Category: confidence

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The Prophecy

“And it was written

I got cursed like Eve got bitten

Oh, was it punishment?”

-Taylor Swift

Most people learn about themselves as teens, and make the big mistakes in their 20s. Unfortunately, I didn’t have that privilege, I was sheltered from a young age and I couldn’t move from that for a very long time. For example, I wasn’t allowed to have or be at sleepovers. The first time my mother allowed me to go to a sleepover was when I was 16-17. These were people I knew since I was 12-13, but it took heavy convincing, and I was never allowed to have one at our house. My mother thinks this is why I’m always angry at her which is fucking laughable. My anger is due to her tone deaf comments, insensitivity, her emotional unavailability, which have never subsided, and by the way, she thinks that her helping me with homework as a child was her going above and beyond? I wish I was kidding, anyway.

She’s also very religious so she didn’t want me to be influenced by non-Christians, and it didn’t matter if they practiced another religion, for her they were all wrong because Protestantism is the one true religion (she’s changed her tune since then). I wished she was right, I wished that it was drugs or alcohol, or reckless sex, but it wasn’t (because she’d be right), it was sleepovers, movie nights, going to the movie theatre, and listening to all kinds of music, that’s what me and my friends did that she didn’t allow me to do for a long time. On this note, she says that I was a good Christian girl until I was brainwashed in college, again, not exaggerating.

I have always craved having a mother that I could tell things to, I remember being jealous of my friends because they had a close relationship with their moms. Throughout my life I have tried including my mother, only for every time I do, she reminds me why I don’t. I remember being a teen and telling a friend of mine that I liked him, I shared that with my mother after the fact, I was like 18, her reaction to that? “Carolyn, men don’t like women that, women that are forward. You need to wait for them to make the first move.” When I was 27, she told me I ruined her Christmas when I told her I got a nose piercing, I was well out of her house by then, now she recants.

“Please

I’ve been on my knees

Change the prophecy

Don’t want money

Just someone who wants my company

Let it once be me

Who do I have to speak to

About if they can redo the prophecy?”

So you see, on one hand I was struggling (mostly alone) with the idea that no man would ever like me because of my personality (thanks mom) and on the other, I have always been fat, so I also thought no one would like me because “who likes fat girls?” (thanks society). A perfect combination for a fucking mess. Moving out of her house gave me the space to start figuring out who I am. What I like, what I don’t like. This proved to be surprisingly hard. Turns out that even though I hadn’t practiced Christianity for years at that point, everything they taught me, all the things I had heard at church in my formative years had taken a very deep hold on me. Intellectually I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong, and I wasn’t, but emotionally, I felt bad about those things.

“Slow is the quicksand

Poison blood from the wound of the pricked hand

Oh, still I dream of him”

All this story is a precursor, a summary if you will, so you understand why it took me so long to find myself, to like myself and to actually believe someone would want and like me.

I had to make conscious choices to change that way of thinking. There’s not a manual to guide you through it. Hating your body and thinking people won’t love you, makes it really hard to find someone, because if you hate yourself, how is someone else supposed to love it? Daniel Sloss has a great analogy where he says that if you love yourself 20% and someone comes in to love you 40%, you think that’s a lot, but it is literally less than half. But if you love yourself 100%, someone has to go above and beyond to love you (It’s from his special Jigsaw on Netflix).

So relatively recently I made it, about two years ago I hopped back on dating apps, matched with someone who seemed to be into me, that kind of pushed me to want to look better, dress better, I wanted to impress him you know? I shouldn’t have made all that effort for that person, BUT all the progress I made, feeling better about myself, actually liking me for once, didn’t go away when that ended, which I’m very glad for. Around the same time I had started CrossFit, if nothing else that gave me a boost of confidence for trying things out of my comfort zone. And I haven’t stopped since. All those cute clothes I used to think I couldn’t wear, I have worn, even lingerie, I started liking myself in the body I had.

“…I howl like a wolf at the moon

And I look unstable

Gathered with a coven around a sorcerer’s table”

Simultaneously, I stopped thinking men couldn’t like me. I found that there is actually a bunch that do (whether they’re good for me or not, is a whole other story lol). Unfortunately, every time one didn’t work, I’d find myself reverting to unhealed me and wondered if I had really healed. Because I’d find myself wondering what was wrong with me. I didn’t, and sometimes still don’t, understand why they didn’t work or why I keep crossing paths with the wrong people. In retrospect, I know that before I couldn’t really attract people, not because I wasn’t attractive but because putting myself down isn’t really attractive, I’d tell guys I liked them by saying some variation of “I know you don’t like me, but I do” and remembering that makes me ugh. But now, I was in such a good place, I made so many changes to myself and felt very good about me, how I looked, how I was portraying myself, I was emanating confidence. People took notice, yes, but still I’d get “you’re too good for me/you deserve someone better”, there still wasn’t anyone that liked me, that would fight to keep me in their life, so I wondered if all that work was worth it. I didn’t do the work for anyone other than myself but fuck, I still wanted people to notice. I still wanted to hear someone cared about me, I wanted to know what it felt like to be loved by someone.

“I’m so afraid I sealed my fate

No sign of soulmates

I’m just a paperweight

In shades of greige

Spending my last coin so someone will tell me

It’ll be okay”

As a child when I played with my Barbies, they’d get married at around 22 so they could have at least two babies before they were 25. That was learned, a product of my environment. As a teen I grew up disliking the gender roles my mother clung badly (and the ones she taught us). What I never accounted for was that my Barbies didn’t have careers, they just had their houses and cars just because. At 22 I was in my fourth year of my undergraduate degree (finished at 23), then at 25 I was working on my doctorate degree, which I finished at 28. Two degrees under 30. A Latina woman, in STEM, first woman in her family to finish a doctorate degree, second member overall. Who is working in her field. A woman that is many things, kind, thoughtful, wears her heart on her sleeve, gives a lot of herself and will go to the ends of the heart for those she cares about. Yet, she still feels inadequate. I figured once I finished grad school all the chips would fall where they needed, and they haven’t. I am still working through the fact that changing opinions is more than saying you don’t believe something anymore, you have to go in and put in the work, if you don’t all those things you used to believe will come back and bite you in the ass. That Barbie story, even though I don’t believe that I should have (or even could have) had a child at 22, I feel I’m behind, I am finding I haven’t actively changed that thought. I am a fucking doctor who feels hasn’t accomplished anything, make it make fucking sense. That just goes to show what the emphasis on success I was taught by my parents and society, ironically for a long time my mother was a single hardworking woman. I have to redefine my expectations on life, which I hadn’t reevaluated (I hadn’t realized), I don’t have a Time Machine.

I’m starting to make my peace with the fact that it might never work for me. That I have to be perfectly content being the single aunt, that has pets, and travels the world. But I do want the black picket fence, the kids, that suburban life. Will I get that? I don’t know. I do know that I can’t put my life on hold waiting for that, I have to live my life to the fullest, I have to make myself happy in whatever situation I am. Otherwise a lifetime will have passed me by and I would have only been miserable.


Some days I wake up with hope. Not because things are looking bright —they’re still looking bleak but I get glimmers of hope. I deserve good things, I deserve to be loved, cared for, looked after, I deserve to be first choice, and hopefully affirming those to myself will manifest them to life.

As Always,

With Love,

Carolyn

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Spain: Motherland Part II

Next stop in my Toledo tour was The Primate Cathedral of Saint Mary of Toledo. Like I’ve said before, I love going to Cathedrals, I love vaulted ceilings, which places like this have enough of, they also have stained glass. And pipe organs. But look at all that art, all the details (in gold and marble looks like).

