I really like to look like a history book. I can look the 1940s, I can look 1970s hippie-chic, or sometimes I’ll pull that ’80s Brooklyn hip-hop kid with the door-knocker earrings.
There are a lot of things that are personally uncomfortable to show, especially me without makeup and completely bloated or crying. But I’ve realized that it’s time for me to show my audience that you don’t have to be perfect to achieve your dreams. Because nobody relates to being perfect.
I say what I think. I’m a real person, not some manufactured pop tart who’s afraid to step out of the hotel room. I am flawed. I swear I have the occasional cocktail, I pick my nose and I fart. I’m not running for any presidential campaign at the moment. I’m a sassy girl.
I remember really vividly kneeling by my bed as a nine-year-old, saying my prayers and asking God to give me boobs that were so big that if I laid on my back I wouldn’t be able to see my feet.
