism about the way a lot of people post about food — they’ll be like, ‘I’m eating this salmon bowl and it’s got all these omegas, it’s perfect for getting your skin to glow.’ I’m like, ‘I don’t care! It’s a f***ing salmon salad!’ ” She frowns as she scrolls through comments on her Instagram feed. “Here’s this pasta recipe I’ve written. ‘Even if it’s not perfect it’s good when it’s made with love’ — that’s a bit too earnest. I was like, ‘Ew! God, far too nice for me.’ ”

Part of London’s It crowd (she is forever being snapped at parties with minor royals and the models Suki Waterhouse and Amber Le Bon and was, allegedly, introduced to Styles via “mutual friends”), Ward has walked here in Battersea from the house she shares in west London. “I used to live alone, but when you cook, you need people around to offload the food.” She’s looking to buy in hipper Stoke Newington, nearer the buzzing bars and restaurants.

Her parents — she has a brother, who’s a student — divorced when she was ten. Her father, who lives between west London and Oxfordshire, works for a multinational property company. “Dad’s a bit nuts; he wears tweed suits and bright purple shirts and odd socks always,” she says, smiling, scrolling through her phone to find a picture. “Look, here he is going to a fancy-dress party, dressed as bouillon, so in a chicken hat.”

Her mother, who lives in Oxford, is a yoga teacher. “She’s very spiritual, she sends me pictures of her in her crystal healing area. So cute. I have the best parents. They’re very progressive, bohemian, they’ve always been like, ‘Do whatever you like, it’s your body, it’s your life’, but everything has consequences and as a result I’ve always been very responsible.”

Ward was a tomboyish child, happiest helping her maternal grandfather, a farmer, to “pluck pheasants and gut fish’’. She attended a Quaker boarding school, then a small private day school for girls in Oxford. “I hated it. I was disruptive and got in so much trouble. I really didn’t feel the cookie-cutter school system was for me.”

However, she flourished at the local private sixth form college and ended up following a classic upper-middle-class path of reading history of art at the University of Leeds where, with a lot of free time, she held “a lot of dinner parties”.

On graduating, she did some modelling “but that didn’t sing for me”, so studied classical French cooking at Le Cordon Bleu, before working at various establishments including the Ritz and River Cottage.

“Cooking for people didn’t really do it for me. You’re always making the same stuff, and in a restaurant the hours are long and it’s hard physical labour. You’re on your feet for at least 14 hours a day and I’m not very big — my parents were like, ‘You’re quite pale and weathered.’ ”

She started reviewing restaurants for Grazia magazine, consulting brands such as Fortnum & Mason and Grey Goose. In the future she is hoping to open a restaurant and write a sequel to The Naked Diet, whose title reflects Ward’s “stripped back” approach to unprocessed food.

Like Ella Mills, Ward has been “mindful” of what she eats as a result of health issues — travelling alone around India on her gap year she picked up a parasite that was eventually cured by a clinical nutritionist (she has done an online course at the Institute of Integrative Nutrition). She’s allergic to soya and avoids wheat: “It gives me a stomach ache.” She doesn’t eat dessert much because “I don’t have a terribly sweet tooth” and dislikes melted cheese — “so pizza’s out”. She has just given up red meat “more for the planet than for dietary reasons. Other than that, I’m pretty relaxed.”

The #avotoast world is an increasingly crowded one and can be bitchy. Last year she had a skirmish with the Bake Off finalist Ruby Tandoh, after Ward tweeted: “Let’s all make baking books and wonder why the world has health and sugar addiction problems.” Tandoh lashed back calling her a “denizen of the weight loss industry” on Twitter, screenshotting a reference to a “Skinny Bitch” cooking class Ward had hosted.

“A lot of girls in food aren’t so nice,” Ward says. “Though the Hemsleys really are good girls. I went to their first book launch when I was submitting my first draft, looked around and thought, ‘This is the beginning of a thing, isn’t it?’

“Ella’s book was coming out, it became a wave and the media lumped us into one category. But I was very aware that these were girls telling people what they should eat. I’m not a qualified nutritionist, I’m a chef — my standpoint is food being delicious primarily and secondarily what’s good for you.

