Leila

Leila calls herself Outgoing Greatness Sweet Smartass Energetic. She is in her late thirties, the mother of two teenage boys, raised in the South in a Middle Eastern immigrant family. She recently moved back into her parents’ home after leaving her children’s father after 20 years. She works long hours in the travel industry, where she landed after twenty years in restaurants, and loves that it lets her see and taste the world. She lives with daily pain from several chronic conditions and refuses to let it lead: Tomorrow isn't promised and I'm not letting pain limit the joys of life.

Her childhood had a sharp edge. After a terror attack in the news, classmates told her it was my family that did it. She learned that you will always have your own back, and made herself a rule: Anytime a new student came to school, I made sure I said hi. Her food heritage was not the one her friends knew. At home it was Rice everyday all day. With lentils. With tomatoes. With dill and lima beans. … Nothing fried. Nothing american. My friends would always tell me it wasn't food. Her first fast food came in fifth grade, and when she got a car, I could go anywhere and it felt great. Now her mother cooks for her again, in a kitchen Leila is not allowed to use: She's bossy.

Her body has its own story, and she tells it plainly. Years ago an orthopedic surgeon warned that she would be in a wheelchair by the time I was 35 if nothing changed; she chose weight-loss surgery and has kept a large loss for seven years. She eats rice and meat, About a cup every 4 hours. Her philosophy of pleasure is precise: As soon as I deny myself, the binging starts. So she lets herself have what she wants, once a cookie a pound and a half that took three days. In the stress of the past year she lost weight, then began eating whatever I can get my hands on, and afterwards feels scared that I will gain my weight back again. She weighs herself daily and calls the scale a motivation; she also has nightmares of standing on the scale. Both are hers to hold, and this portrait does not try to resolve them.

Her empathy is her superpower and her cost: I feel what others feel, so people can't lie to me very well. It's a double edge sword. After work she sits in her car for fifteen minutes before i walk into the house. Her weakness: I'll be there for everyone, but self care is tough. I am trying to be there for myself now. She has started a morning ritual: exercise, a journal, and an encouraging message to someone before she picks up her phone. Watching her mother’s pain taught her: We are all handed lemons. It just depends on how sour you want them to be. Her 2 a.m. person is a former partner, now her best friend.

On cost, she gave the study one of its clearest lines: Sometimes a salad looks really good, but it's almost 10 dollars. Where as a burger is a dollar. During the diary week a friend died, and Leila’s routines fell apart. She noticed that her friend’s stress had been high: I don't want that in my life.

Her vision board is not a board: My pictures are my future. Her letter: If you slip up, dust your shoulder off and keep going as if nothing happened. Nobody is perfect.