That night was my birthday eve and I went to a bar crawl, I was having a lot of fun, visited several bars, it was about 2AM, I had enough, and decided to go home. I get an Uber, and as I’m waiting for it, I stop at a nearby food place, and in a crowded street, a guy starts harassing me, I tell him no, move away from him, but he walks into me, I push him away, I thought that was the end of it, when I realize I don’t have my phone, I had just used it to pay for the food, so I go back to the food place to check I didn’t leave it, it’s not there, then I realize I had to have put it on my coat pocket and the guy stole it. I tried to see if I saw him and he was gone. I started freaking out, wasn’t sure how I’d go back to the Airbnb, because, my cards were also attached to my phone. A guy on the street told me to calm down but I couldn’t, I was in a foreign city, far from my airbnb, with no knowledge on how I’d get back. So I did the only thing I could think of, which was go back to the bar and try to find the group I was with so I could try to get in touch with my dad, so he could block my phone. The bar crawl guide wasn’t super helpful apart from letting me borrow his phone to talk to my dad (didn’t help me getting back to my airbnb) but three people I met two hours before offered help, one guy even told me to log into my apple account from his phone so we could track mine, and he’d go to get my phone, but in the stress of it I couldn’t remember my password. The girl helped me breathe, told me that everyone’s gone through that, to which I responded I hadn’t, so she said “well, now you have”, which wasn’t funny then, but it is now. After using her phone to get in touch with my dad, he blocked my phone, and deletes everything from it. I always use my GPS to get around a foreign city, I don’t usually remember the address of where I am staying, for some reason, I remembered the address of this Airbnb, I don’t know how, but the why was so I could get back. The third guy got cash and paid for a cab for me to get back. I get back to my Airbnb, and from my watch I text a friend of mine that has an iPhone, he helps me with communication between me and my dad, since my dad doesn’t have an iPhone I can’t call him through the watch. At the Airbnb, and as I’m talking to my friend about what happened, I started having an anxiety attack. I didn’t even eat my food until it was cold. By then I had lost all appetite. I was going to attempt to get my iPhone replaced in Madrid, that morning I was meant to check out, so my friend sends me the address of the closest Apple Store, I walk there that morning with all my shit. I am on high alert and on edge, so much that I snapped at a lady on the street trying to sell me flowers, she got too close and it triggered me. I got to the Apple Store but unfortunately I couldn’t change my phone there as it was from another country (Apple might have changed that policy now), so I went to a phone store nearby and got a new phone, oh, remember I said he stole my cards too? Thankfully I had ONE on me, I never use debit cards on international trips so he just stole my credit cards, which was unfortunate, but I had a debit card, which I used for the remainder of this trip. The fucking phone cost me more than an iPhone replacement and it is the single most shitty phone ever. It was literally easier to open instagram, take a picture, download it than opening the phone app. I swear. Also the quality of pictures was shitty so bear with me the rest of the trip’s pics.

My last stop in Madrid was my dear Santiago Bernabeu, the home of Real Madrid. It was under construction, but it was still pretty majestic.

I got to see the stadium where a lot of my favorite stars had played at, where football history has been made. Unfortunately for me, they we playing away games when I was in Madrid, so I couldn’t see them, I think they had played as locals the week before and they’d be playing there the following week, so in short, bad timing.

That afternoon I took a train to Barcelona, another fast train, a 385 mile trip, roughly 6hrs driving took around 3hrs aboard the train, and it’s weird? It’s going really fast but you barely notice it, even as they travel around 186mph. I don’t have pictures of the interim because all the down time I had waiting at the train station, and on the train I spent setting the fucking phone, and calling credit card companies to cancel my cards, calling Apple to report the phone as stolen, which fun fact, when you’re calling from a Spanish number, it redirects you to a the Spanish brand EVEN if you’re calling the US number, so I had to get them to redirect me several times. All that process was SUPER fun. I think I slept some on the train but not much and even if I had slept the whole way it wasn’t a long trip. Anyway, I get to my Barcelona Airbnb, late, around 9 or 10pm, I think, tired as fuck. I shower and fall asleep as soon as I can, I was supposed to go to a bar crawl in Barcelona that night (birthday night), however I skipped it because, well, hadn’t slept for over 24hrs. And because I’m a masochist bitch, I had scheduled a tour of the Camp Nou the following morning at like 10AM, so I didn’t have lots of time to sleep if I went out.

For my football fans, specially those familiar with Real Madrid’s and Barcelona’s rivalry, I know, okay, I know, however, I was in Barcelona, there was no way I’d miss the stadium, and unlike Santiago Bernabeu they weren’t under construction and had a very thorough museum. If I took a photo of the stadium it’s lost in the shitty android Spanish phone (very sad). They had replicas of Messi’s Ballon D’or, several of them in fact, and I think he donated one of them so it was the real thing. If you keep scrolling, you can see the stadium, in several views, the entrance the players use to enter the field, and there’s a chapel in that tunnel as well.

I stopped at the Barça café and had a little coffee, which, cute.

So okay, this is the key of the Airbnb I stayed at, I had to be taught how to use it because I could lock anyone inside if I locked it a certain way, so essentially when I walked out, I’d just close the door and it was locked.

I asked the Airbnb person for a spot to watch the game Barça was playing that day –I had figured if I couldn’t watch Real Madrid, at least I could see FCB in person, but because I have shit luck, they were also playing an away game… so I figured the next best thing was to go watch them play at a bar, with locals, and indeed was the best thing. I got a mojito, mozzarella sticks, but that wasn’t even the best thing. You know how as an English speaker, the English or Australian accent is hot? Well Spanish accent is that for my ears, you see the girl in front of me, the guy she was with did the most Spanish thing ever and said something along the lines “joder tío” (roughly translated to “fuck dude”), when a player missed a goal, I swear I almost squealed. Barcelona lost that game against Almeria, 1-0, so the fans were not happy. It was unfortunate but regardless the atmosphere was on-point.

Part II consisted of days three and four, so I will finish this trip on a third blog as to not make it overly long and bore you to death. But for your information, the last leg of the trip was excellent it’s soooooo worth it to stay tuned.

As Always,

With Love,

Carolyn

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Spain: Motherland Part I

One of my bucket list countries was Spain, the possibility presented itself for my 29th birthday in 2023. I wanted to see as much as possible, so I planned for an arrival in Madrid, I’d go around for 3-4 days, make a day trip to Toledo and I’d take a train to Barcelona, and fly back from there.

My trip started on February 22, 2023, I wanted to be IN Spain during my birthday and not traveling so I left a few days early. One thing I do to avoid jet lag, specially when crossing the pond, is to take a late flight, arrive to my destination in the morning, and just survive through the day and sleep at the appropriate destination time. This particular flight departed at 6:30pm from Pittsburgh international airport, had a stop in Philadelphia and then on to Madrid. One thing to note about me is I HATE flying. I know, I know, for someone that hates flying I fly a lot. I like getting to a destination, but not the how. I get air sick, I get dizzy, it’s very very uncomfortable, my body very much hates flying. It’s not even that I’m big for the seats —I have actually lost enough fat that I fit pretty comfortably in the seat, it’s that I’m fucking tall, doesn’t matter what, my knees are almost always hitting the front seat. And I’m too cheap to pay for an upgraded seat. So I just take it. I’m a masochist, I know.

It was like a six hour flight from Philadelphia, it was 8pm by the time we flew out, so I got my plane snacks and slept. I don’t sleep very well on flights (read everything in the previous paragraph as to why haha), but I’m also a nervous flyer, and that reflects on food with me, so I’ll always eat so. Fucking. Much. I’d just be hungry the entire time. It’s fucking insane. Anyway, I arrived at 9am in Madrid.

