There are far too many people, who are so far removed from what they eat that they don't understand what they are doing to their bodies. Our farming practices have become big business, and the little farms need to come back to the spotlight. It's not all doom and gloom, but we need a few tweaks on some things. Here are my big thoughts.
The moment I put on my dream wedding dress, I cried tears of disappointment and frustration. It was exactly as I had pictured, with a corseted top that tied like a ballet slipper in the back, shiny white beads on the front, and a flowing, silky train. The dress wasn't the problem. It was how I looked in it. "You look beautiful," my mother said, thinking I was crying tears of joy. In that moment, I knew I still wasn't "better." I thought I had recovered, and I thought this meant I'd love the way I look. I hate that my eating disorder tainted this precious moment that I cannot have back. I use this hate to empower myself. Today, five years later, I think I'm "normal."
I remember that evening well: We burst into my bedroom trying to take each others clothes off and my nose scratched from my shirt button as he miscalculated the strip down. Almost a trip over his left pant leg and a bump to my shin over the trunk and we finally conquered the journey to my bed. It was hot and there I was feeling like a 20-year old sex kitten being taken by strong hands that wrestled me into the sheets. And there, in a game of twister, I looked down.