Baby, this one is personal.

Today we’re talking body

*Yesterday was national Lingerie Day. I had completely forgotten about it. Only reason I knew was because I saw all of the social media posts. I haven’t been posting much to socials simply because I’ve been sick. Nezuko and I both got sick around the same time. She’s doing way better than me though. Running around. Eating. Doing this cute little stupid run she does. My bestie is up, I’m still down. It’s nothing too serious and I caught it in time. I’m loaded up on meds and I’ve been instructed to rest and keep my fluids up. Me resting is easier said than done because I always have something to do.

*TRIGGER WARNING: As always, take care of yourself first. There will be mentions of self-harm, sexual assault, and disordered eating.*


When Monday came around I did think about making a post. Had it up and I kept rewriting the caption. That’s when I just said, “fuck it, let’s take it to the blog.”

I have plenty of lingerie photos. Some old, some new. I settled on a picture from the boudoir shoot I did recently. Said picture is the featured image. And as I’m looking at the picture, I get to thinking. Thinking about the way I feel about my body. Thinking about the way my body is perceived. Thinking about the comments people have made about my body. Thinking about what it’s like to be on the internet with this body. Thinking about the first time I was sexually assaulted. Thinking about the relationship I have with food and how it has effected my body.

Chile. THOUGHTS.

I don’t even know where to start, but I have somewhat of an idea.

I touched on this some in my latest *Youtube Video. I don’t weigh myself, and I don’t keep a scale in my house. I was in PR when I weighed myself, by myself, for the first time in years. My friend booked us a horseback riding tour, and you had to put your weight along with other vital information down. I wanted to be correct about all the information I was putting down. Didn’t know my weight, but there was a scale in one of the bedrooms to help me out. I was already feeling anxious about it as I walked back to the room. I pull the scale out, cute little modern jawn. I hop on and it says 208 lbs. Now like I said, I don’t weigh myself. I have a history of disordered eating. Numbers and calories can trigger a few things for me.

So here I am, in Puerto Rico, looking down at this number between my feet. I told myself, “You can either have the time of your life or let this eat you alive.” I chose the first option. I left that room and still had the number ringing in my head, but it was just a number. I was out there living my best life. Titties out in the pool. Titties out at the beach. Horseback riding and seeing a beautiful sunset. Staying in beautiful places and enjoying the overall experience. I had a few photos I had to get off, and I tried my hardest to practice mindfulness. I had such a great time. I had great experiences with great people. Overall it was a good jawn.

So that’s the long story as to why I had to weigh myself. Now how do I feel in this present moment?

Honestly? I’ve never been happier. This is the happiest that I’ve ever been. The happiest I can remember being. I don’t want to be sad anymore. Now don’t get me wrong, some shit is indeed just that, sad. But I don’t want to wallow in sadness anymore. I used to think it was unfortunate that my life even got this far. I had so many negative thoughts about myself. I never imagined that I would hurt myself in ways that I did. The love I have for myself HAS to be this intense because the hate was disgusting.

This type of self-love didn’t come over night. I had to use affirmations HEAVILY. I had to question my own way of thinking. I had to verbally dismiss any negative thoughts. I had to let go of societal pressures. I had to make peace with myself. I’m still working on me. I’m still learning new things about myself. I’m still unpacking trauma here and there. I have a therapist and a psychologist. I take antidepressants. Putting that out there because do my meds help me? Yes. I don’t know how I feel about advocating for medication, I’m just speaking to what has helped me. I now have a solid routine that helps me out.

Being active and moving around also helped the way I feel about my body. Tremendously. I used to think about all of the things I couldn’t do on the pole. That made me so fucking anxious. Now I’m thinking, “well how do I get there?”. How do I get to looking like Mercedes from P-Valley? Practice, practice, practice. I wanted to get stronger, so I started putting in some work at the gym. I’m enamored with what my body can do. My only issue is relaxing on an injury and properly taking care of said injury. 😅 I got some kneepads last year and they fit now. So I have cushion with floor work. Very VERY excited about that aspect.

Being in the gym also helps with mindfulness. Being in the moment and focusing at the task at hand. I haven’t been in the gym for a minute though. I was contagious and didn’t care to put that on anybody else. Stretching and light pole work is being done in the meantime. I’m actually surprised that it bothered me being away from the gym like this. Because I was really into taking that time out of the day for myself, solid no distractions. I’ll be back at it soon though. Get myself some new workout gear while I’m at it.


(Now this is going to be a quick transition. We’re flipping gears here. To ME it feels like it’s coming out of left field. So you may be like “well what the fuck?” So plopping in another trigger warning.)

The first time I was assaulted I felt like it was my fault. It was my fault because of what I wore and what my body looked like. That ain’t true. It wasn’t true then and it isn’t true now. I remember wearing sweatpants and nothing but afterwards. I didn’t want to wear anything revealing, tight, whatever. Anything that was “showing” off my body was a no. Before then I was already being hyper-sexualized. Mind you before all this, I was dealing with an eating disorder. Started in middle school. Grew legs and started walking and talking on its own come high school.

