#body – Brooke Lyn Landon

Bad and Boujee

Urban dictionary defines boujee as.”High class, flossin’, ballin’, One who posesses swag. Always on fashion trends. Elite, rich.” Right now, I’m getting a $4 pedicure in Hanoi, Vietnam, and am bra-less, in a shirt I bought in Thailand for $5. I’m also rocking $12 sweat pants I got in Japan because I didn’t want to do the walk of shame in my booty shorts from the night before. Yet, I’m still feeling Bad and Boujee.

Whatever you’re feeling has very little to do with what’s happening outside of yourself. Certainly, getting a pedicure while sipping tea is a big contributing factor to me feeling badass and boujee af, but it ultimately it is how you interpret life internally that sets the tone for the way you feel. If a lad roasts me for my ballsy outfit, I have a few options. One option is to be a little bitch and change clothes. Or, I can think he’s just not as innovative, creative, confident, or badass as I am, and continue my bad and boujee feels.

Outside influences can so easily deter us from feeling our best. We’re accustomed to comparing ourselves to the limiting constructs that our society has inflicted on us. It’s all make believe, and we’ve done it to ourselves. As in, we believe something so much that it makes the reality we perceive. hence the word make believe. We make it believable.

I’ve been feeling somewhat insecure at times. I’m constantly surrounded by beautiful people that are nearly a decade younger than I am. I’ve compared myself to other girls and felt like if I searched “past their prime” into google images, my picture would be there. But I’m fucking fire. Inside and out I am perfectly imperfect and I love it. I’m beautiful. You’re beautiful. Beauty comes in every form, and it’s what we make ourselves believe that will determine if we feel bad and boujee or just strait up bad.

I’m not here preaching like I’m peachy all of the time and life always feels good. I get sad. Things irritate me. Earlier, I felt like rolling my eyes the moment anyone tried to talk to me because I was peopled out, and didn’t want to deal with humans. However, the opportunity for change always exists. I don’t know about you, but I’m choosing to consciously make my life a fairy tale, and it’s titled Bad and Boujee. Who’s with me?

Relapsing

Traveling the world the past 6 months has been the ultimate mode of healing in terms of transcending old beliefs, and addictive disorderly thinking and behaviors. I have never been less concerned about what I did, ate, or how I was perceived. However, it’s common to get to a point where we think we’ve done all the work we need in a certain area of our lives, only to discover there’s more we need to climb before we reach the mountains peak. That’s what happened to me this past weekend when I went to Ha Long Bay, Vietnam.

It’s everyone’s dream to get paid to party on a private island with guests for several nights. I knew my liver wouldn’t be thrilled, but I was. Then, things took a turn for the worse.

I’m still trying to wrap my head around how I went from Lindsey Lohan pre Parent Trap, to her post Mean Girls. I’m kidding to a certain extent. I didn’t go crazy and go to jail, or whatever that chick did during her scandals. What I did was go back to my old ways of thinking and behaving.

I began to feel insecure, binge, and feel tremendous guilt for everything I ate or drank. I know I still have some reflecting and contemplating to do in order to trace back and acknowledge how this all manifested. There are however a few triggers that seem more obvious.

My co tour guide, Lu, is a sweet young girl from Germany. She’s also hot af. Standing next to her was the equivalent of super model Heidi Klum next to Snookie from her Jersey Shore days. All the guys drooled over her like they were on the Survivor reality Tv show, and they were about to eat their first meal since going off the island they had been stranded on for months. I felt utterly invisible, and undesirable. The large buffet style meals they served were something that took me ages to face again after rehab because that was my eating disorders happy place. As you can imagine, when that’s in front of me while I’m feeling like an ugly old fart, it’s a recipe for disaster. Also, the extensive drinking and empty calories certainly weren’t positively contributing to my body or mind. My self control and self esteem fell harder than a fat kid on a seesaw.

I’m looking at that temporary digression from a new and higher perspective. It’s an opportunity for growth, transcendence, forgiveness, and self love. In the past when I’ve relapsed I beat myself up. This time I’m more forgiving, accepting, and loving towards myself. Granted, it wasn’t nearly as bad, nor did I go as far as I did in the past when I went back to some of my old ways, but regardless, I digressed. Now though, I’m perceiving it more as a success because of how I’m handling it. I’m not saying having done that was a good thing. I am saying shit happens, and how you handle it can change your future. At the end of the day, I’m living my best life in Vietnam, but sometimes you have to go through ebbs in life so you can flow more smoothly after.

What it was like to be in a Bathhouse in a Foreign Country

Originally I had little interest in going to an onsen when I was in Japan. I can’t imagine many people blaming me for not wanting to get butt ass naked, and bathe with strangers, after having spent the last several months shoveling food in my face like a squirrel getting ready for hibernation. Still, I put my big girl panties on… or should I say took off, and headed to the bathhouse.

