2:57AM Le Hungry

Sometimes hunger doesn’t come in pangs of stomach notifications, like waking up with a headache and some intuition saying “eat”. I went to bed after being too tired to expend the honestly exhausting energy #tuningin to see if I was full after eating a snack. Maybe this is where the core cause is #lettinggo of the need to be “perfectly” sated. I honestly think I was so tired of the mind games, paired with being end-of-day-wiped, that I was just in a #fuckit place and hit the pillow, not feeling like living up to my own standards of eating “just right”.

That was another form of escapist-numbing, I now see. And also of rubbish high standards of perfectionist ways. Well, I’m eating now, and it’s a learning lesson that “perfect” is bullshit. And even in this imperfection there’s beauty of self-discovery and awareness.

Awareness is key.

Also: yes, I genuinely enjoy Brussels sprouts. #maybethisiswhyimsingle

Gaining Weight & a Stress-Tracking App

I’ve been told that I look “stronger” and that I have gained some weight and look better.
These are great things.  My mind thinks otherwise though.  So many thoughts go through my head:

  • I now must be able to train really hard (but am still injured)
  • I still have some of my habits going – and if I am gaining weight, then I should instantly let go of them and have an untethered life (meal stringency, control over all things – I feel like now my whole concept that I condone of “living intuitively” should happen instantaneously)
  • When will it stop?  What am I going to become?  What will I feel like when I no longer have my life preoccupied over my habits, routines?
  • If I have more free space, what the hell do I do?

I want to continue observing these thoughts and choosing to heal anyways.

I want to trust that things take time, I ran for the first time in a month this past Saturday, 3.75km, 17 mins, and I stopped before I felt that I wanted to.  I did my walking loop, and it felt empowering to stop before my mind wanted to.  I am going to be getting back slowly.  Slower than comfortable.  I want to work on strength, my one-legged squats, “one-legged lateral BOSU ball hops”, ankle mobility, etc.  I need to get my body ready for trails.  And the fact that I’ve gained weight doesn’t mean that I’m like 100% able to go on long-ass trail runs now.  My fascia and tendons will need time to become adjusted, to feel recovery.

I’m sitting at a cafe now and so glad I bumped into a friend of mine who has also battled.  She told me that she still has these thoughts, but she trusts that they’re fleeting, that this too shall pass.

I am looking forward to being capable:

healthy enough to doallthethings

Clare Gallagher, wicked cool trail runner, refer to pic below for clarification of status: Bae

I have to remind myself that if I am so present with myself in the moments of my life, then I trust that I will listen to my needs, and deny the hurt from myself.  I don’t feel like my soul will lead me astray.

I won’t become a “whale”.

I know that to do what I want to do, to live the life I want to live, the body I’ve sculpted as a byproduct of my coping mechanisms won’t be able to handle it. I know that my muscles, fascia, bones and blood won’t be able to traverse all the rugged terrain, all the fallen logs, all the boulders that I want to catapult myself over.  In the state that I’ve been in, if I tripped, I could easily and instantly break a hip.  My soft tissue wouldn’t be supple enough to allow my limbs to soar, they’d taught and tight and constrict.  I’m sick of foam rolling (PVC pipe) for an hour a day only to not be in pain.  And my training load doesn’t merit the amount of strain my body feels.  Food is wicked recovery.  I want to remember this when the shit voice comes in.

I want my mind to have the fuel for my being not to be in a fight or flight mode which restriction ensues.  I had a private swim coaching client this AM, and I actually had the mind stamina to be able to use my wicked skills that I innately have, to analyse her stroke and tell her how to improve. These analytical tools are lost when I’m undernourished.  There’s straight up no fuel for the synapse of neurons to THINK.

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Women like this make me feel hopeful, alive, like, damn straight – focus less on food, more on life, food is great, and awareness is key – healthy is a universal term for honouring all of ourselves.

I have to be aware of my stress load for this shit.  I have been tracking my stress via Logit AI Logit AI from a good friend of mine.  I highly recommend you check it out.  It’s an app that quantifies stress.

Stress is pretty much an invisible illness – and the notion of Allostatic load (I talk about this in my upcoming e-booklet Fuck Diets- 10 ways to Stress Less, and Weigh Healthy”).