First thing I did was find food. I arrived at this little cafe close to where my Airbnb was, ordered a tomato toast (bear with me). It’s puréed tomato, you spread it on the bread and pour in some olive oil and put a dash of salt. I was skeptical, but omg. To this day I make my version of this and fucking hell, it’s great.

But I couldn’t have my toast with a little cafecito, could I?

I finally got my hotel at around 12pm, I recouped, and went out, I had a quick lunch because that toast was not enough food. This Reuben was sooo good, I mean honestly, I didn’t eat anything that wasn’t good.

After lunch, the next stop was the Royal Palace of Madrid, it was open in 1751, so it has been open for 273 years at this point, it is the official residence of the Spanish Royal Family, but they just use it for state ceremonies now.

There was so much art inside, it is a huge a building and I am a sucker for old buildings. I don’t have a lot of pictures, I’m pretty sure we weren’t able to take pictures at some spots.

But let me tell you that the view from the Palace… was mesmerizing, it was also super breezy. And there’s me, living my best life, looking pretty good and on no sleep.

Next to the Palace, there is the Almudena Cathedral and the Plaza de Armería which is a very nice walkable area between the Palace and Cathedral. I don’t really practice religion but I love cathedrals, so I visit them everywhere I go.

I couldn’t leave Madrid without seeing the place where my dear football team celebrates, the lady Cybele, the Cibeles Fountain and Palace.

My next stop was the Prado Museum and I did not take any pictures except this fit check (RIP to the phone… more on that later).

More food because Spain you know?! I love croquettes and I don’t eat them nearly enough, like very time I have a layover in Miami airport I am VERY excited because there is a Cuban restaurant there and their ham croquettes are excellent. These Spanish ones were very good as well.

Talking about Cuba… it reads “Motherland and life, down with dictatorship” and it’s a beautiful country I’d like to visit one day. Spain colonized a lot of countries in Latin America, Puerto Rico being one of them, they killed and maimed people and civilizations, they enslaved people from African countries, brought them to the west, far from their families and everything they’ve known. I go into some detail about Spain and Puerto Rico (and the subsequent sale to the US), you can read more about it here.

More coffee because, you know.

They make this omelette with potatoes inside let me tell youuuuuu (I showed it twice because it was that good). Okay more food because food is life. Iberian Ham, bread, crushed tomatoes and churros. I fucking love churros.

Okay, enough about food (for now), my next stop was Toledo, to get to there, a train is your best bet, these are high speed trains mind you, the trip the drive is about an hour, in train that is around 36 minutes.

The trip there was uneventful, but once I got off the train… I got welcomed by a very beautiful station. I LOVE stained glass, which is a big reason of why I love going to churches, many of them in Europe have them. Toledo was under islamic rule at one point in time which explains why the station looks the way it does — particularly the inside.

But I hadn’t even gotten to the best part yet… This is close, but it gives you an idea of what Toledo looks like. It is a very old city, about two thousand years of history.

It is a bit of a walk from the station to the entrance of Toledo, but at the end of this bridge you’re met with this beautiful tower. And then when you take a look back, this (right image) the view you get.

This is the side view of the bridge, like I said, stunning every step I took. No regrets in going to Toledo. Except maybe that I should have 1. brought better shoes and 2. That I should have hired a tour guide to get the better views, specifically since this was just a day trip.

More of that islamic influence I mentioned before:

I LOVE walking, I end up getting 20k+ steps when I’m on trips like this. But Toledo, I was NOT prepared for. Not only it was a long walk from the station (~20mins) there was this… it’s a lot steeper than it looks like.

And it didn’t stop once I got to the top…

My first stop in Toledo was Santa Cruz museum, it is an art, archeology museum, and it includes works by El Greco, a famous greek painter of the Spanish Renaissance.

There was so much art here, I’ll compile a few of my favorite ones.

One thing that I love –if you haven’t noticed is architecture. This is the center of the museum, there is this huge sky light, I’m in love with ceilings like this one.

Something that you’ll see often in older Spanish buildings (and there are a few in Puerto Rico as well) is indoor gardens or patios. So the tour of the museum continued.

Next stop was Alcázar of Toledo, a fortification, which is in the highest spot of Toledo, it used to be a Roman palace (it even hosted Hernán Cortés after the Aztecs “conquest” aka genocide). It was very interesting and mind boggling to see all this new architecture carefully placed over the old one, and how it just worked.

More food because all this walking made me hungry asf. Chicken, eggs and French fries, good, whatever salad it was, good, coke (even Coke Zero) tastes better in a glass container, trust me, and I couldn’t leave without dessert, a marzipan cake and more coffee — are you surprised I got even more coffee?

My view from the fort.

I loved walking out and finding this huge Spanish flag. It felt surreal that I was in Spain after wanting to visit for so long.

This was day two (out of six) of my trip to Spain and this is longer than I was expecting but there are still soooo many other places I want to share with you guys that one post won’t be enough. Soooo, stay tuned for parts two (and maybe three?).

As always,

With Love,

Carolyn

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Down bad

Now I’m down bad crying at the gym

-Taylor Swift

I gained close to 50lbs during COVID, part of it was me getting depressed so I stayed in bed —a lot, it was not a fun time. By September 2021, I was tired of eating fast/junk food and I found these meal replacement protein shakes, and started substituting my meals with that. I had no weight loss goals in mind, I was just trying to eat better, fast forward to February of 2022, I had lost about 27lbs. So from 342lbs, I got 315lbs! I wanted to keep the ball going but knowing I wasn’t eating enough with the protein shakes I officially set up a goal of eating better, and I started counting calories, I still ate sweets and junk food, but everything in moderation, something I learned about myself is that if I’m to get to my goals, I need to indulge because cutting things out completely will just make me binge. I started going to the gym, this time around, instead of beating myself up for a missed day, I’d just suck it up and make it the next day. Or if I ate junk food and overpassed my calorie intake for the day… I stopped beating myself up. It made everything so much better. In July I was weighing 276lbs! 66lbs less.

I finished grad school and started working and it was hard to juggle work and gym, going in to work as early as I had to, made it hard to go to the gym, as a morning person, I prefer to work out in the morning. So I didn’t step a foot in the gym for three months, I was still counting calories, but I played fast and loose with it and gained ten pounds, 286lbs. Did I feel upset? Yes. Did I beat myself up? No. Three months into my job I pulled into a CrossFit gym. I had been wanting to do CrossFit for a few years but always figured I was too fat for that (and a “friend” had laughed at me years prior when I had mentioned wanting to try it out). It’s something I had been postponing until I was “fitter”. I’d see the videos and think: “there’s no way in hell I can do that, they’d make fun of me if I tried”. Gym culture is very toxic in nature, either you’re in or you’re not. September of 2022, I went to one of the CrossFit gym that Google showed near me. I remember walking in, scared of judgment. The front desk was empty: “we’re in the back” a sign read. So to the back I walked. I didn’t see anyone so I asked the first person I found who I could talk with, they pointed me to someone. I ended up finding her but she was about to start a class and told me to make an appointment. I walked out of there slightly upset. “Does she know how much of my will power it took me to get here?!” I walked to my car, not knowing if this was the last time I’d be there. Sometime in the next few hours, I went to the website and booked an appointment for the next day. I walked in next afternoon, again very nervous. A coach greets me very ecstatic: “give me a moment I’m just finishing this class”. I tell him it’s not a problem, I was there early. The trainer welcomed me and explained me the classes they had available, then turned to me and asked me what I was aiming for. I explained my weight loss with calorie counting and how I wanted to do CrossFit, just to be active, at this point I was even more nervous, he could laugh at my face, “a fat person wanting to do CrossFit? Are you fucking insane?”, except, he didn’t do that. With the same straight face and respect he had shown me so far, he said “yeah, you can do that!” He gave me the option of signing up on the spot, or going home and ponder about it. I didn’t want to sit on it for too long because I would not do it. I went home thought about it and the next day I pulled the plug, sent them a text and told them I was in. First day of class I was very intimidated, nervous, scared. Why? Judgement, scared I’d be made fun of, “the fat girl is trying to do CrossFit”. It turned out I had nothing to fear, the same warm welcome I was shown on that orientation day, it’s what I have received day after day, from the trainers, from the people…it turns out I love the challenge CrossFit gives me, it pushes me to my limits and makes it fun for me. And by being challenging and not monotonous, it makes it better for me to keep doing it, I used to get bored of the same exercises before and that played a part on why I never kept working out for long as well as the unrealistic expectations on weight loss

