Fuck Food.


Ever have that kind of “bleh” day that turns into a week of “meh” vibes?? Yep, me too. Mine started last Monday. I went out to eat with some girlfriends (Speedy Romeo, I’m looking at you) and devoured pizza smothered in veal meatballs and pickled jalapeños. After eating half the pie, I took the bus home—with my leftovers—but hopped off at Gristedes first to pick up a pint of Halo Top (or two).  Might as well turn the cheat meal into a proper feast.

But that’s when things spiraled. I’m a thicky gal that has a binge eating problem. My lack of self-control and willpower is impressive, yet scary. I’ve been taking charge of my eating—and life—since January with quite the spin class addiction. While Soul Cycle is not my studio of choice, I found a home at an immersive place where the instructors genuinely cared about me, my journey, and my life. 50+ pounds later, I’m still going strong. (I’m saving all this weight babble for another post—stay tuned!) But to sum up, my diet has also dramatically changed. I’m no longer ordering Seamless dinner three times a week or piling on the delicious cold-roasted potatoes on the Citarella salad bar for lunch. RIP deliciousness.

But my point here is that I’ve been feeling AMAZING. New body. New clothes. New healthy vibes floating around me. My aura reader is seriously impressed with my progress. (You read that right. MY AURA READER.) But just like any human being, I allow myself to slip back to the depths of saturated fats and enjoy the “finer” foods of life every once and a while.

The second-day pizza was too delicious.  As well as the second pint of Halo Top. You see, I went to Speedy Romeo on a Saturday night. So when I woke up that next day with nothing to do but eat, I did just exactly that. Leftover pizza. Fresh Halo Top. Then a spin class to try and make up for it. But naturally, that made me ravished so I came home to gobble up the Trader Joe’s treats purchased that day. On Monday I got up, worked out at the gym, went to work and all was right again. Until that evening when I received a RUSH request from a freelance client. Ugh, here we go. The dark cloud of dread formed and the only thing that could make it better was carbs.

I woke up early Tuesday to head over to my favorite neighborhood coffee shop to bang out this project instead of heading to the gym like normal. Feeling down on myself (for no reason whatsoever) I ordered an everything bagel with cream cheese to get me through the work. I told myself that it was just a bagel and to not let the carbs persuade me to join them in the dark depths of bread Heaven. But, fuck. They got me with their warm fuzzies and sugary delight. That night I came home to a bag of Flamin Hot Cheetos and another Halo Top. Successful dinner, I know. Tomorrow I told myself. TOMORROW. So I booked a 7:00am spin class and went to bed.

But then 3:00am rolled around and so did the Cheetos demanding to be expelled from the depths of my soul. Needless to say my spin studio received a dramatic “I’m not making it” email. Another day down the drain. Fuck again.

The rest of the week got somewhat easier. I continued binging, but this time with Cheerios and Bridget Jones’ Diary.

Monday, I told myself. MONDAY. 



The Girl Behind The Bad Hag

When you’re a 30-something single in NYC, life can be interesting. You fantasize about the cute guy on the subway, you eat one too many Halo Tops for dinner, and you definitely spend all your money on rent, food, and new lipstick.

Wait…is that just me?

Either way, here I am. And I’m diving into the crazy battlefield that is NYC dating. But before we get to the juicy stuff, let’s start with the old me—the Southern Belle me.

Born and raised on the coast of South Carolina, I was a go-with-the-flow kind of gal that let people walk all over her. I was also the excessively chubby one, which didn’t help matters. Growing up I never stood up for myself, I tried to hide in the background, and I would rather die than try something new. I was a follower.

When I hit college I dropped some weight, got my first boyfriend (!!!) and finally started growing that backbone. After I got burned by a few good friends that backbone got even stronger. Bad friends? Who needs ’em! Not me. I was cutting people out of my life left and right. The Facebook “Unfriend” button was my favorite accessory. I held on tight to my ride-or-die girlfriends, found my voice, and never looked back. (Turns out I’m bossy, opinionated, and won’t back down if I believe strongly in something.)

Skipping forward a few years where my weight went up and down and back up again, I dropped even more friends, held some impressive jobs, and finally decided to pack my bags and move to NYC. At 31 my life was starting over. But for the first time, everything felt right. I was where I was supposed to be. Yes, I had no job, but who needs money in NYC? Who cares about that $1700/month rent? I didn’t. I knew it would work out. And so far almost three years in, it has.

So what’s up with The Bad Hag? This will be a place to host my dating adventures—past, present, and future—and other life happenings. Trust me, you’ll want to join the ride. Shit happens to me. It just does.

And for inquiring minds, every “meme” I post will be a real encounter of something that has happened to me. Nothing will be “fake news” folks, nothing.