In true cougar mode, I exited the 1 train at 116th St Columbia University trying to blend; rockin' an Adidas track suit and a ponytail hoping to grasp the attention of Ivy Leaguers half my age just to prove I've still got it. With divorce pending and a recent discovery of my 1st gray hair in the middle of pole dance class, I needed some type of validation. I was simultaneously PMSing and craving comfort food.
My marriage ended the year that "Vicky Cristina Barcelona" was released and I was convinced that both Spain and Javier Bardem were my true destiny. I romanticized about running away to Barcelona, re-inventing myself and falling into the arms of my new Latin lover. We'd spend our mornings making love, afternoons making art and, in the evenings, slip into a cozy Spanish bar for wine, tapas and live guitar. Cut to: 3 years later and I'm still single and living in NYC. And although far less romantic, I've found a new Latin love called El Taller on the Upper West Side of NYC.
If you don’t love yourself first, how do expect anyone else to love you? How many times have you readthat in a self-help book! Well, I recently came to the realization that, when it comes to food, rather than loving and nurturing my body, I was nurturing my addiction for all things fatty and salty; specifically cheese and bacon.