That first week there was some rowing involved and I remember looking to my left and this really pretty girl I was intimidated by, she looks at me and asks me if I’m new, I tell her it’s been a week, and she says something like “welcome! It never stops sucking” and I laughed nervously. Almost two years now and she wasn’t wrong. As soon as something is too easy you make it harder. So it never stops sucking but you’re getting stronger.

I started saying I didn’t have weight loss goals and that was true. Nine years ago, heck, three years ago having the scale plateau would have kept me from going to the gym, I had unrealistic expectations on what was a reasonable timeline. Now, I’ve been the same weight for the past two years, but my clothes fit better, I feel better, I can do things I couldn’t before. I lift more, I’m stronger. I stopped measuring my progress with what the number on the scale was and started seeing other things as progress. I think that’s what’s kept me doing it for so long. I’m a gym rat (cries). I never thought I’d be one. And it’s not only making me feel better it’s helped me get through some tough times. I’ve been stressed out, heartbroken but even while crying about whatever I’m upset about, I’ve put on my clothes and gone to the gym. And my problems are not magically solved but I don’t feel like shit for a few hours. Every little bit helps.

I was motivated for about three months with CrossFit. I started doing three days a week and went all the way up to six days. Eventually I settled on four to five. Sometimes I go in on my days off to do an active rest day if you will, I do some mobility, and stretches. I mention motivation because the truth is I don’t like working out. If I could be strong without it, I wouldn’t do it. But now my body craves it, I enjoy how it makes me feel so I keep doing it, what I’m trying to say is that right now, what gets me to the gym is not (exactly) motivation it’s discipline. Motivation doesn’t last very long and also part of why people quit.

My motivational Ted talk of the day is, find something you enjoy doing and do that. You don’t need to have weight loss goals, just moving and eating better, will help you feel better. I’m not discouraging weight loss whatsoever. I’m just saying to not obsess with that, it’s easy to lose your motivation and discipline when it feels it’s not doing anything. But getting stronger is not nothing. Each time I can lift more —or even feel/see my muscles I get reminded why I’m still doing it. I’m fucking sore all the time. But the alternative is not being able to move and I’d much rather be sore which is something I can make better with stretches and working out than not being able to make it upstairs. I don’t like that phrase “choose your hard” because it’s not that easy, but for me this is one of those “choose your hard”.

As always

With love,

Carolyn

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This is me trying

“I’ve been having a hard time adjusting… I have a lot of regrets about that.”

-Taylor Swift

I had never seen a therapist until a good friend of mine passed away back in 2017, and I was in a foreign city, by myself with no support system. Since then I understood the importance of talking things through with someone that can help. I’m a therapist’s dream, I talk so fucking much.

Unfortunately finding a good one is hard, I changed therapists twice because I felt I wasn’t getting anything from it, she just listened and never challenged me or helped me understand things. After searching I found one I loved, only to have her change jobs and unfortunately does not see patients anymore. So the search for a new one was an uphill battle but I made it.

I think it was match made in heaven because for one, she’s named like one character from my favorite show. She listens when she needs to but she also makes me think about things. In the time we’ve known each other I feel she’s gotten a good sense of who I am as a person, like I’ll walk in and she senses my mood is off asks me if need a hug, and she never misses.

“And maybe I don’t quite know what to say

But I’m here in your doorway

I just wanted you to know

This is me trying”

I went to her about this whole ordeal with Jack (if you missed my previous two blog posts go here and here), she said she has never seen me that down (my friend said the same thing), that’s just me overwhelmed by life, this situation with Jack isn’t exactly making things better, on top of that the pottery studio I’ve been throwing clay is closing (I’ll talk about this at a later time), which is a new hobby where I had the space to channel some time and energy into, all of it feels like the end of the world.

I know that’s not necessarily true and it’s just one of those when it rains it pours kind of situations and it’s hard to control the emotions when you feel problems coming back to back with no end in sight. That’s why I have been channeling some of that stress into the gym, working out for longer, my body is exhausted about the extra work but the dopamine really helps ground me.

Until I sat down that day, all my therapist knew was that I had some fun with Jack who I had gone out on a date with months prior, and that that was all it was, fun. I updated her on the realization I had that I wanted more than that because how he made me feel. I showed her conversations between the two of us and she thinks he could be thinking things through, I did spring brand new information on him and maybe he can’t make the switch that quick (plus he started seeing someone, fuck my life) — which is fair. I’m at a point in my life where if you’re not sure of me, I’ll just fuck off, I have no time for someone unsure of me, but for this, for him, I am making an exception. Why? Because I said no first, I was unsure first, I came around and hopefully he will too, but I don’t know that, I am not necessarily waiting as much as I’m letting time pass. If he comes around and the feelings are still there, we pursue things, if they’re not then we don’t or maybe he never comes around. That’s the shitty thing about life, there is a lot of uncertainty.

“And it’s hard to be at a party when

I feel like an open wound

It’s hard to be anywhere these days

when all I want is you”

As I sat down on her couch, I told her I’d be hugging a cushion and holding onto the tissue box, I’ve cried on her couch before, but I think this is the first time I’ve walked in teared up and had a hard time getting coherent words out. She listened, then gave her advice. I blamed myself for the situation I found myself in with Jack, if I had just seen him last year like I am now, maybe we could have had a good relationship, instead I concerned myself with thinking I knew what would happen if we dated. At the time I was heartbroken and I was trying to avoid feeling that way again, so I skipped it altogether. Big mistake, because I was now regretting it.

The thought that keeps playing around in my head is that if that asshole made me lose out on a great person, I’d be so upset, Peter left me very heartbroken, it took months and a lot of situations for me to get over it. I am often told “what’s for you won’t pass you by” and that may be true but it’s never helped the uncertainty or given me comfort. I never thought I’d see Jack that way, not because of who he is, just because of who I was. Who I was changed, so I changed how I saw him. And because life is shitty, the timing’s off.

A big thing that’s fucking me up big time is that Jack is someone I vent to, when something’s shitty, when work stresses me out, when a date goes wrong, and he’ll make a joke to try to make me feel better, or be sweet and tell me it’s going to be okay that one day we’ll find someone who’s crazy about us. You know the shitty thing about liking a friend? You kind of lose them, the relationship changes, he’s there for me but I can’t exactly be a good friend to him can I? Specially when he’s seeing someone. Add to that that he can’t read a room for shit because I was clear on not wanting to know anything about who he’s seeing and after a “how are you?” text, he tells me he’s driving home from a city about an hour from him, and that prompted me to ask “what’s there?”, and he replies with “the girl I’m seeing”. Cue tears and regrets aiming to overwhelm me again.

