My Montreal jazzes to electric blue finger nail tunes.

My city pumps up, spurs and boosts – enticing the glam girl out.

Montreal treats you to artsy outings. Chinatown strolls abouts.

You climb up the Mount Royal park… and the buzz is yours to admire.

Montreal threw some sweet encounters on my way. Fellow modern art museum visitors. There we were, chatting for a time and two.

Sweets and I munched on nachos and lingered upon deep red wine.

Louis Vuitton… just like back in sweet home Paris!

Wandering the metropolises. Nowhere and everywhere to go.

Yummy bubble tea – and other exotic delicacies.

Urban liberty.

This is my early summer.

Dynamite dress, Globo shoes

What if we all felt so-oo sexy, all of a sudden…

Struck a pose, just because.

Giggled away. A time or two.

My dear Anne and her wondrous cupcakes. Pecan caramel. Melt away, will ya!

A night out at friends’. BBQ and funny home-made films.

I picked up the cutie in the very middle.

Life after anorexia is generous. It eats cupcakes that dear friends lovingly bake. It feels all sizzling and sexy. Weird saying that out loud, yet these are very the words that heal and soothe. The paroles that keep the girl away from relapsing. Guys driving by and honking their horns. Calling you sex-ay. When a bone bag… this ain’t the deal.

Go ladies, show your figures… and most of all, show You!

Dynamite top, Limité skirt, Spring pumps

What is this blog about? Initially it was to document my love for Paris. Then it became about my fall for fashion. Along the journey – unfortunately -  you also saw me get sick with anorexia, or scarily close to it. Melt, shrink, lessen… whatever you want to call it.

Now it is about sharing what I love. Fashion along other delights. Me trying to find my way in my fourth country – Canada. After Finland, the USA and France, a new adventure.

I’m still trying to get out of the grip of an eating disorder. The last battles. Physically I am at a good weight now. But often times the negative thoughts still linger on. The urge to restrict my food intake when things get trickier inside. When I feel fat. But I should know I am not. I feel I have more surface. A tummy. Buttocks. This is normal, right?

What if I just forgot all the cogitating? No more asking if I feel good in my body, or am at the right place. If I just started living. Because after all, things are fairly good.

I have a job I like. And not to much of it, like I did in Paris. Never was there time for living. Too exhausted. Too wiped out. I have new friends that I can actually see several times a week. In Paris, good luck doing that. The commute separated me from everyone. Too time-consuming. Too complicated.

I have a body that now breathes healthiness. I have energy to do what I desire. Go to art openings, meet people for after-work drinks. Be impulsive. Get coffee on the go and stroll. Wherever, whenever. Liberty that anorexia steals from you.

This is my life today. Freer from an eating disorder’s horrid grip. I wish this blog to be a place of joy, and thus wonder about writing out anorexia. But it was a part of my life. A shade in my painting. Eating difficulties have been, since I was a teenager. This is my story. I am not ashamed, nor proud. It is just is. My struggle and story out to clearer oceans.

I feel the best when I am open and honest. It soothes the inner self. I cry and laugh at the same time, or one after another. I share and hope to encourage along the way. What is your challenge? How do you live and fiercely fight?

Fresh, minty spring winds… blowing sweetly. I had a very active weekend. On Friday I went to an art opening, followed by some Starbucks lingering. The misty night encouraged me to continue on, to wander on the darkened alleys and admire art gallery windows.

On Saturday the Sweets and I took a leisurely waterfront walk. Coffee on the go. Precious lover time. In the evening, I stopped by a friend’s, she showed me her newest fashions fancies, then hurried on to see Death Trap, a play, with another friend. A thriller the show was, that took me away. Utterly. Once again, I wandered home under the moon light.

Sunday was low-key. Church time, then pasta and French presidential elections result watching. Go Francois! In the evening, another stroll with the hubs. Now slowly drifting onto the the week. Sunny skies in Quebec City.

Dynamite minty top, Euro Diff pants, H&M cardigan, H&M belt, Gap ballet flats, Devernois sequin purse

If there is something screwy I love, it is googling sweet treat pictures. Call me flaky, huh. Also, every evening I have to have my candy snatch. Otherwise I sulk. At the moment I’m late night blasting with jelly beans and marshmallows. Would my lactose-intolerance allow, I’d be nibbling on peanut butter cups. Only in enzyme-functioning dreams. Yeah.

Candy makes me happy. English licorice is a lifetime love. Maybe I ought to get meself a candy tee?

Sweet treat colored nails are of actuality. Playing with lace is of my liking, alike. I heart the attention my cropped, sexy hand wear gets… unfailingly. Somehow, I enjoy clothes induced drama. It is like an everyday stage up. I am far from superficial – dare to put it out here – but play away with frocks just for the fun of it. It makes my daily do-dos a dash more dulcet.

What I adore about the folks here in Quebec City is their openness. I often get compliments on my attire. The other day, as I ordered my Stardust coffee, the moka gal told me “how chic she found my hat”. These little sprinkles make life sweeter.

What do you think about the oh-so-popular American trend of coupling up sweet and salty? Like the above pretzel cupcakes. I’m debating. If ever anyone needed a lactose-free cupcake guinea piglet, I’m ready and willing!

What about Chanel cupcakes? Going twice and even three times.

Or what would you say about pics where the caramel just flo-oh-ows out? Or where the chewiness is teethhable?

I have now accumulated ten paintings, since my move to Canada in December. My goal is to brush away up to fifteen pieces, make a photo book and go hunting for a gallery where to organize my exhibit. A candy buffet at the opening would only be appropriate, non?