Allostatic Load of Stress: the body doesn’t differentiate between different stressors. Be it the load of an ill family member, the physical load of athletic training, or the fact that you’re anxious over what to eat for dinner; the body only registers this as threat, and engages in the fight or flight reaction.

Basically, the Logit App prompts a questionnaire daily that with time, you can grasp a relative gage of your stress levels.  I’m bringing this up now, because despite being sick with a gnarly cold, and getting shit sleeps because I’m moving to British Columbia in 24 days (without a job or home yet), and a loud grenouille living above me…. my state of mind has been spot on sweet like gravy.  It’s actually surprising me.  I feel much less stressed, and the numbers show it, the “proof is in the pudding”.  (my logit scores are in a pic below).

Even my shits are better #jahbless

It’s actually kinda blowing my mind, first: how useful this app has been, and I’m not even one to log shit. I don’t really love data, online apps for things the body is innately born to calibrate….but the accountability, and the ability to consistently track how I feel, it’s helped me see the benefits of lowering my stress, and I definitely need this to get my period back and beat Hypothalamic Amenorrhea.  It keeps me in line, motivated, true to the ultimate goal.  The fact that the data is relative based on my previous logs (after about a week, you get the hang of it, and get more accurate data – the more you log, the more accurate your outcomes are) is a good feedback loop for motivation.  If it was based on other people’s cues, I would truly be less inclined to log. But it’s basically a relative reflection based on my own feelings, my own stress, my own perceived cortisol load.

SO, in spite of being sick and tired, my spirits are great.  I am so grateful for this feedback while I observe myself “getting stronger” (gaining weight), and am wondering if the fact that my cortisol is lower (be it from my mindset of “fuck this shit”, like, letting go of control) is a reason for my coping mechanisms (Anorexia, restriction) to lessen their stronghold because I am no longer putting myself in the line of fire for needing to be in a “survival mode” state, or a state of desperation.

Here are my numbers:

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My Logit Scores for the past month

Some of the daily questions include my perceived ability to:

  1. Get annoyed
  2. Find things overwhelming
  3. Feel capable to completing tasks
  4. Feel under pressure
  5. Laugh/have fun with friends (like when my swim student swam backstroke into an old Portuguese man this AM…and like, stroked his [hairy…very hairy] back hahahh…poor woman).

My answers have surprised me in being on the healthy side of life, less suffering, more feeling good.  I feel good in spite of gaining weight (HA, my mind wants not to feel good, even while typing this, but physiologically, this is a really influential marker for recovery – mental, spiritual, physical, emotional).

Fuck the struggle

On this note, that’s my update, I’ll continue getting STRONGER, fuck diets, and listen to my own tips from my e-book.  I actually am loving referring back to them when I feel stuck in life, they’re damn good.  Stay tuned for the launch!

ED Warriors Know:

Yesterday, I instagrammed these:

ED Warriors know it’s a different ball game to say #fuckit and change habits. Mind goes all “butthinkofthechildren” aka BUT WHAT IF IT’S NOT THE SAME MACROS AS YOUR BERRY OMELETTE?!

What if it’s got more sugar?

Are apples going to make me lose control?

Do I deserve to sleep in and not cook my eggs?

I’m so damn glad I’m in a space where I can watch those thoughts, and then tell them to fuck off.

These muffins are good. I’ll eat two, thanks. 

With cheese and butter (ghee).

Recipe: from joyfulhealthyeats

CINNAMON APPLE MUFFINS #paleo #forthelikes: Apples have been a #fearfood ish kinda thing and no more are any #fucksgiven so bitchmademuffins #homade.

Recipes to me are like rules: made to be broken. I muddled round with this recipe, used almond and flax, added raisins, cashews, baking pow instead of soda bc #thatswhatihad. Turned out #prettynicelittlesaturday 👌🏻:

Ingredients

½ cup of coconut oil, melted

¼ cup of pure maple syrup

1 teaspoon of vanilla

6 eggs

½ cup of coconut flour

½ teaspoon of cinnamon

¼ teaspoon of baking soda

½ teaspoon of fine sea salt

1 apple -peeled (#nope) and diced (Mel’s modifications here bc don’t tell me one CUP apples – #theydontcomelikethat).

How to Eat Well to Feel Good

Video: It’s not so much what we eat, but how we eat it that matters most.

