Understood

There are times in life that even when constantly busy and surrounded by people, I can never get over the feeling of boredom and loneliness. I look for the next activity, the next friend, the next relationship to cultivate, the next everything as long as it’s new and offers the potential to mean something.

I always thought being smart, like extraordinarily smart, along with empathetic and ambitious was the recipe to make a difference in the world and therefore be a source of all happiness… I worked and work towards being those things, because who doesn’t want “all happiness.” I never thought about how much fear and isolation was involved in the reality of my pursuit of difference as a personal form of happiness.

In a social setting, a woman like me paves the way for a very lonely existence. I bore most people with talk of things they don’t understand or don’t view passionately and most people bore me with topics I’ve contemplated a thousand times and I derive no challenge or excitement from.

Most people usually can’t relate or find me to be too intense especially when my distain for small talk kicks in. When dating I found pretty quickly that men, even intelligent men, tend to find me to be too intimidating to get to know or they do stick around and they’re not willing to deal with the cons that come with my pros. I realize I am flawed; some would even say a pain in the ass. I also I realize my perception may or may not be factual, but it doesn’t change my reality.

Anyway, I’ve gotten very good at playing social games. I can seek entertainment with shallow friendships and events, and I can definitely keep myself busy with those things… but I find in attempt to stay busy with what is easily available to me socially, I only make my desire to experience genuine connections deeper.

My motto in life has very quickly become “I don’t want to be loved, I want to be understood.” Even in my current relationship, with someone I feel understands me better than most, just the implication that he doesn’t in the smallest facets of my character is enough to make me feel very alone even in the midst of the most intimate moments.

I want someone to understand my passions, what makes me tick, what I want to be in this world, and the differences I want to make. That’s what excites me, that’s what makes me feel loved, and THAT is a lot to ask for.

I love when brains, science, and people combine. I love travel and the feeling of experiencing a world I’ve never seen, I love the beautiful things in life, and I love the arts and humanities. I love how intensely I feel everything and the rush of talking about something that inspires me. I love attention and being admired for the things that matter to me. Mostly I love being appreciated for the intricate parts of my being I feel only I can see, so much so that it is my truest and deepest definition of intimacy.

I ache to see change in the social injustices that doom people to a life of poverty, mental illness, illiteracy, and an overall poor quality of life. I am often overwhelmed with my ideas of how to make change, and the negative feelings associated with the reality check that I will not be able to do it all.

I used to fear relatively normal things like death or never finding someone to love. But now I fear normalcy. I fear settling for shallow encounter after shallow encounter in the hopes of belonging.  I fear shooting for the moon and landing on my ass. I fear dying in a world where I had no impact. Mostly, I fear having children with no legacy to leave them, so much so, that despite this intense longing to someday be a mother, I don’t think I’ll even try to get pregnant until I can see a feasible path to the aforementioned legacy…a path that may never be paved, terrifying.

I’ve spent months pursuing a life that has that has brought me eye to eye with idea of my fears becoming my reality. I’ve felt myself settling and even aspiring to shallow, easily accessible experiences that offer less chance of failure. I have learned to avoid conversations that sound anything like what I’ve just written because it leaves so much room for me to be misunderstood in my pursuit of the opposite.

I suppose I may never be understood and I may never understand. I’m starting to realize that the right thing to do is to get so lost in the pursuit of my passions that I stop falling into the trap of focusing so intently on my perception of feeling alone. The reality is, those feelings are just that, a perception, and I have far too much shit I want to do to let them stand in the way of my reality.

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New Blog: The Big Model

Hey guys! Long time now speak, for the best reason ever!

I’ve kind of stepped back to give myself the time and creative renewal to put together a blog that I have been dreaming of since beginning this blog.

My new blog is all about fashion, health, and body positivity; I couldn’t be more proud of it.

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thebigmodel.com is now live and I hope you guys will pay a visit and enjoy it as much as I’ve enjoyed putting it together!

Healthy and Skinny Are Not Synonymous

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A few months ago, I decided to stop fighting my body. As a woman that is 5’10”, a size 12/14, with a large body composition (yes, I really am big boned, seriously, buying bracelets requires elastic), I was very insecure with my size in many respects, and for years I could hear the guy I had a crush on in 8th grade asking me if I was a man. When you think of femininity and grace, most people wouldn’t think of a super tall chick with curves for weeks and a big (not necessarily fat) body. I really didn’t feel sexy, I honestly just felt like Khloe Kardashian in her chubby days; towering over everyone and struggling to be the “hot sister.”