I did all I could do with Jack, as in, I told him how I felt, I was direct (and naughty) about it, just so he knew I meant business, so he knew that I wasn’t just smitten —because I’m not, so he knew that I was a damn fool for missing him the first time around. I was clear so he knew I wanted him. After that, there’s not much I can do. Ball’s in his court. All I can do is sit back and stress about it, if you know anything about me is I can’t sit back and relax.

Just before I left the session, my therapist gave me homework, she asked me to make a list of five things as to why this situation with Jack is not all my fault. I felt attacked so my response was “me? take the blame for everything? NoOOo.” We laughed, because it’s exactly what I do and what I’m doing right now. She said that relationship (whether, that’s friends, between a therapist and a patient, romantic, etc.) stuff doesn’t all fall on one person, it falls on both. So I had to sit down to ponder, why isn’t it all my fault? It certainly feels like it, we went out, had a great time, and I didn’t give it time, we didn’t see each other in person again for me to know if we should or should not pursue things, I just made a decision based on little information.

But the question remained in my head. The first thing I thought of was that I didn’t know and to be honest, still don’t know, if he was/is into me. Having fun together means nothing in this regard, many women (and men) make that mistake, something can just be physical and not mean anything more than that. If I’m being quite honest it didn’t mean much to me either, it was just a good time, it just happened that it took that for me to realize I wanted more but it wasn’t due to one good time. I remember his sweet text after I told him I didn’t/couldn’t pursue things further and thinking maybe I made a mistake. He flirted more with me after we called it off than during. In his words “If I’m being quiet and awkward I’m actually trying to figure out how to flirt” —which was all of our date if I’m being honest (remember this is the guy that shook my hand after our date). I want to think that if I knew he was into me, I would have thought twice before calling it off. I wouldn’t think I’m one to reject someone I think is cute even if I wasn’t feeling yet at the time. I also have to think about how our first date went, it was something like me asking if he was ever going to ask me out and within the hour we were out at a bar, but after that he didn’t ask me out, so I didn’t think the interest was there. Could I be wrong? Yes. Could I have asked him? Yes. So how is it really not my fault? I don’t know.

This is what my list looks like:

  1. I didn’t know if he was interested in me
  2. He didn’t initiate dates
  3. I don’t know
  4. I really think it’s my fault
  5. I don’t know if my therapist is right on this one

I don’t think I know more than she does but it’s hard to see it any other way. But I’m also in the midst of it so I understand not seeing it from someone else’s point of view.

Regret is a very painful thing, on the one hand, Jack deserves someone who cares for him and if the person he’s seeing is that person, then I’ll be happy for him, and my feelings will go away, but on the other hand, I’m mad/sad/jealous that that person is not me. How can I tell him that I’m happy for him with a straight face when I don’t mean it? I do but I don’t.

Can I just wish upon a start? Or make my 11:11 wish that he sees me like I see him?

Will it work? Probably not.

As always,

With love,

Carolyn

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The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived and Back to November Part II

“So this is me swallowing my pride, standing in front of you, saying I’m sorry for that night and I go back to December all the time.”

-Taylor Swift

Summary from Part I: dated an asshole, Peter, and met Jack, a very sweet guy who I only wanted as friend a the time for superficial reasons on my end. We talked about having sex and I ended up at his place.

Jack and I discussed beforehand of what was/wasn’t allowed. We talked why we wanted to go through with it with the other, my answer was simple, I trust you, and we can have some fun, his was “I like to help my friends” (asshole lmao). I got to his place, brought snacks, got acquainted with each other again, it had been about seven months since we had seen each other in person.

We bantered while hanging out on the couch, I played with his dog who likes to fetch, and LOVES butt scratches. His cat made an occasional appearance. His place was clean and organized which is a green flag for me, and even has flowers on his counter top, I gave him shit about it but I secretly liked it.

Every step of the way, he respected my yes and my no, it felt good, I felt calm, comfortable, I wasn’t anxious, or stressed. We laughed so much through it, I’d say it felt like it wasn’t the first time. All of that, the respect, kindness, gentleness, making me feel comfortable, was new. Something underrated that I wasn’t expecting to like or enjoy that much? Jack moved me like I weighted nothing, I fucking swear I felt like a feather, holy shit. Last guy I went out with (Peter) I was full of anxiety, I never felt calm, I thought the anxiety was my brain thinking I wasn’t good enough for him, and it was me fighting against those feelings. In hindsight I learned that my anxiety was my nervous system telling me he wasn’t my person or good enough for me.

“So if the chain is on your door, I understand.”

Sharing this experience with a friend of mine, she asked “why don’t you date Jack? If he has all the qualities you’re looking in someone?” I regurgitated the original reasoning I had made seven months prior, I hadn’t updated that thought of why not, we wouldn’t work out, period. He and I had had the conversation before. But this time, it was different, the question reverberated inside my brain. “Why don’t I date him?” I pondered on it, thought of his kindness the months following our date, through my failed dates, the death of my childhood dog, or any time I felt crappy, he’d send me funny snaps, in hopes of cheering me up. And it worked. He makes me laugh, makes me roll my eyes when he keeps teasing, he annoys the heck out of me on a daily basis. But he also grounds me, makes me feel calm, respected, protected, and safe.

When I went out with him for the first time, I had been dumped a month prior by someone who I felt all the fireworks for. I didn’t with Jack, I thought that was a bad thing, but now I know that’s what I’m craving, peace and calmness. I don’t need the fireworks, all that’s ever done for me is put my nervous system on high alert. I’ve had enough of that, and what I need now is calm and security.

The day after we hung out, he told me his ex reached out, saying she missed him. So we paused our adventure. I wasn’t thrilled. As a matter of fact I was upset about her terrible timing, plus she broke up with him in the shittiest way ever and now she misses him? Pleaseeee. As neutral as I could be, knowing it benefited me but wanting to be careful, I told him he shouldn’t. He deserves someone who sees him and respects him and she’s not it. He knew but he was still on the fence.

We made plans to see each other on a Friday night, for movie and food at his place. Only once I got there, it ended up being me watching the movie alone because he fell asleep, and slept on me for part of it. Apparently, sleeping between my legs and using my thigh as a cushion is very comfortable. I stroked his hair and none of this felt weird, uncomfortable, I swear it felt like the most natural thing in the world. Hours later he apologized for falling asleep, and I left so he could actually sleep and not wake up every thirty minutes.

And I pondered. And pondered. Fuck, how did I miss it? How the fuck did I miss it? I missed it because he doesn’t fit the box of what my person looks like, I missed it because I was hung up on someone else, I missed it because I wasn’t expecting to feel a certain way about him. I missed it because I didn’t feel the fireworks with him, which is what I thought I should feel for someone I wanted to date. And it snuck up on me, I want to date him, I want him for myself, I want his strong arms around me, I want to him to throw me around as if I was as light as a feather, maybe we don’t work out or maybe we do, but I won’t know until I go through with it.

“Maybe this is wishful thinking

Probably mindless dreaming

But if we loved again,

I swear I’d love you right”

Since his ex coming back was recent I decided to wait. It really wouldn’t work if he was hung up on someone. One day I ask him if he told her to kick rocks, he tells me they’re done, subsequently by telling me he’s met someone that seems into him. And my world shattered. Fuck. And I didn’t want to let the opportunity pass me again so I told him how I felt. He questioned it. Which is fair. I told him we were better off as friends several times in the past, that we wouldn’t work. I wasn’t expecting him to drop everything for me, but I thought he’d consider it. In the nicest way ever his response was a “not now”. Which of course means I have to get over it and move on because I can’t wait on a maybe and I told him as much.

