It’s in west Africa where I feel the most beautiful. There are barely any mirrors in the places I seem to stay and visit. People do not react to my white skin and blond hair. Men easily and vocally appreciate the body which my entire life has been called, “big boned”. People cry when I leave and dance when I arrive. I understand this kind of existence.

I am re-reading, for the dozen-th time, Don Miguel Ruiz’s “The Fifth Agreement”. Every time I read these simple words, I laugh and cry and wonder how the words have re-arranged themselves to form an entire new meaning for me. I have never ever re-read something so many times. Just like movies I watch- once i have read a book, it’s an experience that I will more likely than not NOT re-visit.

This re-read’s time around of The Fifth Agreement I am most struck with his explanation on how this reality we collectively experience is perceived entirely different by every single Artist, that is, every single human. The words that we agree to understand and communicate with hold tremendous difference in significance for each one of us. The word perfect means something entirely different to me than to you. The power of the word perfect has been programed and crammed into my mind in a completely unique way than it has been ingrained into your mind.

When we were children before learning how to speak and before we learned to associate words with what we were perceiving in our world, we just accepted everything we witnessed. A tree was a tree without a word and without the definition of “ugly tree” or “beautiful tree”. A tree was just PRESENCE and was just EXISTING. We hadn’t learned the words to place judgement on the tree. We simply witnessed the tree.

I want to return to that place. And mostly, I have. I place no judgement on anyone nor on the things around me. Yet my 32 years of learned-ability to have terrible self-esteem still lingers in the shadows of my personality and existence. Sometimes, though, it emerges from the shadows and dances like a terrible self-created monster in front of me in broad daylight! The shame from having acne as a teenager presents it’s self every time i get a sprinkle of pimples. When I look in the mirror I see a “big” girl and I inhale deeply, hold my breath and fantasize about being one of those naturally thin beauties.

But then I snap out of it and I scream, “WAIT A MINUTE! Who the HELL is making up this story? My pimples do not make me an ugly human, my luscious curves do not make me what our society calls fat. I am just ME!!!!” I realize that with the words I have leaned as a child and with the meanings I have agreed to give them through out my life, I judge myself and I inflict SELF SUFFERING!!!!!!!!!!!! AGHHHHH!!!

WHAT has HAPPENED to us, Sisters?!

I had a boyfriend many years ago break-up with me because i was “gaining too much weight”. Ever since then I have been terrified of gaining weight and have accomplished some serious self-suffering. I am so not alone in this battle. Yet why, WHY, sisters, do we choose a BATTLE?!?! WHY do we choose a BATTLE WITH OUR SWEET BEAUTIFUL SELVES?!?!?

I am putting down my sword and my chest armor. I stand naked in front of you with my love handles and my cellulite and my pimples on my chin, and I care not which words you would like to place on me. They are your words and I no longer agree with them. I am perfect in this body that I have been given.

As I enter my 4th month of being pregnant, I am going to re-define the feeling of shame and “ugliness” that so often trails pregnant women. I need no man to appreciate this beautiful body. I love it to the last fucking drop.

I love this body.

Eva came to me from the Heavens. I really do not know how she found me, but I am eternally grateful she did. She is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. All she could see, however, where the self-inflicted stories of suffering ie: NOT being beautiful. Her mother told her she was ugly her whole life. Her words have been messed with deeply with un-truths. I couldn’t BELIEVE the beauty as I photographed her. WHY DO WE SUFFER sisters? We are so perfect, let’s see it NOW while we are still alive! Let’s be our OWN lovers and our OWN biggest fans! Let US LOVE our sweet, tender and authentic bodies! Let us make the deepest love to OURSELVES!

This is why I love photography. I see it as a medicinal tool to eliminate the un-truthful words we have agreed to place on ourselves. It is a a tool of beauty. I love photographing my sisters and killing the monsters of Self Suffering. I love planting the seeds of Authentic Appreciation for Personal Beauty with No Judgement. Only Love.