A Sesame Street game might seem irrelevant to my experience at a bathhouse in Japan, but it gives a great visual representation of my life at that time. In this game, they place several items down. One of which is clearly out of place. For example, an apple, an orange, and a squirrel. Then, they begin to sing “One of these things don’t belong with the other.” and the child has to guess which it is. You see where I’m going with this? When I was in the onsen in Japan, I was the squirrel.

It’s safe to say I’m not your typical petite Asian chick. Yeah, I’m 5 foot nothing, but that doesn’t mean my love handles and thic thighs instantly vanish like my self esteem did in middle school. Granted, I have no problem with the way my legs are, minus chafing on a hot summer day, but again, I was the squirrel.

At first my mind raced faster than my heart after I think someone might have accidentally seen a risqué photo in my camera roll. My thoughts consisted of… They’ll all stare. There is no way they’ll miss my cellulite and that upper back roll that I see slightly beginning to appear. Will they think I’m a greedy fat ass who has no self control?

Then, I entered the locker room. Crystal chandeliers adorned the ceilings. The relaxing spa music and cleanliness instantly gave me a sense of tranquility. All fear vanished and I was filled with curiosity and joy. Whether I felt that way simply because of the ambiance, or more so because I was on a high from feeling bougie af, is still yet to be determined.

I certainly compared the women’s naked bodies around me and saw the many differences. Obviously not in like a creepy sexual way. I felt more and more at ease as I saw the beauty in all of our differences and especially when I noticed people were not staring at me like I was the squirrel.

The baths themselves were so relaxing and beyond what I had imagined. From hot baths and cold baths, to lying down baths and silk baths, I tried them all with peace and fulfillment. It was hands down one of the highlights of my trip.

That’s not to say insecurities didn’t arise. I’m sure there was a moment I wish I hadn’t had that Pad Thái binging spree in Thailand. At the end of the day, that’s insignificant compared to the happiness, acceptance, and triumph I felt when it was all said and done.

To think I almost let that experience slip away makes me more determined to go beyond my fears and insecurities in the future. If there is one take away from this that trumps the rest, it’s don’t let the fact you feel like a squirrel stop you from an experience you’ll grow from. Also, if your ever near a bathhouse, just get your ass naked and have fun with it.

Does Size Matter?

Initially reading the title of this post, I’m certain a lot of curiosity arose. I’m sure at least a few people considered searching through their emojis to find the eggplant to accompany the comment with their thoughts on the matter. Sure, I could be referring to a dick, a pant size, or an eggplant, but that’s not all.

Well, does size matter? My answer is yes and no. For everything in existence, there is someone on this planet who will think it matters, and others who will not. Something matters to everyone, but it only matters how it matters to you and what you do about it.

Anyone else’s assumptions on what matters could change. When you embrace your size or opinion, and the beauty you have to offer, you have the power to shift the perspectives of others. Also, your mood can drastically change from Squidward to SpongeBob based off of what you realize truly matters to you.

Some days I feel so bloated I imagine others perceive me as that chick Violet from Willy Wonka when she chews the gum, and blows up like a gigantic blueberry. I feel like any moment I’ll have Oompa Loompa‘s rushing towards me to roll me away. I can’t imagine on those days people are actually looking at me like I’m a sumo wrestler, but my energy certainly isn’t offering a milkshake that’ll bring all the boys to my yard.

Other days, I wake up having the confidence of Beyoncé and give less fucks than Kanye West. I could look the same as I did the day I felt like Violet, but my mindset shifted my reality. If I’m beaming, walking like a hot piece of ass, people will be drawn to that energy in a positive way. What matters is how you feel and how you present yourself to the world.

When I asked if size mattered I said yes and no, but I’ve actually change my mind. It absofuckinglutely does not matter. Size doesn’t matter. Feelings matter. Focus on lifting your spirits. Then, wether it’s the size of your pants, bra, dick, or eggplant, it will be something to appreciate.

How I Feel About My Body Image Since Traveling

C380A78D-9673-4DA8-9012-F97FFA8C5D20 A big part of traveling the world is experiencing the culture, and that includes the food. What happens when you consume an absurd amount of pad thai and befriend a bunch of bros who eat about six meals a day? You guessed it. Thighs that are thicker than the minds of those who don’t believe in global warming.

Before traveling the world, I was a fitness instructor, I worked out seven days a week, and was vegan. Not the vegan that still eats vegan ice cream and french fries. The kind of vegan that looks at the package at a grocery store for 10 minutes to make sure they know all of the ingredients. So, as you can imagine, a lot changes both physically and mentally when your daily health and fitness routine goes from Kayla the fitness guru, to Honey Boo-Boo.

