A Post-Election Nasty Letter to My Grandma(s) ~ ILY

Hi there folks. This post comes late for a reason. For those who know me, staying silent is not my strong suit (ok I can feel the eye rolls, just love me ok?!), but the post-election blues hit me harder than I anticipated–quite possibly because I did not anticipate the outcome.

Things are about to get political, so for my friends and readers that have differing opinions, I encourage you to not look away in disgust, but rather try to learn the other side’s opinion. Okay, I know, sounds easier than it is, but hey that’s life. If we all had the same ideas and same feelings and same opinions and same religions, well that would not be much of a free world, now would it?

While I am (yes, still) a staunch Hillary supporter as well as am appalled by our President-Elect’s behavior, morals and viewpoints…I have accepted that Donald Trump will be our next president.

Okay, before my fellow bleeding blues blowup in disgust, I applaud protestors and those speaking their mind, fighting for their impassioned hearts and beliefs. I understand [some of] the reasons for people voting for The Donald.

I hear the frustration of those fed up with our gridlocked government. I understand the fear of the unknown, the things that make us different. I get that there are people who stress more over building something for their grandchildren, than helping to shape a world where those same future people can feel safe in being who or whatever they want to be.

What I am saying is, I understand reasons for being Republican. I understand fiscal security and a proclivity to lean towards security and a mindset that have helped shape our young country. I completely get the values of the Republican party. Hell, I even studied aspects of it for the last five years (shoutout to AP Comparative Government and Politics in high school).

The thing is, no matter how upset I am over the current state of affairs and the level of hate and fear involved in supporting someone as radical as Donald Trump, I still believe in our government. I believe in our unalienable rights, our ability to vote for matters than mean the most. I believe in our government, the peaceful transition of power and I believe in our constitution (I even have a few favorite amendments a la the first, 14th and 19th). I am trying to preface this post with the point that I am attempting with all of my might, education and compassion to come at this issue from a somewhat open view of things.

Anyways, this is real, this is me, and I have no apologies for my long contemplated, researched and developed opinions of which I am about to expand upon. I’d like to write the rest of this post in the form of a letter, to my grandmother(s) who have seen so much in the fight for womens’ rights, and have taught me even more about what it means to be a woman.

Be kind, be understanding, but most of all please be a nasty woman.

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Dear Grandma(s),

Wow #blessed that you’re reading my blog, you’re both very technologically savvy ladies. While one of you is a die-hard Dem, and the other quite the Republican, I believe your differing views have helped me shape my own opinions. So, thanks for being you!

Anyways, I am sorry. I am sorry that the last 70+ years have not made a big enough difference for half of the country. I cannot believe that after we got the 19th amendment, a portion of this country used it to return us back to a time in our nation’s history where women’s bodies were not considered their own.

I am sorry that you’ve had to listen to such disgusting rhetoric about women, courtesy of our future president.

I honestly thought Hillary could do it. I thought she could win. I thought that people could put their differnces and fears aside and make a decision that would impact and benefit someone other than the privileged white men of this country.

While one of you is anti-Hill, and the other worships her as much as I do, I think we can all agree that the speech used during this election proved appalling.

Yes, mudslinging has been around since the dawn of our young nation, but when did these attacks color an entire half of the nation? When did women revert back to second class citizens? We have fought so hard. I graduated from a solid university with a hard-earned degree and GPA–with both of you smiling from ear to ear.

I graduated alongside Muslims, Hindus, Christians of every sect, Jews (holla at ya gurl), and those of countless other religions. If we can all stand side by side, graduate with the same level of education and respect and appreciate one another, why can’t we accomplish the same task as a society for a more prolonged period of time?

Sure, not everyone got along all of the time, but at the end of the day we all knew we were human.The curves of our bodies and color of our skin were all indistinguishable beneath our red graduation robes.

You both played such a strong role in exemplifying the meaning of a strong woman (especially mom, here’s to you DatzGold). You taught me how to learn and listen to those with differing opinions, how to rock patterned pants and that I am worth more than you were told you were way back when.

I want you both to know, that one day a woman will be president. That people will learn to be more understanding. That there will come a day when a woman’s rights are human’s rights. That what you’ve witnessed and continue to hear will no longer be a factor. That because I, or your great grandchild, great great grandchild, etc. am a woman I will no longer be compared to a man. Since when did my gender play a role in my education or ability to work hard?