I have no idea what he feels about my sudden confession, does he hate me? Is he glad? Does he want me to go back to no feelings? I don’t know, he chose to keep his cards close to his chest on this one. Maybe he’s really feeling this new person and is trying to protect me? I do not know. All I know is that it is not happening right this second, I just hope the universe doesn’t put us in a situation where he’s there and I’m not and we keep missing each other.

I don’t usually regret but I fear this time the regret will eat me alive. I had the opportunity to coincide with a great person and I let him go. I had to find a venue in which to channel all the energy I suddenly had and had nowhere to put, so I chose the gym, I’m already a gym rat but I’m doing extra credit, I found out that dopamine really helps with stress. For the foreseeable future that extra credit is what will help me keep my sanity, either until my feelings go away or he changes his mind, something will give, I do not know which one though.

And if you’re reading this, thank you, you’ve been a constant for me these past few months, you make me laugh when I feel bad, you send me silly little videos, or cute doggy and kitty videos, or maybe you’re just your annoying self which makes me roll my eyes or those flirty videos that make me want to drop everything and step into your doorstep. I feel that regardless of what happens, we’ll be standing at the end of the tunnel, laughing at something silly you said.

If nothing else, this was a lesson, to not judge a book by its cover, your person doesn’t necessarily look like you think they will and you should be open to what life brings your way. But also that you won’t necessarily feel the butterflies and that is okay, butterflies doesn’t mean good or lack of them means bad. Calm is good.

That’s the story on how I went from wanting the smallest man who ever lived to wanting to go back to November to make it all right.

As always,

With Love,

Carolyn

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The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived and Back to November Part I

“Who the fuck was that guy?” -Taylor Swift

I tend to pride myself on not having regrets. The usual way I approach things is that I did the best I could with the information I had and there’s no need to regret things. Because of that I’m the type of person that decides to go for it, just so she doesn’t regret it later. I’m a firm believer in “you regret the things you didn’t do more than the ones you did”.

I think it’s worked out for me so far… until now anyway.

Last year I started seeing someone (Electric Touch dude, let’s call him Peter), I felt he was way out of my league, cute, tall, and green eyes. He seemed into me, stole kisses and touches here and there. I thought it was the start of a beautiful relationship. Newsflash, it wasn’t. In the words of Queen Swift: “I don’t even want you back I just want to know, if rusting sparkling summer was the goal”. It was arguably one of the hardest thing I’ve had to get over. This time I hadn’t imagined a whole relationship with someone based on nothing, I hadn’t thought they liked me, this time he said he did, he said he’d catch me, and when push came to shove, he didn’t. I was “too much”, where have I heard that before? Hmm.

There’s a saying we use in Puerto Rico “un clavo no saca otro clavo” which says that a nail cannot drive out another nail —what it refers to is that you can’t heal from a broken heart by going out with someone else. But that’s (kind of) what I did —or tried to.

I hyperfixate, and being hurt I wasn’t able to think about anything else and wanted something else to occupy my mind. I thought if I got myself out there it would help. I was —and am, on a quest to date outside of the imaginary box I built of how my person is supposed to look like, which is typically tall, lean, and light-skinned (I know okay? That’s been a running joke with my friends that I like generic white boys and I even get “these white men are dangerous” memes from them 😂). Most of everyone that I’ve gone out on dates with fits this description.

One day I am scrolling through dating apps and I come across this profile, let’s call him Jack, and I think that he’s cute, has a cute dog, likes cats —I liked all of those, it’s particularly hard to find a man that likes both cats and dogs. Has tattoos, and lifts. It was hard to tell from the pictures but he seemed to be a big guy which is not something I usually go for but I wanted to give it a shot. We went out one night, played pool, he gave me shit about something, and we spend a lot of time laughing. He came to the date with joggers, a green hoodie, and sandals with socks, while I wore an extra high waisted jean, and a felt/see through bodysuit, with makeup and earrings. I’m pretty sure he beat me in pool. We walked out of the bar to my car, I think I was giving him shit about his height, about being shorter than me, and to prove he wasn’t, he placed his phone against something, put a timer and stood behind me for a picture (does he still have that picture? I don’t know). I thought he was going to kiss me at the end of the date, I was nervous, but he shook my hand and hugged me. SHOOK MY HAND. I still give him shit about that.

The date was fun one, we seemed to kind of click. But once I got home, I bursted into tears. I clearly was not over Peter, and I knew that, I just didn’t realize it was going to hit me that bad. As I kept talking about Jack to my friend, she thought he and I wouldn’t work, I made sure to pay attention, particularly because of how on-point she was about Peter, ultimately about two weeks later I realized she was right. On top of that, Jack wanted to date and I didn’t feel ready for that. So, I let him know I had a good time but I didn’t think we should pursue things further.

Jack is such a sweet and kind person that all he told me was that it was okay and we should be friends. He said (and I quote): “you’re a very intelligent and strong willed woman and I’d love to keep talking to you”. And that’s what we did. I went onto date other people as he did.

We’d talk about people we were dating. Giving each other advice. One thing we always did was flirt. Exclusively when we weren’t in relationships, and if they crapped out, we’d resume, but we were always respectful to the partners. It was just playful banter. I didn’t seen him since we went on that date, but we kept in touch, we’d Snapchat, and even video chatted once. We had been playing around with the idea of having sex, we were both single, and trusted each other so why not? This time it turned into a serious conversation and I ended up at his place.

This is story is not over — it’s just paused, I didn’t want to lose you over a long ass blog post, so stay tuned for Part II.

As always,

With Love,

Carolyn

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Electric Touch

Just breathe, just relax, it’ll be okay…
I’ve got my money on things going badly
Got a history of stories ending sadly
Still hoping that the fire won’t burn me
Just one time, just one time

Taylor Swift

I like to think that I am someone who has a very bright and positive outlook on life. Except when it comes to relationships, I haven’t had “luck”. I have come across men that see just how good, motivated, driven I am but none of them want to rise to my level to keep me in their lives and they’d rather just walk away. In hindsight, some of them wouldn’t have made good partners, something I didn’t notice at the time, but they have made good friends.

It’s been an uphill battle for me to feel and know that I am worthy of love, I grew up feeling like no one would like me, much less love me, because I was fat or because I was “too much”. More than once I heard things like “men don’t like that”, as if I needed to cater to them. Saw many movies in which the fat characters were the comedic relief. In others the women that had high standards were regarded too much, or if they had careers they were the single, drunk, fun aunt. Women had to take up the least amount of space, not be needy, couldn’t speak their mind, otherwise no one would want to have a relationship with them. At a lot of points in my life I have been made to feel like I was not good enough.

I find that I write when I’m at extremes, either I am not feeling great or I am feeling my best. Right now, I am in the middle, it feels like both the worse and the best moment.

All I know is this could either break my heart or bring it back to life
Got a feeling your electric touch could fill this ghost town up with life
And I want you now, wanna need you forever
In the heat of your electric touch

Taylor Swift

In “Electric Touch” Taylor Swift talks about how it just takes one time to get “it” right. She also goes into talking about how she hopes that this time the fire won’t burn her. This relationship will either break her heart or bring it back to life. This song is very on-point with how I’m feeling at this moment. I lost my hope that I’ll find my person, people that I love tell me over and over how when I’m least expecting it they will pop up. That hasn’t happened so far. I have worked on myself, I am at a better place than I was last year, for example. I found myself, I don’t let society’s standards of beauty dictate what I wear, who I date, how I feel about myself. I heard that once I did those things that person would come. I didn’t do it for that imaginary person, I did it for myself, and boy is it better to love yourself despite what others say rather than hate everything about yourself, but they haven’t arrived. He hasn’t arrived.