Having struggled with a sever eating disorder for years, it’s not hard to guess my initial reaction to my reflection as my body changed was not a positive one.

“It looks like I have a food baby the size of my ex boyfriends ego.” Was the kind of internal dialogue I would have when I had to get dressed in the morning.

Somehow, someway, things started to shift. I couldn’t even tell you why or how. I started to live more freely. I began to look at my curves as sexy. I was beyond grateful that I allowed myself to eat what I wanted, and experience the culture, without the excessive guilt or counting calories endless times a day like I used to.

Between the liberation of eating what I want without internally freaking out, and having people like me for me, it’s easy to see I used to give a fuck about all the wrong things for all the wrong reasons. I realize that if I was the twig I had wished I was, I’d want to look more like me now. You want what you can’t have. Even though society says one type of beauty trumps the rest, I beg to differ. Plenty of people prefer having something to hold on to, in which case, I have no shortage here.

My mother tells me “There’s a cover for every pot.” That I believe to be true. For every body type, there are plenty of others who’d admire the beauty of it. However, the most important thing to be able to do is cover your own pot. You can always trade lids when another comes along, but you don’t want to be left feeling cold because of the way you feel about who you are or how you look. I’m hoping that metaphor comes across as good as it did in my head.

Did I grieve today when I couldn’t fit into the pants I tried on in a store in Japan? Yes, but mainly because they were sexy af and I would have worn them so much. Gosh, I’m getting so salty just thinking about it. Let’s be real though, I do not have the physique of a typical Japanese woman, and that I’m okay with. Do I wish my body was different? Also yes. Though I appreciate what I have and how I am, I’d be lying if I said I was thrilled about all my extra fluff. Some is great, but I’d love to distribute the rest to my ass if I’m being honest.

If I was huffing and puffing like a chain smoker with asthma after walking down the block, that’s one thing. However, that’s not the case. Im living my best life, doing just fine. In fact, more than fine. Beautiful curves and all.

CagED: Living With an Eating Disorder

The only break I got from my living nightmare, was when I was asleep. My eating disorder consumed me. “When will I eat next? What will I eat? How will I be incognito when the lunch lady clearly sees me grabbing my 6th cookie? I already have a rivalry with her, so fuck it. Plus, I can just have Alexis get me more. God damnit, how dare they take so long in the bathroom. The audacity. I need to be alone in there. If only I was thinner… “ something along those lines was the loop that played on repeat in my head.

To think I used to live that way is almost surreal. The severe amount of anxiety and imprisonment I felt in my own body and mind became second nature. The double life I had to live sucked the life out of me, but I couldn’t even tell. I was able to fool myself and everyone around me.

“Wow, how can you eat so much and be so skinny? Do you have a super fast metabolism or something? You’re so lucky!” Said an acquaintance that I reluctantly agreed could accompany me one day. Meanwhile, she only was watching me eat the last quarter of my meal. Although I was thrilled she called me skinny, her even noticing my eating habits made me want to mush the rest of my ice cream in her face.

It was like I was in an abusive relationship with ED, my eating disorder. I didn’t want anyone to acknowledge it was happening, or make me remember that it was a toxic relationship.

“ED is always there for me. ED comforts me everyday. Yes, ED is controlling, manipulative, and causes me mental and physical pain, but I love ED. Id be lost without ED. ED is my everything. How could I ever live without ED?”

Thankfully, my desire to be free eventually outweighed the comfort of being cagED. My passion and dedication to heal and love myself became the key to unlock me from the captivity of ED. I learned a lot from ED, but I’ve learned more by shutting that door, so I could walk through another one that wouldn’t keep me cagED. photo-1507750809133-76dfbb107d68

How to Keep Your New Year’s Resolution

photo-1484981184820-2e84ea0af397 Have you ever made a resolution, perhaps to eat better, and the next thing you know you’re 5 fists deep in a bag of cookies made of ingredients you can hardly pronounce? I know I can’t be the only one.

What people love to do is wait for all of their shortcomings to miraculously improve on the start of the new year. “Now that my muffin top is thicker than my skull, I’ll start to eat right, exercise 5 times a week, stop drinking alcohol and caffeine, and take vitamins once the new year begins…” and so forth. This is the equivalent of signing up for a marathon, and preparing by watching the Olympics on television, while petting one of 5 cats and eating ranch Doritos.

I’ve made a few crazy resolutions that I’ve managed to uphold, but more often than not, those resolutions are not sustainable. It’s great to want to be healthier or improve your being in one way or another, but to make it last, it’s helpful to have a SMART goal.