So, while I am not proud that this is still the America we live in, that, you have not seen the social change of which you deserve–I strongly believe that a woman’s place is wherever the hell she chooses. That a woman can be the leader of the free world, raise children…both. That my 75 cents will one day become a dollar. You both have worked too hard in your lives to not see a woman become president.

While fear and hate might have trumped love this time, I want you to know that will never happen in my heart, because I have both of you in my life to make sure that I know the meaning of love.

So, whether both or only one of you voted for Hillary–I don’t care. I care that you know that you’ve impacted my life in such a love, positive-filled way as to never create someone that would accept negative rhetoric and hate speech from their future president. I won’t accept hateful language and xenophobia as the norm. I will use my words to help others, just like your unconditional love has always helped me.

2020 will be our time. Michelle Obama for President (calling it here and now).

Love you oodles,



Pop, Fizz, Clink to 2015

As tomorrow brings a new day and with it a new year, I feel it an appropriate time to take a glance back at 2014’s Highs and Lows (in life and blood sugar).

First things first (I’m the realest-jk), 2014 showed me, well… myself. I discovered my strengths (in my self and in my friends and family), my weaknesses (always chocolate cake and Netflix) and everything in between.

2014 revealed my Diabetes. 2014 showed me that I can laugh through the sadness. And, at the risk of sounding dramatic (LOL classic me) 2014 personified my future. No more late night snacking on whatever I want, no more morning workouts without eating breakfast, no more- well no more normal life.

However, with the changes of 2014, I can say yes to healthy eating, yes to routine, yes to friends and family that continue to support me and my constant babbling about my health and life aspirations. With 2014 I say yes to London and New York City and Boston. I say yes to the Florida sun and tanning on the beach with my pumps out for the world to see. I say yes to so much-yes to me.


As quickly as I glanced back at 2014, I look forward to 2015.

Next year brings new, untold stories, adventures, friends, countries, twists and turns and so much more. I would be lying if I said I was not anxious about what the future holds, but with that anxiety comes a semblance of strength. With a year like 2014, and all of those twenty-something years that got me to where I am today, I know that with every year comes a new lesson, and every lesson an important block in the foundation of my life.

2015 is an unwritten chapter in my life story, and I cannot wait to see what this chapter brings.

Stay tuned for London posts! I will also post abroad updates on this blog. Let me know if you have any specific ideas for posts!

Stay beautiful and kind!


The In Between (Boston and London edition)

The view from my dorm.

The view from my dorm.

With a flip of my (extremely long at this point) hair, the fall semester of my junior year at BU appears to be over. After a semester of literal blood, sweat, and tears, I have to say this ending seems more bitter sweet than others.

Being a junior in college is great. You know who your friends are, you’ve declared your major, you’re on your way to becoming…well, a real person. So to end a semester filled with friends and fun, pack everything up into (6!) boxes and move out of your comfort zone of beautiful Boston to study abroad in London–seems a little terrifying to say the least.

Anywho, my family packed me up and moved me out of my dorm of two years at BU, to return next fall–my senior year of college. Let me repeat, I will not return to Boston until my senior year of college. Let that sink in. While that is only 9 months away, that is insane to think that the next school year I spend in Boston will be my last as an undergrad.

I feel like just yesterday I stepped off of the plane at Logan Airport into the tundra of possibilites that Boston holds. Now, I find myself two and a half years older, substantially wiser (in my opinion), diabetic, and with a whole new outlook on life.

Life isn’t always the perfect creme brulee. I am finding that perhaps, it’s those low moments (in blood sugar and life) that define us. Maybe, those lows make the highs all the better, make the good times shine brighter than the shadows of the darkest days. (Wait, were those song lyrics?)

Although I miss my amazing friends already, I cannot wait to make new ones in London, and explore a country new to me. I cannot wait to travel and taste and see new things. I cannot wait to meet new people. I cannot wait for tea and crumpets and accents! London seems like a new page–not an end to an old book, but more like a new chapter to an ever-growing novel.

This is real, this is me, these are my thoughts. el oh el.

Happy Holidays everyone! Expect a few more posts before I hop across the pond (as they say).

Stay classy! To my friends up north, stay warm!


A Diabetic Thanksgiving


Shoutout to my talented twin for making the pies!