As I was about to give up on finding someone, I met someone, someone who compliments me, wants me, likes me. Meeting this person, going out on dates, kissing them, made me have hope, maybe I have found my person, I knew it was too early to determine anything but it gave me hope. It happened very quick, I had never clicked that fast with someone, we went out for the first time. I got to the restaurant first, got us a table, and then as soon as he sat down, he grabbed my hands. At first it felt awkward, weird, but mostly my heart was trying to fall off my chest, then it felt normal, natural as if we had been doing it forever, as if it wasn’t the first time. During dinner, we talked about our likes, working out, our lives, he complimented my outfit, my accessories, it just made me blush and he loved it. He paid for the bill, we decided to walk around after eating and I wanted to change my shoes, as I was wearing heels and they’re definitely not made to walk, just before I sat down to swap them, he turned me towards him and kissed me. It was unexpected but felt very nice. I swear I felt I was in a movie, you know the scene, two characters are on a date, and he grabs her arm and in slow motion, spins her towards him so he can meet her lips, holds her hips and pulls them towards him as he deepens the kiss. That’s how it felt. During the night he stole a lot more kisses and it felt like the most natural thing in the world. We didn’t feel like strangers.


As we were navigating things, this person realized that maybe he wasn’t ready to offer me what I deserved. Which shattered the shred of hope I had. At the same time I realized I had my own anxieties in relationships which made me understand maybe I wasn’t as ready for a relationship as much as I wanted it. As we were both learning about ourselves in a relationship, we decided to keep navigating things together and as we kept hanging out we found out how much we liked each other. We hit road bumps for sure, I am a very outgoing motivated person, he’s much more reserved. Our first fight, we pushed a lot of buttons, unknowingly of course. But we both felt we could get to a point we were both comfortable, we both want to keep the other around and we want to make it work.

My hope was that I didn’t get burned, I am tired of having people to come into my life just for me to learn a lesson, I can be happy and learn a lesson, those things are not exclusive. I gave it my best effort, yet it wasn’t enough. All the sweetness, all the stolen kisses, ended up being a lie. He thought we’d be a good match and he went all in — found out we weren’t and after giving me the high, left me. Even though I was clear time and time again that we should take things slow.

If anything is a lesson here — never let people walk over your boundaries. Be skeptical, it’s easy to miss the red flags. It’s easy to mistake the lack of peace, the stress and anxiety with something else. I thought all the bad feelings were my thoughts of not being enough, when in reality, it was my body’s way of protecting me by letting me know he wasn’t my person, I know better now. And I will do better.

To you, fuck you. You disguised yourself as this sweet, kind guy when in reality you’re the worst kind of man.

I got burned and it was the best thing that could have happened to me.

P.S. I have had this in my queue for monthssss, it was time to polish it and publish it.

As always,

With love (except you),

Carolyn

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I’m the problem, it’s me.

I’m the problem, it’s me.

When you don’t look like society’s standard of beauty you grow up being ridiculed because you’re “too fat” or whatever attribute they deemed ugly, it would get pointed out. At one point in my life I weighed 150lbs, and I remember feeling too fat, too ugly, too little. Mom and sister both were skinny, I was the only fat one. Dad was fat as were a lot of the men in my life, but for some reason they’re not held to the same standards. I felt inadequate. They couldn’t relate. It didn’t help that everyone around me would make the same idiotic comments: “Carolyn, you’re fat, that’s not healthy for you. Maybe you should lose it.” Well gee Aunt Tina, I did not know that fact, thanks for letting me know! My parents were no better, and I get that the comments from certain people were coming from a place of love, and care. But at the same time, when they’re 1. Unsolicited and 2. Given without any solution, the comments are useless. I own a mirror, I know I’m fat and I know it’s not healthy. None offered to join me in a gym, none cooked healthier foods for me (when I was a minor and not in charge of my own meals of course). I always figured there’d be a time where I’d go to the gym and I’d lose the weight. Only problem is that I always postponed that. For whatever reason, I’d always find an excuse. Not one of my greatest moments. Looking back when I was “fat”, I was quite literally a few pounds away from a healthy weight. I’ve been suggested Herbalife, I’ve been criticized for how much butter I put on a toast… think of criticism, I’ve probably gotten it.

I’m the problem, it’s me

Taylor Swift

Since I have memory I have always wanted to be skinny. Even when I was 150lbs. Whenever I look, at the rare pictures that exist, I could have lost a few pounds, was I as fat as I thought? No, absolutely not. I have always felt I needed to lose the weight to feel good with myself. Until I lost it I wouldn’t feel good. I didn’t like feeling inadequate, ugly, fat, or that I was taking up too much space. At several points in my life I have joined gyms. I would go, highly pumped… for a whole month, and because I wouldn’t see results in that short time, I would get discouraged and I stopped going. I was expecting results in a month for something that had been years in the making. None of the people that would critique me ever joined me. All encouraged me from afar, no one put their money where their mouth was. I’m not proud of the times I quit, but it is what it is.

I’m not proud I quit, but it is what it is.

Circa 2008. What the fuck am I wearing? 😭 I was living in a tropical island, it was hot. Why am I wearing and ugly ass shirt and an ugly ass jacket? Don’t get me started on those baggy jeans… Oh and you can’t see the hair, but that’s another hot mess.

I always had this idea that fat = ugly and I felt bad about myself, I just wanted to hide. I hated cameras! There’s evidence of those times, but not a lot (hence the really bad cropped pictures I am showing here), I really lost a lot of memories because I didn’t like capturing my fatness, I didn’t want to be reminded at the time. That’s how bad I felt about myself. And it’s sad, no one should be made to feel like that. I look at pictures of my friends in high school and I’m not in a lot of them, I would take them but I’d never be in them. And the ones that do exist I look fucking terrible. For fuck’s sake, I would dress so bad. But that only speaks to the level of confidence I had at the time, which was essentially none. Oh and on top of it I’m tall for a woman, so not only was I fat, I was very tall, everything about me was very difficult to hide. It pains me to look back at those pictures, not because I was fat, but because I see that insecure little girl that never felt pretty enough because she was fat. I also missed out on so many things. I didn’t do a lot of things, I didn’t take enough pictures, I would wear the most hideous things ever, again, it’s very sad I lost so much because of that.

Sometimes I feel like everybody is a sexy baby
And I’m a monster on the hill
Too big to hang out
Slowly lurching toward your favorite city

Taylor Swift
Circa 2010. This wasn’t any better. Two shirts, a longer one hiding my arms, and then one on top? Why did I think this was okay?! Here the hair is more noticeable…

My confidence had always been close to zero, fat people can’t be pretty can they? So why would I feel any confidence? There’s not much representation of fat people in the media, no one looked like me. Insecurities built up, for me this translated into baggy clothes, long sleeves, layers of clothes all in order to hide the fat. Of course, I was not hiding anything, I was just looking fucking terrible in the process. I mean, that’s all looking at it retroactively, I am pretty sure at the time I thought I looked great. Well, never hot, I had never found myself looking hot, there are always Jennifer Annistons walking around, I could never measure… Even though I loved it, part of the reason I cut off my hair into a pixie cut (inspired from Ginnifer Goodwin), was because I would not know how to handle my long hair. I never felt I could do or wear “girly” stuff because I was fat, you’ll see that I looked like a tomboy for a hot second there, that’s all I felt comfortable in.