Focus attention on the feelings that we desire, and let go of the seeking of the items that come along with it – and they’ll come. When we seek things, often we don’t feel so hot, and those feelings and non-serving thoughts keep us where we are. Seek the feelings, relentlessly.

Meal plans don’t work. Finding your own intuition works.

An Open Letter of Apology

This is for myself, for you, for my parents, bro, friends.

Kelly Boaz, an Eating Disorder warrior now providing Holistic Nutrition counselling for those struggling, once told me that post-recovery (from any form of addiction or coping), comes a reintroduction of the real self to all- to the world.

I’m coming back.

(Also sorry for the camera angle…iunno…”YOLO”?)

I guess I’ve stopped giving two shits

Literally and figuratively.

I sprained my ankle running last Wednesday.  That sucked. It’s still paining, I’m hobbling, can’t do the grocery store trek for my orders….can’t (literally and figuratively) run away from myself anymore.

Yesterday, I had a godawful bout of food poisoning.  I forgot how shitty puking feels.  Puking, while feeling like someone’s taking a bat to your head, and then sitting you on a roller-coaster ride.  Thank god my mum came and helped me.  I was all “no way, Sanjay”, but she came and I’m so grateful for her passing me my “Ginger-Aid” Kombucha etcetcetc.

It was from this, relatively non-threatening shapeshifter culprit (chicken soup, rosowek, thanks Babcia, ja cocham ciebie) that I took to Algonquin to camp, frozen, after taking some time to eat it (half a jar), then having it thaw, re-freezing it at home…thawing it in commuting, and now eating it fuck yuck.  I honestly am so grateful to have combatted bulimia because that shit sucks.

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So I spent all yesterday in fetal position in the bathroom.  Ate nothing.  Pooped once (that’s TWO TIMES ALREADY less than the usual…).  Felt not good.

And then, mum was beside me helping me.

I think that my strong ass determined mind has clouded my intuition in this way: I believed that my sugar-addiction days coming from a restriction-binge-purge cycle in uni led me to intense fear of carbs, paired with my knowledge of carbohydrate-and sugar-burner addictions.  I went to school for Holistic Nutrition and learned about ketogenic fuelling off fats.  I grew terrified and demonized carbs, despite my school condoning the principle of “carbohydrate appropriate” vs no carb. 

 I totally lost trust in my intuition.

Via support from Cliff, the school’s founder (who I akin to Tim Ferriss as the New Zealand-version related to his sheer brilliance and charisma) who has been cheering me on and checking in on my recovery, he expressed the concept that we don’t as anatomical beings need CHO, but his course runs on the philosophy of “high performance” in terms of holistically prescribing the nutrients, and lifestyle to thrive as humans.  This being said, carbs are a wicked tool to use in relation to needs.  These needs vary from person to person.

Yesterday, in my pain, I was pretty damn desperate.  It popped (always somehow have to autocorrect myself from typing pooped….) into my awareness to 

use food as a way to heal myself.  

Holy shit, right?

So bitch felt.

I tuned in, I accepted my feelings, I aksed my body what it needed right then, to feel better.

(that’s not unintentional, aks, gotta do things for your own pleasure sometimes…right Lo?!)

Maybe it took feeling like absolute fucking hell to realize that I don’t want to feel like fucking hell anymore.  Self-inflicted hell, no need.

So I aksed mum to get me things that called to me, the only things I could bare to think I’d be able to stomach, because I was hungry, and nauseated, and confused, but also solid in my intuition: I wanted deez tingz:

  • Granola (got grain-free, but hey)
  • Crackers (got Paleo, but HEY)
  • Corn on the cob (organic? non-GMO? don’t know, don’t care atm–butprobswillcaremorewhenimoutofsurvivalmodebcGMOisrubbish)
  • BENNA’S BAKERY AND DELI SEED BREAD (it’s been frozen in my freezer for ages, and I’ve had inklings to try it for just as long)
  • Lebanon Express dal soup (have been eyeing this damn soup for months….)
  • Kombucha (nobigdealanymore)