I love Thanksgiving. I always have, and I always will. Thanksgiving and I go way back, and our love blooms from the fact that my mother is a chef. She is an amazing chef that cooks the best (in my humble opinion) mashed sweet potatoes with brown sugar and pecans, the best cranberry sauce, the best fudge pecan pie and pumpkin pie—well you get the picture. She’s fantastic. She’s like Martha Stuart minus the jail time and uptightness. Okay, maybe that was a little harsh on Martha. Martha, if by some odd twist of fate you’re reading this, you rock don’t ever change.

This Thanksgiving was my first as a Type 1 Diabetic (RIP pancreas, it was a great 20 years).

While I longed to fill my plate with large unwarranted portions of carbs and fat and everything delicious… diabetes got in the way.

Now, I know what you’re thinking: Poor Emily, not able to over eat on a holiday that exacerbates Americans’ issues with obesity and their climbing rise of obesity, also ironically, type 2 Diabetes. So yes America, you are literally eating yourselves into a disease where you cannot eat what you were eating before. Irony? Moderation people. I digress.

Anyways, back to my first Carb-controlled Thanksgiving.

While I got to eat almost everything that I normally do (except the ice cream AND pie, but I mean, that really is gratuitous isn’t it? Well that’s what I’m telling myself at least), I still wished I could eat without worrying about how much insulin I gave myself and if my pump could handle the carb-load that is Thanksgiving dinner.

Shoutout to my talented twin for making the pies!

That being said, I had a few high blood sugar numbers, while on the whole, it went well. I learned that diabetes, although sucky and just a bad disease in general, does not mean that I have to swear off of the foods that I love. Everything is about moderation. I have learned self-control, and maybe, just maybe, that is the silver lining of having a faulty pancreas—andType 1 Diabetes.

This Thanksgiving, I realized that I am thankful for my family, friends, food and most of all: Insulin. While I hope that one day I can be thankful for a cure, until now, insulin will have to do.

So as finals approach, and I find myself reaching towards chocolate instead of carrots, I’ll take what i’ve learned and realize I can have one square, and then eat the carrots and pretend that I am eating chocolate. They say seeing is believing… well if I see the chocolate and eat the carrots… that works too, right?

There actually might be such a thing as too much icing, but there is not such a thing as too much beach. I miss Florida sometimes.


Stay warm you beautiful people~


Home is with the ones I love

I’ve been so busy, sorry for the lack of posts! I’ve been thinking, and this post is a product of those thoughts.



They say home is where the heart is, but what if your heart is all over the place? And by “they,” I obviously mean the wise people that came up with the phrase. I think that hearts are kind of like puzzles. Every meaningful person in your life comprises a piece of that puzzle, and with one or many of them missing, how can you feel whole?

I’ve gone the last few years 1100 miles away from my parents and grandparents, most of my aunts uncles and cousins, 1000 miles from my friends, 212 miles from my older sister and 106 miles from my twin sister. With distances like these, I speak to the important people in my life frequently, mostly on a weekly or monthly basis, and that helps with the many miles between us.

That being said, I’ve found another family, another home. Another place to call my own. Lol ok that was song lyrics I really can’t be serious can i? Ok, I digress.

Growing up is about making new homes, making new family while somehow managing to keep the old one. Family isn’t just blood, it’s the people that wait for you outside of your room for you to get home with ice cream and a hug when you have a bad day. Family are the people that make you laugh so hard you have the hiccups. The ones that can tell you when you’re being a brat or diva, the people that hold your hand during scary movies and the scary times in life. Home is whenever I’m with any of you.

This weekend a friend reminded me of how important my family is to me. My family, blood and those that probably should be blood at this point- will always have a special place in my heart. While I sit on this train and look at the strangers around me, I can’t help but wonder if they have the type of family that offers to fly you home on a whim, or people in their lives that would bike across campus in the rain with my favorite ice cream, or bake me a sugar free cake for my birthday in the throws of blood sugar problems (that I now know as diabetes). I wonder how I became blessed with such great friends and family, and how I would be different if I didn’t grow up knowing that I always had someone on and by my side.

Don’t get me wrong, my family is far from perfect. But there is beauty in imperfection. There is beauty in the breakdown, and there is beauty in every single person. I may not be the most optimistic person, and damn do I have my faults, but I also have the people that bring out my light. I wouldn’t trade them for the world- or diabetes.

Just some food for thought. More posts to come soon!

xoxo stay classy… and warm