Originally, I wanted to write a book--which eventually became this blog--about how to live.

As if I knew the first thing about that.

A writer who didn’t write, who wound up chronically ill and depressed, diagnosed with a non-life threatening but seriously life-altering brain condition, who drowned years of poor choices with food and alcohol, and found herself wearing roughly 70 pounds of excess weight, has no business telling anyone else how to live.

My grand plan was to peel back the layers of fat, shame, pain, addiction, discontent, and laziness to reveal the super-svelte successful writer that I knew was lurking somewhere inside me, and hope that every woman who has ever felt lost, or battled illness, or felt trapped in their own body or life, would be inspired to follow my lead.

But sometime between documentaries on plant-based living and the obesity crisis, and books on everything from spirituality to minimalism, I realized that not only was I never going to start a blog if I waited until I was the perfect human specimen to do it, but no one wanted to read about the person who was already perfect anyway.

Instead I offer you the decidedly imperfect me to see if you’d be interested in going on a little trip. One where we ditch perfection in favor of authenticity. Where we boldly traverse the landscape of total transformation and all that it means to live on purpose, free of pounds, pain, and the prejudices of others.

I'm inviting you to be my traveling companion in a life less-traveled. If you're up for it, hold my wine and I'll grab you a seat. 


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