FullSizeRender (9)My god, I was solid in my needs.  I ate the soup to start, even when my ED was saying to pick at little things….nibble in non-satiating foods (which is where my bulimic tendencies stemmed…so grateful for my awareness in my post about tools helping me overcome Bulimia and knowing that nibbling doesn’t work…I had to COMMIT to nourishment, so I had the soup).  The soup was first food I ate all day, and had to go slow from nausea, but it felt really nourishing.  I dozed a bit then (was like 7pm then).  Then, round 8, my bod was hungry.  I put my hand on my heart, another on my tum, and felt what I needed: a piece of Benna’s seed bread with GHEE babis, an egg, the granola with cashew milk, and PBaetter.  Honestly, I was pretty shaky, and I remember the feeling of being “out of control” in my binge purge days.  So I swore no phone, no distractions, to mindfully feel my needs and be present.  I listened, I listened to my sweet inner voice that so desperately needs compassion and honouring.  Man it felt so odd.  And so right. (that’swhatshesaid).

I finished, I finished and washed up for bed.  I felt so good.  I turned my phone away, I did bloat myself, I want to heal my gut, be free, help myself, help others, be in nature, run with the wind!

I journalled, I watched Joe Wong, I “prayed”, and went to bed.

This morn, I swam, oh I swam respectfully and slowly.  I ate eggs for breakfast, it was aight…it was aight…it was cool..butmyshitsmorejohnblazethanthat.  Then, I allowed myself to feel hunger.  I never do this.  I suppress hunger till I let myself eat.

Not today.

I came home from the pool, and ATE!  I ate a bowl of the granola, flax seeds, collagen, milk.  It was so liberating!

IMG_8291HUGE!  Man, I can’t describe how huge this feels.

I genuinely think it’s coming from both myself, and being catalyzed from you blessed souls reaching out and cheering me on.  Honestly, fuck, man, the call from Claire, from warrior and swim (AND LIFE) Olympian Coach Ken, love from John Salt, messages in my inbox, Marta, the squeeze from Nicola this morn from way back at Towhee, the honest cheerleaders around me, Jenn at Reunion Island here and now as I blog-post snack (would NEVER be able to do this even last week!  I am free! I don’t need to eat at certain times, man it’s time!).

Yesterday, my roommate expressed how perspective is so key: deaths and illnesses are all around us, and life’s fleeting, everything is fleeting:

This too shall pass

So goddamn it, I listen to my body.  I’ll help you listen to yours, soon.

My life’s beginning to have colour.

Thank you all, thank you Mum, my god you’re beautiful.

You too

No-you-are.jpg

Tools that helped me beat Bulimia

I’m resting today.  My ankle hurts.  I have a new private catering client, and I love this.  I love helping and sharing my food and living philosophy; that of self-love and kindness.  That of healing an unhappy gut, of facing feelings, of raw, real emotions, all of them.

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This morning, I pitter-patter in and out of the ego-rubbish dialogue with my inner wisdom.

“Rest is earned, food is earned…” I ate a great breakfast.  I hobbled to do laundry, I’m sitting at Reunion Island and blogging.  I can’t walk lots, and I’m looking gratefully at it.  Maybe this is the space I need to fill my website, to organize myself as a developing practitioner in holistic healing.  I want to be the change.  I had some wine last night, to calm my nerves, and passed out at 8pm.  I woke up at midnight hungry, so ate a snack.  Good stuff.

This morning, I’m sitting and craving an outlet, so I write.  I have an extra cup of coffee, and I breathe.  I am sharing what helped me beat Bulimia.  I am looking at the shit I’ve overcome, instead of where I still have to further my journey.  I am looking at my “full” vs my “lack”.  Maybe the universe will listen to this positivity, and like attracts like.  Oh how I see mountains.

Here’s some stuff (wanted to submit to Tiny Buddha, but submissions full….anyone know any platforms that would be good for sharing this story?)

Tools that helped me beat Bulimia:

 

Bulimia is a bitch. It’s a cycle of restriction, then “giving in” to a purge. I put that in quotations because it represents the voice of failure, of ‘lack’, of weakness.

Here’s how it manifested in my life.

I had all the prereq’s for it: perfectionist, two best friends who were dubbed “gifted” against who I was always comparing myself, an athletic body type throughout elementary school, controlling parents, and a terribly low self esteem paired with timidness.

