Sun, Moon and Stars: Chapter One

By every definition, it was yet another picturesque day in Appleby. Bees buzzing in the trees, it must have been just before noon as Nora was blinded by the sunlight shining through the Indian silk scarves pinned around her window as makeshift blinds. Melting into the crisp white linens and pillowy duvet of the large bed, two deer-like blue eyes took a prolonged moment to survey the tiny bedroom. Nora smirked. Cheerful, pale yellow walls adorned with tiny blue flowers encircled the eclectic contents of her life, which ironically felt anything but bright and happy as of late. Struggling to get out of bed, Nora rolled over and pulled a crisp white t –shirt over her thin athletic frame and waltzed her way over to the white dresser opposite to her bed, still pant-less. As she danced around to pull her favourite pair of ripped jeans on, she caught a glimpse of herself in the large gold leafed mirror on the wall and sighed. “Dammit, I’ve cut them too short again”. Nora tied up her curly red mop into a big bun at the very top of her head and attempted to fix the bangs she had trimmed the other day, which now accidentally sat above her thick eyebrows and framed her mostly freckled face. Ready to brave the world, Nora lazily dragged her feet down the narrow hall of the heritage home she lived in with her parents, and childishly hopped down the white, creaky staircase to the kitchen. The house was annoyingly quiet and empty. For a moment, Nora had forgotten that her parents, were travelling for work. Both, established and renowned anthropologists, Jane and Samuel Pierson were in Australia for the summer, working with the indigenous populations for research.

Finding comfort in the solitude, Nora made a large mug of coffee; black and strong and went to sit in the large wicker chair by the window, facing the lush garden her mother had planted. It was her first day back from university,  and Nora was already thinking about returning to her modest and neurotically neat apartment at the edge of her university campus- missing her sanctuary. With an uneasy stomach, Nora curled up with her knees just under her chin and looked down at the delicate little promise ring on her finger that Philip had given her the other night upon her return. “Now what?” she thought, painfully chugging the rest of her coffee.

Sun, Moon and Stars: An Introduction

I’ve toyed with the idea of writing a romance novel for quite some time now, and have finally taken a leap of faith. Instead of compiling the work all at once, I’ve decided to post a chapter at a time, here. This is my first dive into the literary field, any comments or constructive criticism is much appreciated. I am humbled and apologetic that you’ll have to put up with my poor grammar and spelling mistakes, but I hope to paint a picture of the town of Appleby and the complicated life of Nora Elizabeth Pierson.

I’d like to dedicate my work to every girl who feels trapped in a toxic relationship, unsure of her worth- know that you are your own “Sun, Moon and Stars”.


Body hair- friend or foe?

Honestly, I’ve never really given body hair much thought until I was booking an appointment at a local spa for a routine wax when I found myself discussing a friend’s aversion to the “au naturel” look. She recently started to date a new guy and was gushing about the lovey-dovey particulars of her relationship but there was one little problem that was causing her some anxiety. As she put it, he was “a little hairier than most”.

I started thinking, why are we so off put by something that grows freely and naturally on our bodies? When did we start vying the hairless look over good ol’ androgenic hair? Now, don’t get me wrong I prefer the bare feeling, because of both personal preference and aesthetics sake but, was it always this way? If you’ve seen any vintage porn, you DEFINITELY know that’s not the case.

In a world where typing in “body hair” in the Google search bar brings up results for waxes, tweezers, bleaches and trimmers, one wonders when we started placing emphasis on looking hair-free. Body hair is often seen as a masculine feature which leaves some women feeling the pressure to be hairless and perfectly groomed, or risk being labeled a “hippie”- why does that carry a negative connotation?

I’ve even heard of women using body hair as an aversion for hooking up on the first day- being that they’re so uncomfortable with the idea of showing any sort of stubble that they won’t “do the deed” with a guy. This begs me to ask, if a guy is disgusted with the idea of day old leg hair- would I really want to sleep with him anyway?