“Healthy living is a trend and that’s more my thing than clean eating, which is a fad and something I feel I was pulled into. The vegan and the clean can perpetuate a lot of other problems, which aren’t good.”

[sentrava]

Fa La La: The Ultimate Christmas Gift Guide

It’s my favorite time of the year, you guys: It’s officially socially acceptable to listen to Christmas tunes around the clock, plus I have a valid excuse to spend hours scouring the Internet in search of great gift ideas for you to give your loved ones! (I may also have shopped a little lot in the process. Oops.)

Note: Some of these featured products are from our sponsors, while others are affiliate links that will earn me a small commission. 

So without further ado, here’s what I’m digging this year:

FOR THE NOMADIC SOUL

Have a friend or family member in your life who is only satisfied when doing something new, exciting and/or unique? (I know a little something about that!) Well, Tinggly has the cure that ails them. I’ve always been a fan of giving experiences instead of mere stuff, and this is the perfect solution: You can gift your loved one a personalized box that contains a voucher to a bucket list kind of item that most people only dream of. Dinner with a NASA astronaut? James Bond sightseeing tour in Thailand? VIP helicopter over the Vegas Strip? Yoga retreat in India? Tango lesson in Buenos Aires? Tinggly has something for every taste. I also love that you can choose your box by theme: birthday, Christmas, wedding, couples and more.

FOR THE SUN BUM

True story: I allot more space in my luggage to sunglasses than I do to anything else, as heaven forbid I be photographed in the same shades over and over again! But I can’t help it: I’m always outside doing something fun, and if there’s one thing fashion-wise that I care about the most it’s what’s on my face. And I love the selection of women’s sunglasses available at Sunglass Warehouse. I’m a huge fan of Aviators—bonus points if they’re mirrored—and Sunglass Warehouse has so many different kinds of Aviators in stock, many available for under $20. (With as much as I change out my shades, I like keeping my cost per item as low as possible.) For those shopping for the holidays, Sunglass Warehouse is offering 40% off one pair of shades from now through Nov. 30 with the code SPENDLESS40.

FOR THE TECH-HEAVY TRAVELER

We’ve all been there before: You’re traveling all day and your iPhone quickly depletes of all power. It’s near impossible to locate an outlet at an airport, and even my backup battery usually dies well before my travel day has ended (a nightmare scenario as I rely on it for ride-sharing when I finally reach my destination). Which is why Lynktec’s Reeljuice 5X Power Bank + 10 Watt Rapid Wall Charger is my new favorite thing; it’s got four feet of retractable charging cord, and it gives me FIVE full charges before it needs to be re-powered. No more fighting my fellow fliers for coveted outlet space at the airport; in fact, I can even charge my phone while I fly. I’m giving one of these bad boys away down at the bottom of the post, but you can also get 25 percent off (site-wide!) with the code LUNATICATLARGE25.

FOR THE SCIENCE GEEK (OR THE TWEEN)

This Lock Pick Beginners Box is at the very top of my DIY-loving husband’s own list, and for good reason: It gives you the tools (literally and figuratively) that you need to learn how to pick locks, with two different sets of practice locks that have clear sides so that the trainee can see what’s going on behind the scenes with the mechanisms. This is the perfect present for a dude—what husband/boyfriend doesn’t love tinkering?—but also would be a fantastic and affordable option for your fidgety, problem-solving tween.

FOR THE PHILANTHROPIST

You guys know my love for St. Jude runs deep. It’s just so cool what they do there: On top of being one of the top research facilities in the world, St. Jude also ensure that its patients don’t have to worry about a thing (like, for example, cost or lodging for the family) other than getting better. I donate to St. Jude periodically throughout the year, but I’m loving their new initiative, This Shirt. All you have to do is sign up to donate $20 to St. Jude monthly, and you get this exclusive Tee that all your favorite country artists (and your favorite blogger!) are wearing. Because helping others is really the reason for the season.

