Photo by Winj Capital So I accidentally fibbed at the end of 5 Ways I Became a Happier Person (Part 1) when I told you Part 2 was going to be about that time life totally kicked my behind. Originally part of today’s post was going to be about how going through challenges ultimately made me a more grateful and happy person, but it just wasn’t coming together. It felt like I was rehashing a lot of the same things I’ve talked about in previous posts about how modeling/eating disorders/the fashion world broke me down but also turned me…
Photo by Winj Capital You’re at the gym minding your own business and a girl walks up to you. “Do you want to hear about my fitness journey?” She asks. Cheerfully. Authoritatively.
I washed myself some cherries And was struck by how they gleamed crimson in the bowl Taught and waxy like mahogany.
Anyone who’s been reading this blog for a hot minute knows ASOS is my favorite, and I wanted to let everyone know they have a lot of dresses marked down 20% right now!!!!
Dress ($40) / Heels ($27) One time as a teen, I was ranting and rambling about something I reallyreallyreally wanted (no idea what) and my Dad finally turned to me and said calmly and deliberately, without addressing whether or not I had any shot at getting whatever permission/item I wanted, “Maya, you have the ability to obsess like no other.”
Hey friends, I’m back! I’m going to see if I’m capable of writing a brief, lighthearted post for once 😉
It started with a nudge from Stephen about four months ago. “Do you have a cutoff?” he asked gently. “You’ve been at this for awhile now and you’re still not making a real income from it. Do you have an estimate of when you’ll want to move on? You have so many other gifts and talents. There is just so much left to chance in the fashion industry.”
When Stephen turned twenty-seven (about a year and a half ago) we got into a fight. Not on his actual birthday, but during one of the weeks leading up to it. I was nagging him to be more serious about Life Things now that he was almost in his *late* twenties instead of mid-twenties, and he was insisting that twenty-seven still counted as “mid-twenties” and your late twenties began at twenty-eight.
Hello dear readers, Today I wanted to share a piece I wrote just shy of two years ago, right after coming back from Milan. I originally published it on my old blog and deleted it the next day–I wasn’t ready to share this much of myself. Two years (and lots of over-sharing!) later, here it is. I probably should have done something cute like share it on the exact anniversary of my return to San Francisco, but I felt strongly compelled to share it today.
Growing up, my dad was a minimalist and always gave little lectures on having few material belongings that you need, treasure, and take care of. He preached this way of life so often that my sister and I jokingly called it “Sermon Number One.”