My Eat Pray Love Era
photo by arantxa villa
My Eat Pray Love Era
fourth year carlie gambino
Damaged and Thin
Freshman year me thought she was grown. Taylor Swift said it best: “How can a person know everything at 18 but nothing at 22?” I would never have admitted to listening to T-Swift back then either. I was much more into gatekeeping new alt music I found and denying that yes, like most people, I also enjoy catchy pop radio tunes. I was obsessed with perfection, never overslept for class, and was fraught over the potential of an A minus.
College smacked me in my giant forehead when I learned that no, sitting in class and learning all day was not fulfilling and would not lead to an enlightened life. The time felt empty, so I needed to find something else to perfect. I tried running and restricting my diet, but I almost withered away, unaware of the happiness that existed outside of perfection.
I found solace in taking care of my hair. My roommate, Abby, had gorgeous spiral curls and said that with love and care, my hair could flourish too. So then I began deep conditioning my hair once a week, in my tiny dorm room, hiding the plastic bag over my hair from my (different) racist roommate.
Trying but Spiraling
Never thought I’d be saying thank goodness we got yeeted out of UGA during spring break 2020, but here I am. I went to a curly hair specialist on March 7 because my once damaged hair was blossoming into waves that were starting to dabble in the curly department. That curl specialist gave me a little orphan Annie curly bob. With his whole chest, he cut off all of my hair. I showed him that my hair sprung up 2-3 inches, yet he chose to ignore my warning. Nothing is more terrifying than being spun around in a hairdresser’s chair hating the cut only to be asked “Don’t you love it?”
March 2020 truly started one the worst year and a half of my life (but here I am– alive and thriving). Picture this: Carlie with a bob so short it doesn’t fit into my signature ponytail, trying to keep up with her gym grind in her childhood living room with free weights, CNN blasting because God forbid we miss one of the daily COVID-19 updates.
My hair was curlier than ever, which I think is a great metaphor for how I was crazier than ever. Anxiety, eczema, PCOS, cystic acne, and an eating disorder all reared their nasty heads, which led me to tests that resulted in my newest personality trait: gluten intolerance.
Eat Pray Love
I’m currently in my “Eat Pray Love” era (the classic, 2000s style recently divorced woman finds herself by traveling the world) after lots of therapy, boundary setting, and figuring out what makes me happy– all the cliches. Now I know that I will never have everything figured out because no one does.
I’ve got acne scars, stretch marks, and I’ve kicked disordered eating to the curb. Only some of my hair has full spiral curls, and I’m just now getting back into weight lifting. I now trim my hair with $5.99 hair scissors from Walmart.
I’m eating to fuel my body with nutrients, with joy, and with memories I’ll never forget. I know that drinking boba tea and eating gyoza outside of the downtown Chick-Fil-A instead of finishing that one homework assignment on time is not going to make or break my future.
I’m finding peace in knowing that the church I was raised in is not the end-all-be-all of religion. I can have my own social and political beliefs. I now know many others share these beliefs.
I’m in a long-distance relationship of almost four years now. We’ve both grown separately but just so happen to still love each other, and I think that’s pretty cool. I’ve learned that whenever someone asks when we’re getting married to simply smirk and remind myself we’re all on our own timetables. I’m loving someone with my whole heart, and looking forward to the future without the dread of self-imposed deadlines.
Perfectionism, begone! From here on out it’s only eating, praying, and loving to my fullest capacity. I’d rather spend my time hiking and traveling and dreaming than stressing about the small stuff.
These days I wake up every morning, rub the sleep from my eyes, look in the mirror and seriously ask, “Don’t you love it?”