Body hair is definitely becoming more of a conversation as of late- Emma Watson has openly admitted to caring for her “lady bush” with various oils that promote hair health and boast benefits such as fewer ingrown hairs. Miley Cyrus is also no stranger to letting it grow, and has even gones as far as colouring her armpit hair pink

But with all trends, there seem to be two very polarizing extremes- your “hairy godmother” or obsessing over the stubble. So what’s my take on body hair? I’m a firm believer that you should follow whatever guideline you’re comfortable with; friction-free softness or feeling the wind blow through your hair. Own it, be confident and please shower regularly. Until next time, I’ll be shaving the parts of my legs that aren’t covered by the rips in my worn out skinny jeans.

Body Hair Shame

Image via Pinterest


Love & Airplanes

After a rocky breakup and extensive soul searching, I’ve come to the realization that being single has given me a chance to reconnect with the things that I used to love- like running, and reading. It’s not that I lost interest in either, but I tend to have a bad habit of devoting all my time to my significant other without any self-care. There were weeks where I’d neglect seeing my family, working out and even doing day to day chores. I had this over romanticized notion that I had to make the boyfriend my “everything”. I’ve come to realize that in order to care for someone successfully, I have to care for myself first. It’s the same principal as airplane emergency procedures: if you payed attention to the instructional instead of staring down at your iPad, you’d notice that during a drop in pressure you’re to put your oxygen mask on first before helping others. Why? Because while the other person is all fine and dandy, you’re nearly suffocating. I have come to believe that the same applies relationships. For now, I’m avoiding airplanes.

When It All Began

Last year, I started my first (and possibly only) experience as a nanny in the Beaches area of Toronto. After my morning commute to work and before I started work at 8:30 am, I would pop into The Bandit Coffee Shop on Gerrard St. to grab morning cup of coffee (loads of milk, no sugar) and killed time by chatting to the baristas. I did this every workday morning, for over a year. I started to share my stories, gave occasional relationship advice, and expressed my opinion on recent pop culture phenomena. Encouraged to write about my experiences; akin to Carrie from “Sex and the City”, I started journaling and collecting my thoughts on various topics such as body shaming and body positivity, “rape culture”, modern day dating and courtship, and awkward encounters on the streetcars of Toronto. After a year of contemplating starting a blog, here we are (with my sincere apologies for any grammatical or syntax errors).

Though it seems like I “know what I’m doing”, don’t be fooled- I’m just as awkward and curious as the next 22 year old girl. If you need any proof, let me tell you about the time I was caught completely speechless and covered in coffee.

It was probably the middle of March. That morning, I had made coffee in a tumbler (an insulated Starbucks thermos with the open spout at the top) before leaving the house and taking my liquid gold to go. It was cold, windy and probably still dark as I hopped onto the 501 streetcar towards Neville Park. At some point during my commute, on walked an older bearded stranger with a crisp navy tailored suit, and a close likeness to Patrick Dempsey- but with more grey hair.  In complete contrast to the rest of the sleepy and distracted passengers, this man commanded attention as he stepped onto the slow moving vehicle- and I gawked as anyone else; man or woman, would. Now for the embarrassing part! Somewhere between finding eye contact and attempting to sip my coffee nonchalantly, I managed to miss the little mouth spout and poured coffee down the front of my face, scarf and (waterproof) coat. Yes, all while maintaining eye contact. Embarrassed, red in the face and now coffee-less, I hurried off of the busy streetcar five stops too soon and walked the rest of the way to work. Needless to say, that probably woke me up more than any cup of coffee every would.

The Formalities

Let’s begin by mentioning that my blog contains adult themes that may make some readers uncomfortable. However, my mission is to take taboo topics and attempt to make them a little easier to digest. This is a positive space that will not tolerate any body shaming, bullying or negativity. Your opinion- regardless of stance, is welcome to create healthy dialogue.