FOR THE ETERNAL STUDENT

Alert, alert, self plug coming! Kristin Sweeting and I are headed to Portugal next July to teach the ultimate writing, photography, marketing and business workshop—and we’d love for you to join us! We’ve extended registrations through Dec. 31 and have a handful of spots left (and a really amazing group attending so far!). Come learn the ropes of the biz with us while surfing, roaming, doing yoga and exploring Lisbon’s charming surrounds with us in your downtime. Bring your significant other or business partner or come solo. Just think of it as continuing education, a tax write-off and a vacation all rolled into one! As a Christmas special, I’m including two one-hour coaching sessions for anyone who signs up by Dec. 15, one by Skype prior to the trip and one in Portugal.

FOR THE AT-HOME COOK

We’re always experimenting in the kitchen, and try to eat as clean (i.e. no processed food) as possible, meaning that adding herbs and spices is clutch for our style of dining. I’ve had a subscription to Raw Spice Bar for the past year, and I love that every three months, a collection of six individually packaged, freshly-ground, seasonal spices arrives in my mailbox and that I don’t have to commit to buying the entire spice jar before I know I like it. You can even customize your diet to Paleo, vegan, vegetarian, healthy or “eat anything” and, of course, buy more from the Raw Spice Bar shop if you like what you tried.

FOR THE HEALTHY DINER

I’m all about collecting cookbooks, even if SVV is technically the chef in our household. My current favorite is A Beautiful Mess Weekday Weekend, which just came out this month and compiles even more healthy, vegetarian recipes than Elsie and Emma post on their blog. If you already own ABM, may I suggest the following: Laura Lea Balanced, Body Love and Cravings (maybe technically not healthy, but who doesn’t want to look like Chrissy Teigen?!).

FOR THE NEW HOMEOWNER

Earlier this year, my interior designer friend Kendall Simmons and her husband Kane launched Salut Home, a thoughtfully curated collection of home goods and accents, and I drool over all their colorful offerings every time the email hits my inbox. My current obsession? Their new collection of Leah Singh pillows (all things Leah Singh, really)—they have 96 styles in stock! And bonus, they’re on sale for Black Friday (use the code LEAH20), or you can sign up for their newsletter and receive a promo code for 10 percent off.

FOR THE SHUTTERBUG

While I’ll never fully replace my DSLR, ever since my mom gave me the Canon G7X Mark II for Christmas last year, it’s replaced my Canon 6D in my purse as my daily camera. It’s still got the manual settings so I can play around with the exposure, but is small and compact and great for videos. (Check out the travel videos I’ve been making for evidence.)

FOR THE BIG KID IN YOUR LIFE

For SVV’s last birthday, I got him a Phantom 4 Pro+ drone, and he loves it. He was a former aviation tech in the Navy and daydreams about flying all the time. Coupled with his penchant for photography, it was the perfect gift (and has come in handy on many a work project for us, too!). I think the P4 Pro is great for someone who does photography professionally; however, if your loved one isn’t that well-versed in drones yet, I recommend a cheaper, lighter model like the DJI Spark as a starter drone.

FOR THE ADVENTURER

I’ve had five different GoPros since I got my first one seven years ago, and the quality has improved significantly. After watching some of my YouTubers film exclusively with the GoPro Hero 6, I’m adding the newest model to my wishlist for our upcoming ski adventures (and it finally comes equipped with an LCD screen, too—you used to have to buy those a la carte).

FOR THE DOG OWNER

I bought a pair of travel pillows from the entrepreneurs behind Doggie Duffel, and I’m intrigued by their latest (fully-funded) project that’s essentially an all-in-one travel kit for your pup. Ella doesn’t have one of these yet, but I think I know what she’ll be finding under the Christmas tree…

FOR THE ART LOVER

I’ve been a long-time fan (turned friend) of Leslee Mitchell’s, and every time her gorgeous photography pops into my feed, I mentally bookmark it for the next time I’m doing a room makeover. I recently snagged several of her toy car prints, and I’m absolutely in love! Any giftee would be lucky to own a series of prints from this talented artist.

FOR THE SPORTY GIRL

Pretty much all my travel apparel comes from Gap Fit or Athleta—after all, I’m a girl who places comfort above style, but with most athleisure, luckily you can have both!—and a few pieces I’m loving this winter are: this metallic sweatshirt, this jersey keyhole top, this pullover hoodie and these black, leopard-print leggings.

