What is keeping us from ourselves?

I guess it doesn’t matter how many times I tell women how beautiful they are. It doesn’t even matter showing them how amazing their bodies are, regardless of their weight. Recently, I was lucky enough to speak at a radio show with the Wise Women Canada, and I honestly thought more women would come to me — but no, they didn’t. I’m not frustrated; I’m sad. Do you know why? Because I go for a walk with my son every day at the park, and I see so clearly the difference between the women who feel confident, and the ones who don’t. I always have my flyers and my business cards with me, but I just feel like they would through it out in less than 5 minutes.

So please, talk to me. Of course my work is not for free, but that’s really not why I’m trying to reach out to you (I have a son to support, so unfortunately I can’t do it for free. But I’m pretty sure my price is the lowest you will find in Montreal.)

You know who’s the person who helps me the most? My husband, Jeremy. Even when I was pregnant and huge, he would look at me and tell me how beautiful I was. Not a day goes by without him looking at me and telling me, “damn, you’re so hot!” Yes, I’m lucky to have him. But if your husband doesn’t say that to you every day, I DO.

You’re hot, you’re beautiful, you’re amazing.

This is one of my favourite scenes, EVER. It’s from the movie “Eat, Pray, Love.” Please, watch it (it’s less than 2 minutes! Come on!).

 

That’s my message to you (and myself, obviously).

Love,

Roberta

 

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What’s the point of all this craziness?

Last time I saw my therapist, she asked me very interesting questions, such as: “what’s the point of loosing all this weight?”, “what’s your reward for weighting so little?”, “does it make you feel better about yourself?” etc. The more I think about it, the less I can find a reason to all this suffering. No, it doesn’t make me feel better about myself because, no matter how much weight I lose, it’s never, ever enough. Having an eating disorder is like being best friends with the devil — and he never shuts up. Ever.

The lowest I got was 42.8kg (94.3 pounds), and I look at myself in the mirror and saw a big, obese person — regardless of the numbers or my clothes barely fitting me anymore. Having a mental illness is the most exhausting thing in the world, because you always have a war in your mind.

So why be like this? Why be like me? I know we can’t choose not to think about certain things, but we do have the power to shut up some thoughts, before it’s too late. I’ve been photographing so many beautiful girls after I started my project “La Peau Sauvage” and I wish they all knew how amazing they look. Hopefully, I’ll help them see how stunning they are, regardless of their weight and body type. I’ll make this my life mission, if necessary. I know how much I suffer every day, and I don’t want anyone else to feel this way.

Back to my therapist’s question: what’s the goal, what’s the reward? I don’t know anymore, because I’m lost — I can’t find my way back. But YOU can! And I’m here to help all of you. You can send me messages here, we can chat in private by email and, if you live in Montreal, we can definitely schedule a photoshoot.

Here’s where you can find me:

Don’t feel shy to reach out. Our conversations will be completely private.

Lots of love to all of you!

Painful heart

This is for you who thinks you’re not worth it — but you are. Here’s to all of your blank nights, blank days and blank souls. Cheers! Let’s drink to all your sadness. All your lonely days, and your lonely nights. Let’s drink to all your misery; let’s drink to all our misery — all at once, all at the same time. Every time you think you’re alone, you’re not. I’m here with you, we’re here with you. Embrace the sadness, embrace the dark. There’s no light, there’s no happy ending. It’s just you and me; it’s just you and the rest of the world. Everybody is sad, there’s always something missing. Happiness is just around the corner, but you keep reminding me of what sadness feels like.

Blurred painting

Blank. My defences were low and my emotions were running free, willing to create the most beautiful thing one would ever see. I started with the colours, not the shapes. Black and white to keep the basics, a very pale pink to give it some life, and the most beautiful bright blue in the world to make it deeply soulful. Once I had chosen the colours, I needed to choose the right brushes; and that’s what I did — I carefully chose each and every one of them. I opened the window and looked at the clouds; they were ready to witness what I was about to start. It took me a while to finally have the courage to start filling the white canvas with the colours, I won’t lie. It was the blue — yes, that blue — that gave me the push I needed. The brush in one hand, a hot cup of coffee in the other; I was unstoppable. “Why not?”, I asked myself, while visualizing in my head what I desperately wanted to become true.

Black. The movement was soft, tender. I could feel my heart beating as I stroked the white canvas with my modified brush — I felt powerful. “It can’t be that hard”, I thought. With the black I created the shapes; I created the most remarkable assets for mundane eyes. It was irregular, unique; it was special. Black, black, black. I took a sip of coffee; it was getting warm — not too hot, not yet too cold –, it was the perfect temperature. Black and white were finally blended; my creation had started to make some progress.

Pink. Just a little, not too much. A pale pink to illustrate the blood; flushed. Emotions, words, confessions, and silence; they all had the same colour. Pink, pink, pink. I left the coffee aside. The stains on my dress won’t let me lie; It was already a piece of art.

Blue. At this point I was a beast; running freely in the woods. I was myself, I wasn’t hiding; I was completely carefree. Happiness lies through details of life; that’s why I finished my painting with the blue. It’s deep, it’s hard, — it’s you. Blue, blue, blue. I couldn’t find my coffee. I closed my eyes and let it flow; the deeper I went, the further you go. Time was something completely obsolete, a stranger in my life. My painting was perfect, flawless. For one brief moment I was an artist, nothing could have stopped me; I had created a work of art.

Blurred. My excitement lead me astray. Pink and black, white and blue; all the colours got mixed up — a storm had started. At first I could only feel the droplets; they were silently invading my house and touching my painting with hostility. Blurred, blurred, blurred. I should have closed the window. Looking around, I saw my cup of coffee; something was telling me I might have left it aside for too long.

Blank. The storm had destroyed my painting; I could feel my heart pounding — I have lost it all. I knew I wouldn’t be able to recreate such beauty, not even if I tried a thousand times. Blank, blank, blank. I had a dream and it had vanished; I knew how beautiful it could have been, and that’s what hurts the most. I close my eyes and I can still see the blue — your blue –, what a daunting feeling.

My hands are cold, and so is my coffee; the excitement has gone away.

Things left unsaid

Stomach twitching, sweat and adrenaline rush. Basic symptoms we feel when we want to say something, but can’t. When we’re so close, yet so far. Morality is a pain sometimes. This is why we have songs, movies, books and blogs – to find some kind of relief. The best artists are the ones who created something from the things they’ve left unsaid. Desire, anger, disappointment, passion, heartbreak, platonic love, etc. These are the best unsaid feelings one could have in order to create something beautiful, something that will touch the hearts of thousands of people. My question is, why do we leave so many things unsaid? Morality is one of the reasons, but what else? Why do I keep all of this to myself? Why do we say “hi!” when we want to say “I’m crazy for you!”? Why do we smile when we want to cry? Why do we say goodbye to someone we want to stay? And why, oh why, do we have to deprive ourselves from happiness just to make other people happy? Morality and commitment, perhaps. I guess I will have to add this to the pile of unanswered questions about all the unsaid things.