Since arriving in New York, my days have been packed. It’s cool that I get to travel for work, but getting off a train from New Jersey at 10:30 pm doesn’t leave a lot of time for health and wellness. You know what they say: when the going gets tough, the tough get fat. Plus it’s easier not to eat when you get home when you’re not going home alone, and since
Leonardo DiCaprio still hasn’t noticed me my man’s far away in Tennessee, I’ve fallen into the habit of thinking, “My diet starts tomorrow.” Absence makes the butt grow fatter.
Given the surplus of #SingleGirlProblems on Twitter, the internet’s overwhelming obsession with cats, and the fact that wine ice cream even exists, it’s pretty clear that the world is made up of single ladies (cue Beyoncé). If you feel like Johnny Lee circa 1980 and are lookin’ for love in all the wrong places, maybe it’s time you tried a little TLC: Tinder Loving Care. Continue reading
Living in New York must be an acquired skill, because everyone who lives here appears to be really good at it. It seems to me that New Yorkers all have heels that don’t give them blisters, umbrellas that don’t get all inside out every time the wind blows, and cool accents that make them sound way tougher than my southern drawl ever could. Oh, and did I mention that they wear all black and look effortlessly chic all the time?
Oscar Wilde (supposedly) said, “You can never be overdressed or overeducated.” Yeah, I’m going to go ahead and say that I proved Mr. Wilde wrong on that one. Continue reading
Long time no see! The thing is, I haven’t had much time to post because I’ve just been so busy hanging out with my celebrity friends. The life of the rich and famous isn’t as easy as it looks.
^^^Isn’t it so weird that so many people retweeted Ellen’s picture of me?
A lot has happened since you last heard from me…
One of the first things that people notice about me is the massive scar on my leg. Recently, I was thrown into a panic when I passingly glanced at my leg and did not immediately see my scar. I quickly searched for that familiar, knotty ridge that has been my constant companion for so long. Phew, it was still there. Fading, but still there. And it got me thinking: what would I do without my scar? Who would I be without my scar? My scar is a steadfast confirmation that I’m me. In my life, I have learned that the distance from incident to tragedy can be only a short walk, and that the path may be littered with all kinds of unexpected calamity. The scars that these afflictions leave, forever serve as an indication and remembrance of the battles that I have fought and won. I accept my scars as what they are: born out of ordeal and hardship and acting as a constant element of my identity, reminding me that I survived. The reality of living a full life is that I will meet my share of adversity, and that some of this adversity is going to leave its mark on me. A few years ago, I vowed to no longer view my scars as disfigurements but as unwavering reminders that I am blessed, that I am tough, that I won the fight.
Click here to read my list of 9 reasons you should do the same.
Because you know anything’s better than walking alone.
1. Who takes the night bus?
I’ve come to a conclusion:
…or maybe just not in logistics. It may come as a surprise to you, but I don’t think that locating missing freight is my passion.
1. “A BOY?!”
When T. Swift explains what it feels like to be 22…