Specific -Clear concise goal

Measurable -The ability to track your progress

Attainable – Set challenging yet achievable goals

Relevant – Goals relevant to your life plan

Time based – Goal has a target finish time attached

My plan for the new year is to get off of my medication. For those who don’t know, I take medication for depression and anxiety, and have for years. I’m ready to use other modes of coping and healing, but I’m not about to go cold turkey and cross my fingers. I’m not petting animals and eating chips to prepare. I’m setting smart goals and working my way towards that goal.

I will begin by creating better gut health. It has been scientifically proven that your gut health is directly correlated with your brain health. I have smart goals set, so that in a few weeks time, my gut health will improve and I can begin to decrease my dosage. After that, I will experiment with essential oils, and other ways to calm my body and mind as I continue to decrease.

A New Year resolution is not a sprint. It’s a marathon, and you can cross the finish line with a smart goal and a smile. What’s yours?

From Ogre to Goddess

girl-2793938_1280 I made an oopsie. I was browsing through my pictures just a moment ago, and I came across an old “progress” photo of myself. What happened next was not an excellent choice to say the least. I clicked on that photo to take a closer look, knowing very well it would end up with me feeling as though I was that chick in the movie Shriek, when she went from a beautiful feminine looking goddess, to a large mucus green ogre.

“How was that only two years ago?! I was lookin’ so fine, and now I have enough rolls on me to feed a mormon family! Wtf happened!?” I thought to myself as I meticulously examined the photograph.

Once the initial after shock settled in, I took a moment to remember that time of my life. Even then, I wasn’t thin enough, or fit enough, to be content. In fact, the only time I ever had been happy with my body was the week prior to going into an eating disorder treatment center, and was depressed then because I knew I’d never be able to be that thin again after I left rehab.

Essentially, I’ve lived almost my entire life not being truly satisfied with my appearance. Yet, looking back, I wish I was that miserable person in the photograph. Unless we learn self love and acceptance exactly how we are and where we are, these negative thoughts and opinions will be perpetual. We will always be chasing an unrealistic ideal of ourselves and our lives because thinking we’re not good enough in any way now, will only lead to more of those thoughts in the future.

It is my ultimate goal to love myself unconditionally like the goddess I am. Regardless of what I do, say, act like, look like, what I’m doing, where I am, I will learn to love every aspect of who I am because deep down, I know I’m worthy of it all, and so are you.

It’s Happening For you

road-man-broken-car-6078-1 The time I crashed my car in Santa Barbara.

The chick who acted like Mother Teresa around everyone else, but was the biggest bitch to me.

The person I had a crush on that I totally thought was a guy until I had already caught the feels.

The text I sent to someone I was dating out of insecurity, causing a ripple effect and ending with my mom referring to him as “The Devil.”

None of it happened to me because nothing does. Life happens for you.

…

Those instances lead to some of my biggest insights. They often come out of your comfort zone, in frustration, or fights.

It’s all happening for you I promise and swear. You’ll be pleasantly pleased when you find the gems hidden there.

Crashing my car lead me to the place of my dreams. It wasn’t at all what the situation had seemed.

I realized the universe will always have my back, even when the process feels like a heart attack.

It’s happening for you, I know this to be true. Before you throw in the towel, ask what it is trying to show you.

Cardio Sucks

I was sweating more than my ex in a lie detector seat by the time I was only 4 minutes into the HIIT class this morning. I must have said to myself “God damnit. I hate cardio.” about 100 times that hour.

Why am I putting myself through hell and back you may ask? Well, first off, it’s good for me. But if I’m being honest, I’ve gone on a couple hikes over the past few months, and to say I was embarrassed by my performance is an understatement. I looked like Gollum from Lord of the Rings had one too many drinks the night before. All the while, I was climbing up the hill next to a cute guy. Never again.

Every guy’s dating app profile reads “Swipe right if you like hiking and beer!” The thought of hiking with someone, especially a guy, gives me heart palpitations, and I don’t drink (generally). I’ve been swiping left so much that my ability to flip pages when I read has significantly increased. I’m into strength training, but if I need to turn into a cardio queen who “loves to hike and go on adventures”(#basicbitchprofile.), maybe it’ll be a good thing.

People say they love to hike because of how beautiful it is. How the hell do you appreciate the beauty when you’re blazing up a hill, breathing like a chainsmoker with asthma? I’m just hoping I can learn to enjoy it because in theory, it sounds lovely. In reality, it feels like death. Regardless of the outcome, I know that anything that’s out of my comfort zone always lead to growth and benefits me in some way… even if that growth is realizing I’m not destined to be some backpacking, flannel wearing, messy bun rocking chick.
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