"Food should be a source of joy, not agony. Exercise should be about enjoyable movement, not penitence. We should respect our bodies' wisdom."

I am not going to get all preachy and tell you that you should love your body. Because I would be a hypocrite. But, you should try to focus on the positive things about yourself, and not what you perceive to be the negative. I know it's hard...Lord knows, I know...but as soon as I find myself grimacing in the mirror, I really do try to find at least one thing that I am proud of. Like maybe I feel fat, but my hair looks luscious and shiny... when I'll think to myself, "DAMN, I am HOT!" and it makes me feel great ;)

When I was in college, I was determined not to gain the freshman 15. That dreaded number that every mom, aunt and grandmother warned me about before I went off to Boston. I took to going to the gym everyday for hours, eating only Special K for breakfast and dinner, and having a salad with chicken for lunch. Yogurt and pineapples were my "binge" items. By the time I went to bed, my mouth ached because of all the pineapple I devoured during the course of the day. But that is neither here nor there. I had an unhealthy relationship with the need to get skinny and the need to burn calories.

I was at my thinnest during my sophomore year. All that exercise had paid off! I was down to my goal weight (give or take 5 lbs). I wasn't emaciated or anything like that. I was not a bobble-headed girl, who was dead to the world. But something was happening. I looked good on the outside, while I suffered on the inside; until one day, my brain and my body went on strike.

Now, I can go back and forth attributing this crash to many things, but the one thing I know for sure is that my perverse lifestyle had caught up to me, and I needed a break.

That break has lasted for almost three years. And there have been times where I have been miserable because I stop and think, "Why did I just let it go?" I naively "remember" being the happiest I ever was, when I was squeezing myself into a size 4. But I guess hindsight is 20/20.

I was happy, because I didn't have to hear comments from my well-meaning family, about losing "5 more lbs", and I was happy because I could go straight to the size 6s and 4s in any clothing store. I was proud of the body I had sculpted. All that hard work, all those hours! It was great. That wasn't the problem. The problem was that I was obsessed. It wasn't my weight that was harmful, it was my mindset.

If I didn't go to the gym at least once a day, I felt miserable. I would beat myself up all day, trying to come up with ways to make up for my "laziness". I knew exactly how my clothes were supposed to fit and if there was anything that I thought was out of place, I would rush to the gym and try to make it right again. I couldn't think of any else. It consumed my every thought.

It has taken me a while to get to a place, mentally, where I am now going to the gym on my own terms. I am not doing it for my family. I am not doing it to prove anything to anyone. I know what I am comfortable with, I know where I want to be, and I know what is healthy for me. If I miss one day at the gym, I don't beat myself up. I balance it out, in a healthy way. I no longer have that aching pit in my stomach, that mean voice in my head telling me I'm not good enough. I feel even better than I did back then, because my joy and acceptance are genuine.

Reading Hungry, it was like having an opportunity to look at who I was back then. Like I said, I wasn't emaciated. I didn't stop eating altogether. So I can not go as far as to say that I know what Crystal Renn went through. But when you have that obsessive body-dismorphic mentality... it's like you are part of a club. A club that has no parties, because you'd then have to worry about whether or not you should eat that awesome guacamole or those delicious empanadas.

The writing is a bit elementary in this book, but the story is compelling. Renn is given an opportunity to model, if she loses weight. On her quest, she enters the obsessive world of anorexia. She slowly realizes modeling is not all it's cracked up to be. She loses her motivation, her hair and herself. And then she has, what Oprah likes to call, an A-HA! moment. She's not happy and doesn't want to suffer anymore, so why not become a plus-size model? Once she makes that decision, her career skyrockets. She gets more photo shoots then she ever did as a "straight-size" model. And most importantly she's happy.

Do you remember this ad? Her story is inspiring for women who have struggled with weight and she is role-model for girls who are suffering in the "straight-size" modeling world. And to top it all off, she is doing her best to break down the barriers for plus-size models.

"It's essential to see that size is only one of the battlefronts. Those of us who want to see more plus-size women represented in fashion should also be supporting the use of more women of color and age. There's strength and solidarity in numbers. Diversity helps us all. And thin people are not the enemy...We have to change the culture by rewarding and applauding diversity in all its forms, not by vilifying individual women."

My Life in France - Julia Child

If we go back to my first post about Julia Child, you will remember that one of my ambitions was to read My Life In France. I was enchanted by the relationship Julia shared with her husband, with France and with la cuisine française. So as soon as I finished Julie and Julia, I requested the book (during the summer) from my library......and waited until December to actually read it! And once again, the love affair between the Childs sent my heart aflutter.

Their quirky sense of humor and the way they manage to understand each other's every peccadillo astounds me. It got my brain thinking...that's what I want...someone who is going to understand all those little things about me, that may annoy an innocent bystander, but that will make them love me even more. I believe that you have to find someone who is going to love your imperfections even more than your "perfections". And I feel like that's what Julia and Paul had. When you read about their adventures and their spontaneity...it's like they brought out the best in each other, in their own unique way. It's a modern day Romeo and Juliet, minus the dying and plus the good food, good friends and good humor.