Naturally, my first resort to sort out this problem was trying to get skinny. I totally cleaned up my diet an eliminated all added sugar, wheat, gluten, dairy, soy, and legumes. I bumped up my workout schedule, and guess what? Nothing happened. Well, nothing weight related. I did lose a few pounds, my skin cleared up, my mind was sharper, and I really did feel amazing, but that scale didn’t budge more than seven pounds, regardless of what I ate, for nearly six months. So then I began the fight with not only eating extremely clean, but also calorie counting. I guess this is a good time to tell you I was on the verge of a Britney Spears circa 2007 style meltdown all the time. I cut my calories from about 1500-1800 calories to about 1200 calories, and every week that I stepped on the scale or measured myself to find out nothing had changed, my family knew to hide the umbrellas in preparation.

I really did fight with my body for a long time, and then one day it hit me.

I am perfectly healthy. I eat better than I ever have, I exercise, and I keep my mind sharp and active…so what the hell is there to freak out about? A number? Someone to tell me I look like a woman?  I am running optimally, and this is what my body looks like. Even on a liquid diet, the smallest I’ll ever be is a size 8, maybe 10, tough shit. I could either embrace that or continue to lose my fight against how I am built.

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The decision to embrace my body changed my life. I decided to take my height, my curves, and all of my bigger than life-ness, and put it to work. As it turns out, there are people out there willing to pay me a lot of money for the things I spent nearly a year fighting. Case in point, I have wanted to model for years, but I always held off  until I was just a little bit smaller. After embracing myself, I walked into an agency and gave myself a chance. Initially, I lied and said I was a size 10, and my agent said “oh that’s a real shame. You are exactly what we are looking for. You’re tall, curvy, and toned… but you’re too small.”

I decided to cut that crap and told her to measure me. Long story short, I bypassed the 2-3 week waiting time necessary to deliberate whether they sign a model, and walked out that day with a contract.

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I took a chance on myself, I became the healthiest version of myself, and I stopped letting my insecurities cripple me. My relationship with food has changed as I dont live in a constant state of deprivation for the sake of being skinny. My relationship with exercise has changed because it is no longer something I do expecting to see some drastic change in my weight.I eat well to have nice skin, to feel good, to sleep well, and to think clearly. I indulge selectively, but carry no guilt afterwards because having one flan while on vacation in Florida (A MUST) might cause a small weight fluctuation (which used to panic me), but it will not undo everything I ate to build my health before then.

The reality is, my life has changed now that I live to be healthy and not skinny, because despite what society says, the two are not synonymous. 

Much love, 

Lucy Loves Life… and being the hot sister xx 

 

 

 

All I Can See is Panic

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I feel like I’ve spent the last couple of weeks crying for no apparent reason. I can’t pinpoint whether it’s the stress from school, financial stress, or family drama…all I know is that I’ve spent an unbelievable amount of time crying lately. It feels like I am always upset and all it takes to make me bawl my eyes out is someone looking at me the wrong way. I am constantly in a state of anxiety, and I don’t know how to fix it.

I haven’t blogged in a while because I have nothing positive to say, and how the hell can you write about being miserable when you end everything with “Lucy Loves Life.” Lucy doesn’t love life right now, and the shitty part is, I don’t know why.

I don’t have a grade below a 95, as a matter of fact, I have a 99.4 in the biology class I thought was going to kill me, so needless to say school is going well. Yet all I can see is the incredible amount of work still left to put in to maintain that, to carry on with my dream school, to pay for it…

I signed a modeling contract and everything is on track there, and yet all I can do is worry about whether I am really what they want and if I’ll get any work over here.

I am making big girl moves like moving out and big purchases, and even though it should be exciting and I have loads of back up plans, I am terrified of falling on my face and not being able to handle life on my own.

I have a few job opportunities and instead of seeing what could be, I see what isn’t and let it panic me.

Even two weeks spent with my aunt in a lovely beach house is cause for stress and panic over what I wont be getting done at that time.

Life is technically fine, but all I can see and feel is panic. Life is technically way better than fine, and trust me people don’t fail to tell me how crazy they think my stress is. I know, “poor me, I have a 4.0, a modeling contract, and a two-week vacation in Miami coming up, life is hard.” I realize how people can see that, and it makes me feel even worse for having this feeling of impending doom. But it’s there… I can’t fight it… But I am trying, desperately trying.

Let’s Be “Real” Women

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It drives me mad to see “real women have curves, skinny women look like little boys,” or “when I see my ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend and she’s a troll, I laugh,” or really any saying that makes a woman feel the need to put another woman down to feel better about what she eats (or doesn’t), her genetics, and/or how well she conforms to beauty standards.