So come High school, when my body started changing, and my sense of self remained vague, unhealthy friend-dynamics, a really bad first experience of sex, and strange attraction to assholes for male partners, I was ravenous for control. I was unhappy, confused, and seeking to be seen, heard, respected. I was involved in sports, and remember having the feeling of being idle when I had free time. In this time, I was unable to cope, I felt uneasy and turned to food to control. I remember using food in a fear-form. I remember the summers when Competitive swimming would take a break, and I felt so isolated and alone, and would fill my time eating “Oatmeal to go” bars and watching TV with my brother, while I imagined all my friends at overnight summer camp having so much fun. I had maaaaaad FOMO. So, when school came back around, and my weight was slow to catch up, my parents latched on to control. I was monitored for my weight and how much exercise I could do. That year was hell. Grade 10. I was struggling hard, and by the summer, I ended up being admitted into North York General’s eating disorder day program.

North York’s day hospital for Eating Disorder recovery was a 9am-5pm gig, meals monitored strictly, as was bathroom use. Group, individual, and family therapy consisted most of the day, along with shit like…knitting and other “non-movement” types of things. No sitting up straight at the table because that “burned too many calories”…I was struggling hard. I remember one day, crying so much that the nurses were actually hard pressed to get me to stop (having it been a good few hours) being concerned for my energy expenditure. Days of coping revolved around spiting the program, hating the food, fear, and extreme distain for control. Long story short, I ended up running away one day, to fight it on my own. [That sentence entails more than expressed, but for the sake of a shorter post, I’ll leave it there (and also to spare myself the pain of rehashing…).]

I spent that summer at my cottage with my grandma, and it was the best, most empowering summer of my life. I remember the focus not being on weight, although I did gain weight to a healthy weight, on my own. I guess I let my body be, I let it find where it needed to be. I was so happy that summer. There was freedom, a boy, a job, swimming, I also ran! I fell in love with running, then.

This was all before bulimia. I went back to high school in grade 11, and come grade 12, I had issues arise for self-esteem and stress over university. I was so adamant about not being controlled, that it grew to be insecurity-based. I returned in Grade 11 with a chip on my shoulder, no longer willing to be subordinate, no longer willing to be unseen, unheard; I felt like the pain I’d endured has “earned me” the right to deserve respect.

I went to university, and fell into the mainstream image-oriented stereotypical Western ideal. I went to University of Western Ontario, where long legs and blonde hair were revered. I nit-picked at myself hard. I worked out. I was known as the athlete in my residence.

Then, I fell into restriction. I would restrict, and I remember my first binge on my roommate’s Pringles. There was also the alluring residence caf, brimming with sugar-laden temptations, a candy-bar, and all available with the swipe of your pre-pair residence eatery card.

My first purge was in my dorm room, in a garbage bag, using the back of a toothbrush (Google said that’s how it was done)…While my roommate was at cheerleading practice. I followed it with a session at the gym, late at night.

This was the beginning of hell. It lasted from first year uni, to fourth year. Fourth year university, I went cold turkey. The last episode I ever had was Thanksgiving 2013, the day of my Grandma’s funeral. I stopped. I don’t know how exactly, but it was the same way I stopped using fake sugar (I was known to make a meal out of a tub of sugar-and -fat-free yogurt with 8 packets of TwinSugar and sugar free jam…with coffee whitener).

I lived in a house in year 2-3 uni of 7 girls. This was tough. I am now saying how much I felt like an outsider, I felt so wrong and bad all the time. I isolated myself. I lived in fear. I am sorry for the way my coping mechanisms took hold; for all the peanut butter I sneaked from my roommates, the cinnamon toast crunch, the dishonesty with them, with myself. The pain was horrendous.

Then I found Wayne Dyer and Timothy Ferriss: two things here were the beginning of the end of Bulimia:

  1. Self-love
  2. Slow-carb diet

One side-note: Tim Ferriss’s “Four-Hour Body” book, and the idea of one day a week having a “cheat-day” is NOT conducive to healing from an Eating Disorder…but you know what, his philosophy of real food was a big one for me in facilitating change.

So here are some ways that I healed:

  1. I left that house, I broke my foot running away from a peeping tom in my house at Western, and waved the white flag. I surrendered to taking 2 months off of school (to be finished online in BC that summer in my wicked stint out West—see you soon, mntn friends).
  2. I learned to commit to my meals. I stopped the idea of “only a snack”. This idea of “willpower” or lack there of, pitter-pattered out of my life. I trusted that I had to commit to meals. I had to fuel. A friend of mine, a fellow ED warrior actually implemented this idea to me. I remember her transformation to a fit and sculpted body, and I approached her one day at the gym to ask her how she did it. I was so sad in my body, and so unhappy in my binge-purge cycle. Her answer: “I finally started to eat!” THIS IS TRUE, FRIENDS!