Circa 2017. I doubt I ever wore this dress outside without a jacket or a cardigan. I hated those arms.

There’s not a lot of fat people portrayed in the media, though we are seeing more each day, but not when I was a kid. Those that were, were just made fun of. Being fat is funny (sarcasm). The fat character was always the comic relief. They were never the love interest, they were the funny-reliable-relatable best friend. I never felt identified with any character on TV, the were not a lot of fat people, much less fat women. There’s this moment that replays in my mind every once in a while, I was in elementary school and girls are forced to wear skirts (even though pants cover up much better), very little schools allowed us to use pants, but even then, sometimes we couldn’t afford both the skirt and pants, so skirt it was… anyway, there was this kid I had a crush with, and I guess he knew, not sure, so I’m walking upstairs and if you were standing below them, you could see up all of our skirts, he’s standing below and looked up and said “eww”. It’s almost 20 years later and I still remember, that clearly scarred me. Outside of school I’d never wear a skirt, if I did certainly not one short enough that you could see my thighs (there were some rare occasions but just know I was very uncomfortable). I would never wear sleeveless shirts, or dresses, my bathing suits consisted of shorts and a shirt, I encountered many instances of going to a pool and having anxiety because it stated that bathing suits were required. I would always be wondering if I’d be allowed in or if in this instance I’d be kicked out. Wearing shirts with sleeves allowed me to hide my chubby arms, but who was I really fooling? You can still see it, you just can’t see the skin, my mind lied to me that this was better. First time I wore a sleeveless dress, that was just right above my knee was 2017/2018. I was 24 years old, this means I had basically spent most —if not all— of those 24 years, hiding my body. It also didn’t help that I was raised in a pretty strict-Christian household, it was nowhere near as strict as what my parents encountered when they were growing up, but strict. In the church, there seems to be this idea that to appear Christian, you have to look bland, I’d call it ugly, but I don’t know what they would call it. If I had a penny for the amount of people I saw looking the ugliest a person can look… I’d be rich. And this is not talking at all about their physical appearance, this is talking about their dress choices. I get that there’s modesty involved with being Christian but you can be modest and still look good, something the people I encountered growing up did not know, or chose to ignore, I’m not sure. What I am sure about is that I inherited insecurities from the adults around me, not necessarily on purpose but it’s what happens with people, we project our insecurities onto others. “Cross your legs, ladies do not sit like that” or “lower your skirt! There’s people around!” or my very favorite, the chaos whenever your bra strap slipped over, as if people didn’t know women wore bras…. And don’t get me wrong, we don’t want people looking up our clothes and we want to be modest but at the same time there shouldn’t be the taboo there is.

Circa 2018, Blue Lagoon. This is the only image I have of me ever wearing a bathing suit without any shorts. I did not want that documented.

Summer of 2018 I took an impromptu trip to Iceland, when I went to the Blue Lagoon I had a one piece bathing suit, one of the first times I had ever worn one. With a short pant of course, you can’t be showing thighs, fat thighs are ugly and no one wants to see that… my friend and I had to use bathrooms far from each other and she had my shorts in her bag, I can’t recall why. So when I’m putting my bathing suit on, I found I didn’t have the shorts with me, so I had to put my metaphorical big girl pants on and walk out wearing only the one piece bathing suit. By the time I found my friend, I had lost the shame and I decided to just not wear the shorts. I was still nervous when I went in and out of the water, but I did it. That was the first time I’ve ever worn a bathing suit without any cover up. It wouldn’t repeat itself until this year, but instead of a one piece, I wore a two piece, high waist bottoms, sure, but still. After a lifetime of feeling ashamed, in 2022, I finally felt comfortable in my own body. But I’ll get to that later. The summer of 2018 was important in my growth, it was the first time I had worn a sleeveless dress and a one-piece bathing suit without shorts. I would go to wear more dresses, makeup, especially a matte-red that everyone compliments on me. It also didn’t help that the world closed in 2020, I gained weight, lost the weight. I don’t like to think I’m the person that looks from validation from other people, but I am, though now that I know, I’m aiming to validate myself. I don’t need someone to find me pretty to feel pretty. That summer was also the first time that I liked someone and I wasn’t concerned about whether or not they wouldn’t like me because of my body. I was slowly shedding the insecurities.

2022, Puerto Rico. This woman is living her best life. You see that smile? I was also in Puerto Rico, my homeland, that I hadn’t seen in over two years. Wearing this two-piece bathing suit, short-less and very happy.

I was slowly shedding the insecurities.

Summer of 2022, I matched with a guy on a dating app, I wasn’t sure about him, too young, his profile pictures were terrible, but I decided to give it a shot. He was very attracted to me, and at any given point he’d let me know. This made me want to look pretty for him, I’d go on to dress up so he’d see how pretty I was. In doing so I started feeling myself. I started wearing things I would have never worn, I bought lingerie, leather skirts, bodysuits, I realized I had nice clothes, but there were even nicer things I could get. In my mind there was a line on what stuff fat people could and couldn’t use. Turns out it was a fucking lie. I found out I look smoking hot wearing a leather skirt, that it accentuated my fat? Yes, did I still wear it? Also yes. All of this was in part for him, that’s how it started but then somewhere along the way, it started being for myself and if he liked it was a huge plus. It felt very nice to be wanted. It took me a while to understand that it needed to be for me, rather than him, because it got to a point that I was looking for validation from him. He needed to tell me I looked hot, to feel hot. This was also the first time I looked at myself and thought I was hot, it was no longer a label exclusive for the Jennifer Anistons of the world. At the moment he withdrew his validation, I wavered, man did I waver… But then I found myself, I realized it had never been for him, it had been for me. His loss really. He met this very insecure woman and unknowingly allowed her to find herself and when he left, she was not the same person, again, his loss, who doesn’t want a woman that feels confidence in herself, her body whichever way it looks at any given point? I still want and like to be told I look good, who doesn’t? But I also don’t need it to feel myself or to wear something I like. I sent my aunt a picture and she replied with: “confidence looks good on you.” And that’s something I had never felt. I walked out in public wearing a leather bra, skirt, and a sheer top. I WOULD HAVE NEVER. But did I? You bet I did.

Carolyn, 2022, Toronto, Ontario. I am officially calling this the “Carolyn leather era” (sounds naughty in Spanish lol). See the difference? I am fucking feeling myself. I still feel a little conscious but fuck it.

Confidence looks good on you.

My aunt

Am I the problem? Abso-fucking-lutely not. The problem is society fucking up with anyone that’s not a size zero. This is not in any way of form criticism to size zeros, it’s to the people that tiered who deserves to be respected and who doesn’t. I deserve to feel happy wearing whatever I want to wear. I realized I gave people too much power, I get to decide how I feel about myself and no one gets to dictate what is good or bad for me. No one is walking in my shoes, I am, no one knows what I go through, what goes through my mind or what I am working towards.

2022. As I post this, I feel a little conscious about how you can see how my fat looks through this skirt, something I’ve spent years hiding. But I am deciding to concentrate on how fucking hot I look.

My goal with this post is to, hopefully, inspire you, if you’re anything like me, my best advice is to fuck all the people that have made you feel inadequate, wear whatever the fuck you want, if you love it, wear it. Wear it confidently, or fake it until you make it. Do all the things you want to do, don’t follow in my footsteps and don’t miss out on things, your family, friends and people that love you, will thank you. You will regret all those instances where you missed out. I know I do. But no more.

As always,

With love,

Carolyn