One thing that I learned, that made me fall in love with them even more is that instead of sending out Christmas cards, they sent out Valentine's Day cards. In the book Julia says that Christmas was too hectic, it always crept up on them and they could never send out the cards in time. So their tradition was to take "lovey" pictures of themselves and send those out to their friends in time for Valentine's Day. A sample of their Valentine's Day cards is in the photo insert in the book, and they are priceless.

Since I've started working in publishing, I've realized how difficult it can be for authors to find a collaborator who is going to bring out his or her real voice in their book. Sometimes, an author is not a writer, and finding someone who is going to stay true to his or her own voice and personality is essential. Julia was reticent about writing her story, but when she finally did decide to put it all down, she could not have found a better person to help her. Alex Prud'homme, Paul Child's great-nephew captured Julia in a way, that even though I didn't know her personally, I could feel her presence and fun-loving charisma resonating off the page.

If I closed my eyes, I could hear her high-lilting voice booming joyfully; sharing each one of her experiences with me. I savored the French dishes that changed how her palate tasted life. And I felt my heart leap every time she described her marriage and interactions with Paul.

Her story is inspiring to say the least. Moving to France and diving into doing something that I love, with no regrets? Sounds perfect. When I was in high school my sister used to joke that I was like Gertrude Stein. She'd say that like Stein, “America is my country and Paris is my hometown.” Lucky enough to visit Paris more than once, I was always romanced by the people, the art, the language and the lifestyle. It felt right when I was walking down the street, baguette in hand, Eiffel Tower in the background. French pastries are my weakness, but unlike Julia, my affinity for French cooking is nonexistent.

I guess growing up in a Greek household, my love for olive oil trumps my French ancestry's butter-loving butt.

A bientôt, mes amis!

For a great book review of My Life In France check out this link:
http://www.nytimes.com/2006/05/28/books/review/28riding.html

"Families are like fudge - mostly sweet with a few nuts." Author Unknown

I've only read two David Sedaris books: Me Talk Pretty One Day recommended by my sister and, Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim recommended by a girl at my new job, who invited me to join her monthly book club. ( Yes, you read it right! I was invited to join a book club!) Both times I was quickly sucked in by Sedaris' self-deprecating wit and both times he re-kindled my interest on my own family stories.

When I read Sedaris, my immediate train of thought was: "Couldn't I also exploit my family's crazy quirks and hilariously unique anecdotes and get paid $$$$$$$$$$ to do so?"


So many times, after hanging out with any one of my many family members, I've opened up that blank word document, fingers poised on my ergonomic keyboard anxiously waiting for the words to flow. I sit there as the glowing screen taunts me, challenging me to write something reader-worthy. It is a staring contest that can go on for hours, until my eyes blur over and I am the first to blink, leaving my victory for another day.

Then I ask myself, does everyone think their family is worth writing about?

Why do only some share their stories with the world?

Is it just that some are writers and some are readers or is it actually that David Sedaris' life is more interesting than mine?

With two foreign parents and four older siblings (the youngest, only 8 years older than me), you'd think that my writing would be overflowing with exciting and embarrassing stories. But even if inspiration hits, as soon as I open up that word doc. my creativity shuts down and I am left staring in frustration; grasping at the disappearing wisps of revelation. But I will not lose faith.

Maybe I can put this on my list of New Year's resolutions for 2010. So far, I've got:

1. Write on my blog more often - if not everyday, at least every other day.

And now...

2. Write a least one story about one of my family members each month.

(Two working titles are: The Year of the Pineapples* and Brunch.)

Wish me luck!

Bon Appetit!

I had a movie date with my mom on Thursday and I went to see Julie & Julia.

First, I must say that Meryl Streep is a genius. She goes from Devil Wears Prada to Mamma Mia to Doubt to Julie & Julia. Is there a role this woman cannot do?

Julie and Julia (the movie) was entertaining. The Julia parts were funny and endearing. I loved the relationship between Julia and her husband, Paul. They met later on in each others' lives, but they were meant to be together from the start. The love is palpable and original. It was a testament that love is out there for anyone and it can come into your life at any moment. A scenario where "better late, than never" is definitely fitting.

It was a little weird seeing Streep and Stanley Tucci as lovers, after seeing them work together in Devil Wears Prada. It was hard for me to really get that out of my head during the movie, but they are both such exceptional actors that it was easy to appreciate their performance nonetheless.

Amy Adams was very good too, but the Julie in the movie was a little different from the Julie in the book. A bit darker and a tad more self-pitying. Now, I must admit, I love to read; but like the Standardized Testing people know, my Elementary school English teachers know and my friends that I force to read books in my none-existent book club know --- my reading comprehension kind of SUCKS. But reading comprehension aside, I don't remember Julie being so sad and cranky. High strung and stressed, yes. Maybe the Julie in my head is like the Julia in her head? Sweet, quirky, and supportive. Happy that she is doing something that she loves regardless of the challenges.

Just another reason why I like books better than movies. I can create my own version of the characters in my head and they can be as nice or as mean as I want them to be. However, this time the Julia in the movie surpassed even my greatest leaps in imagination. She was charismatic, optimistic and a real spit-fire.

I think that what I liked the most about the juxtaposition of Julie and Julia was that even though they were different, they were still similar in a way. Both women inspiring to cook, to love, to live, to commit to a project until the end; both igniting something from within.

AMBITION: Find my life's "bread and butter".

Oh, and read My Life in France by Julia Child (with Alex Prud'homme)