I didn’t feel good at that period in my life. I was so sad. I was depressed. So much bullshit was going on and I processed that shit the best I could. The very fucking best I could. I would have so much to tell my younger self.

“Believe in yourself.”

“You’re going to figure this shit out.”

“Being a people pleaser ain’t it, put yourself first.”

“Focus on what you have instead of what you don’t.”

“This shit ain’t that deep.”

“You need to find a better way to get the emotions out. Find a better outlet.”

“You are not responsible for the way your body makes others feel.”

Words that I’m sure I really needed back then.

I was talking to my therapist about all of this of course. I mentioned that it feels like self-transformation. Surely started during the beginning of the pandemic and it kept going. I started with my hair. Then I had to stop drinking. Then I had to get serious about my mental health. It’s one thing to go to therapy, and another to actually use what you learn in therapy. Then I had to mentally and psychically work through trauma. Then I had to get comfortable with what I was seeing in the mirror. Real hot girl shit.


I remember my therapist asking me about comments folks made about my body on the internet. I’ve been on the internet for years. I’m talking about dial up days. The way in which I interact with the internet has surely shifted. Such as posting full body pictures in bikinis and lingerie. The internet is a wild ass place, and you do need a strong sense of self when you’re on it. I told my therapist I didn’t care, and I don’t. Yes, I make sure my angles are good. Yes, I prep and prepare the look to serve it. But I can’t worry about what someone on the internet thinks about what I look like.

If I cared about these words on the internet? A mess. The way diet pills, waist trainers, instant fat slimmers and the like are being shoved down the throats of young Women is disgusting. I remember when European skinny was the standard. It’s still the standard with some Black aesthetics thrown in there for ✨razzle dazzle✨. I do want to say, there is nothing wrong with wanting to look HOWEVER you want. It becomes a problem when there is only one standard and everyone else is othered.

I don’t buy into that market. I already did once. I took dietary supplements when I was too young. I tried to cover my stretch marks with bronzer. You see how hard I tried to fix or hide parts of myself? The thing about lingerie is that I can’t hide. I’ve pondered this every now and then. Particularly because of my self-harm scars. I was quite insecure about them for some time. Time is what I needed to process what I had done to myself and what I was left with. I’m not ashamed of them anymore. It is what it is. I even dabble in some dark humor when it comes to my mental health. Got a dark TikTok that’ll never see that light of day. Made me giggle.

Like I was saying, with lingerie I can’t hide. There’s nothing to hide if I must be completely honest. I don’t need any validation from the outside world. I can fully say, at the age of 28, I have a strong sense of self. I’m leaning into what I truly enjoy. I’m cultivating solid relationships in my life. I’m finding so much time to read. I’m excited for what is to come. I’m happy to be alive and that’s all I ever wanted.


*I started writing this jawn April 25th.

*Youtube: Chile, look. I’m still figuring it out. I was in the middle of filming a lingerie review, right? But then I was all in my head about being overtly sexualized on the internet so I chalked it. I wasn’t happy recording and I want to be happy when I’m filming and sharing things with you guys. That just wasn’t it. So yeah, I’ll figure it out at some point.

I’ve also been thinking about the kind of content I want to see from myself. I am overwhelmed with ideas, and have a hard time scheduling them. Some are quick one and done. Others require a meticulous hand. I’m so quick to say I can pull something off in one night. That needs to end soon. I need to love the process.


So I took some time with this one. A few days. As I write this, I’m still not sure when you’re gonna get it. I’m going to go through and edit.

As I sit here, it’s a Monday. I took Nezuko to the vet. Came home and made myself breakfast. Handled some housekeeping for EXACTLY two hours. (My kink is being on time. Honestly, truly. Chef’s Kiss.) Got everything done. Then I had plenty of time to deal with some personal projects. The day isn’t over, and I’m thankful for the time that I do have. I’m sitting cross-legged in bed and Nezuko is sleeping by my right thigh. I appreciate her company.

Thank you for reading!! You are always appreciated. I have some drafts I need to stop sitting on. This month I’m working on some house projects. Little things here and there. Regular upkeep. Adding more space, and throwing some things out. I’ve been dying for a hot day to open all my windows and do some real spring cleaning. I’m doing what I can here and there and that’s good enough.

I love my blog. I love being able to freely write about my life. I love YOU for reading through, AND reading my little tidbits at the end. Thorough. I like that in you. Having this blog has allowed me to create my own space on the internet. I’ve started blogs before, but never really kept up with them. This one? It feels like I’m chatting amongst friends. It feels warm. It feels valid.

The blog itself is changing. We’re both going to trust the process on this one, okay? Thank you once again and I’ll see you soon. 💕

One response to “Baby, this one is personal.”

  1. Thank you for sharing this post! It is so inspirational to see others being vulnerable and taking charge of their life.

    Like

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