We should be better than that.

We should understand that people are made differently. Some women were born to eat lots of cake and still be tall and skinny, and some were made to be a little plumper while munching on celery, and that’s okay.

We should understand that no man is worth tearing down a fellow woman’s appearance or even character. We should be good enough to understand we are more than our fat percentage and how that makes men perceive us. We should understand that if you were with a man that is shallow enough to stay with you because you’re the “hottest” he’ll ever have, you are a fool, and so is he.

We should be good enough to compete for more than our hip to waist ratio, but for real accomplishments that require a mind, a soul, and a heart. We should be good enough to understand that we have a point to prove and using our brains to come up with clever ways to jab our fellow woman is 5 steps back. We should be good enough to expect to be loved for our intelligence, for our humor, and for our integrity…

We should be good enough.

I know we live in a society that tells us beauty is this monumental thing. I have been guilty of comparing myself to an ex-boyfriend’s current fling based on how much more attractive I am than her, instead of who we are as people and what we’ve accomplished in life. I have felt the sting of being an honors student and thinking “but am I pretty?”

I’m definitely not above that, I have fallen into it many times, but I pull myself back out, because I want to be good enough. As women, we are kind of wired to correlate beauty with success and love, but I have to be better than that, and I have come to expect that from anyone I give my time to; because that’s what “real women” are, not a size 0 or 12.  

Much love,

Lucy Loves Life…and women that know better xx

Happy Dork with a Love of Clothes

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School, love life, work, it’s all going well… but something really amazing has happened in the last couple of weeks. For those of you that don’t know, I initially got into modeling because college is expensive, and there has to be some benefit to being a 5’10” amazon. Anyway, somewhere between my honors coordinator telling me she saw me as a fashion badass and not a doctor, and watching The Intern (A must-see), a fire sparked…I’ve had a dream come back to life, that I hadn’t even realized had died.
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I love modeling, I love clothes, I have a dream of turning that into a business, a big one. As a plus-sized model in such a time as this, there is so much potential for me to make a difference in the lives of girls and women alike,  and at the end of the day, that’s what I love. This isn’t just a job to pay for college anymore, it’s a dream, it’s what I love, it’s a goal that 95 year old Lucy would always regret neglecting. To not just be pretty, but to be an empire… It’s huge, and it’s scary, but even if I only get half way there, it’s where my happiness is and I can’t ever abandon that.

Much love, 

Lucy Loves Life… and it is loving me right back xx 

P.S.

I’m still pursuing med school, because I am also that dorky kid that adores school…but for right now, I can balance epigenetic research and photoshoots, making for a very happy dork with a love of clothes.

Frappuccino Therapy

I have a million drafts full of thoughtful things to write about…but lately, I dont have the time or energy to write about anything that takes anymore focus than I already have to give this semester. Turns out, being a science major, working on two honors projects, and being in charge of a community outreach is not a game.

I felt really defeated last week, and even today. I feel like work closed in on me, and this week I get to dig myself out of it. I am thankful for my successes and all things considered I am doing really well, but that comes at a price, and it’s usually a $5 frappuccino.

Some day soon I’ll write something of substance, but for now, I am going to pretend I’m listening in art while actually working on an annotated bibliography.

Much love, 

Lucy Loves Life…and the idea of exploding and gaining 50 pounds in medical school xx 

Bit Off More

I’m not sure if it’s the coffee or anxiety that is causing these heart palpitations, but I think I need a break from this ride. 13 credit hours, a major research based service project, a honors contract research program in biology, scholarship applications, a family, a significant other, a modeling career, other jobs to worry about, and the need for perfection (or pretty damn close) is all proving to be way too much right now.

I feel like I’m drowning, and I can’t help but think I’m doing this all wrong because there is no way it is this difficult for everyone. I will get it done…rationally I know that…but today all I can feel is mild grade panic.

Much love, 

Lucy Loves Life…yes, even on days like this xx 

Glass Wall

“It’s like watching you through a glass wall. From the outside your back is turned towards me and you’re drawing unicorns and cupcakes and telling me how happy you are while there are tears running down your face. Even when I know your feelings are far from cupcakes and unicorns, you will never admit that you were crying and I’m not sure what I can do to let you know I’m safe.”

  • I need to learn to make mistakes
  • I need to let those that love me see who I am
  • I need to stop being afraid
  • I need an actual cupcake
  • And maybe a unicorn
  • I need to be okay with being me

Much love, 

Lucy Loves Life… and learning to be vulnerable xx