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  FOR THE VINTAGE LOVER

Wish you’d grown up in the 70s? (Me, too.) You can embrace a bygone era with this sleek record player in a portable brief case that doubles as a CD player and has USB ports. Bonus: It comes in five different colors!

FOR YOUR FRIEND WHO WORKS FROM HOME

You know that girl who works in her coziest pajamas and barely leaves her computer desk all day long, except to refill her coffee/water/bourbon glass? (AHEM.) Welllll, how much would she love to upgrade from her ratty old PJs to this amazing unicorn onesie? (Really bad, I’ll tell ya!) For one that’s a bit more subtle, Nordstrom currently has this beauty on sale.

Stocking Stuffers Under $50

Savannah Bee Co. body products. I was stoked when I recently spotted Savannah Bee’s entire line, like this body butter, for sale at Target!

Geometric rings. Psst, SVV, looking for something small to get me? Start here.

Paddywax candle. My favorite candles are those that you can reuse the container as tabletop decor after it’s burned out.

Herb mill and grinder. As someone who’s very lazy in the kitchen, I love any tool that does the hard work for me.

S’well bottle. My cousins gave me one of these nifty canteens two years ago, and it’s been a game changer in my travels as I no longer have to abuse the planet by buying bottled water.

Stocking Stuffers Under $20

Taylor Swift’s reputation album. The Old Taylor can’t come to the phone because she’s out there SLAYING it with her new album. Man, this one is going to rack up the awards, and it should be in any music lover’s repertoire of tunes.

Flamingo ornament. I’m a sucker for all things flamingos and also ornaments, and Nordstrom at Home has a whole lot of cute, travel-themed ones, many of which are on sale.

Vintage maps. SVV and I are map lovers to the core. We own more than 30 globes and a number of vintage maps, but those are tough to find, which is why I like this Etsy store, which has both domestic and international city prints.

Monogrammed copper wine stopper. Because who doesn’t want their initial atop their vino?!

Twist Magazine’s winter issue. Launched by my good friend Keryn, this new travel publication is a gorgeous glossy that’s the perfect stuffer for the family traveler.

A taco holder. What taco lover doesn’t need this in their life?!

Stocking Stuffers Under $10

Sheet masks. I’ve been addicted to sheet masking for a year now, and while the TonyMoly variety pack is my go-to order, I’m equally as obsessed with these reindeer and penguin masks from Target.

eos holiday lip balm. I keep an eos in every bag I own, and I just popped this trio of holiday flavors (peppermint mocha, vanilla bean, ginger) into my shopping cart!

A manatee tea infuser. Or if manatees aren’t your thing (you crazy), there’s also a sloth, shark or loch ness monster.

iPhone charging cords in myriad colors. Show of hands if you, like me, are always on the hunt for that missing iPhone/USB/mini-USB cord?

The Oregon Trail Card Came. Because kids these days don’t even know what it’s like to ford a river and then die of dysentery when you’re almost there.

Pop socket. This little doodad changed my life—and made me stop dropping my iPhone altogether. I didn’t know how I’d feel about it, but I love it.

Rare earth magnets. We bought these to tack things to our wall on our four-month RTW cruise, and they’ve been a game-changer on actually keeping all of our cards and photos up on the fridge. They never fall, like, ever.

Since it doesn’t feel like the holidays until I start giving away gifts, I’m giving away one big C&C stocking stuffer grab bag, full of some of my favorite things, including the Lynktec charging station, a selection of Raw Spice Bar spices, and plenty of other stocking stuffers for you to give your family and friends (or keep for yourself—I won’t judge!). The value of this box o’ fun is currently over $300—also brimming with music, beauty items, and other odds and ends I’ve purchased and wanted to share with you—though I’ll likely continue to add to that as I finish my Black Friday shopping.

All you have to do to enter is tell me your favorite holiday tradition. Don’t have one? Tell me what’s the top of your Christmas wishlist! It’s that simple. Leave a comment below, and I’ll randomly choose a winner of this bag o’ fun on Dec. 1.

PIN IT HERE

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