My grazing idolization failed time and time again. I would think that I could “have a small snack” and it’d suffice me throughout the day. No. I implemented a meal plan of fuelling; imperatively around workouts (I was training as a triathlete here), as well as a proper breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

  1. I began saying affirmations and understanding from Wayne’s teachings (His book “Your Erroneous Zones” was huge for me in a catalyst for healing) that self-love came first, then the body would acclimatize to the happy set-point. I lived in such pain, my body was heavier, and I was so mean in my self-talk. I started being kinder to myself, and honestly, this is when I balanced out my weight.
  2. I grew into a healthier identity for myself after spending a summer at camp with mature adults, camp Towhee, a camp for kids with learning disabilities. Coming from superficial UWO-this was a breath of fresh air, with wholesome adults who were nurturing support for my soul. I distanced myself from people who made me feel like shit about myself, and learned that I no longer would tolerate my own self-talk in meanness, nor the talk from others with that hue of non-compassion.

 

Note: where I lacked was in healing the mind-aspect, the reason behind my coping through food. Once I regulated my needs for physical nourishment, I no longer had binge tendencies. But, I grew over-controlling with routine. I have yet to nourish my soul.

 

But, these are the ways I beat Bulimia, and I am very proud of this. Bulimia was a dark and painful experience. I am recovered from Bulimia (damn, that feels good to say)!

Tummy

I am bloated. I ate frozen and thawed and refrozen and rethawed food yesterday…Oops. Paired with stress, anxiety, feels, food, gas, life, digesting, I’m bloated.

Yesterday after dinner when I expressed this poop to my roommate she said it’s so damn normal. Everyone’s tum goes out after food, gas forms, and that’s how food moves through the body for processing. 

But also, the gut is the second brain. I know mine’s been abused, and I’m learning to love it. I’m using the “Ed” voice thing (which I equate to “id”/”ego”- bc the whole “ed” thing doesn’t sit right w me making me feel like I’m externally blaming shit instead of believing in my own prowess to heal, bc this “ed” thing- although I differentiate my soul-speak from it- it is a part of me. But it’s a part of me like my mind akin to my soul, and I don’t have to listen to it’s verbatim and lack of humour…it’s like dry humour to my hilarious puns and memes🤸🏼‍♂️)…

So. Tum’s talking via bloat- it’s relative always and it doesn’t look like much in the pic but dis bitch uncomfy.  I’m posting bc I’m vulnerable here. I’m generally uncomfy with the tum, and especially with bloating bc it makes me feel bigger than I am. Bloating confuses hunger signals. It’s not nice. I am eating dinner anyways. I think back when I had bulimia, I would suppress the feelings of hunger with bloat- and restrict till starvation hit and then boom i was in binge mode. I am mechanically eating now bc there’s some feelings inside me telling me it’s time to eat. Can’t explain in words and don’t have to. I am learning to trust myself and my inner intuition. I’m trusting that as I refuel and retrain my body how to eat, it’ll get better.

So I’m going now to eat blood sausage.

✌🏻 

Wholefoods catering

I’m doing wholefoods private catering. I impulsively posted on Bunz, and got some interest. On one hand, yaddayadda it’s food-oriented so probs unideal for ED healing, but also it’s honestly a mind-break and a job that 1) feels good to be of service, keeps me busy, and 2) I actually get out of my mind and in a state of flow bc I get to express my creativity through r cope curating and flavour experimentation, and also 3) I make food that I’m challenging myself with

Long term, not ideal as a career choice of mine, but certainly good experience for my future retreat centre, and setting intentions to get bum to BC and up mountains and in lakes n stuff.

Also this no laptop thing is annoying- FWP, but phone autocorrects are hilarious I almost want to uncorrect them for the lols.

Here’s an example of some of the first orders:


The others left me too tired to take pics…le sigh.

Hire me? The food’s yum, right Cor? 

Ps have also restarted meditating and focusing on breath: these two vids are worth it:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Lb5L-VEm34&feature=share

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JeiEUMrPXkE&feature=share