When these drugs became popular in 2023–2024, my first thought was: great, these can definitely be helpful for people with chronic weight-related health issues.

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I mean, it makes sense. For years I would “lock in” before every trip, especially beach vacations. I’d be extra disciplined with food, I’d work out a little harder, …

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Some of those conversations happened in my work as a dietitian. Some happened socially. And some happened in a setting I’ve never really talked about here.

For a long time, I assumed I never would.

Partly because I worried it would make me seem hypocritical. Or less credible. Or like it complicated the very clean professional identity I’d spent years building: registered dietitian, eating disorder specialist, body image clinician.

I kept stopping at that first thought. What will people think?

But when I finally let myself think past it, I realized this part of my life may actually explain quite a lot about how I understand bodies, shame, appearance, clothing, exposure, and the enormous gap between what we imagine other people are thinking about us and what they are actually thinking.

It has also given me access to conversations about bodies that most people will never hear.

But it is something I genuinely thought I would keep separate from this work.

When I first started my private practice, after working for a group practice for a while, my schedule was predictably inconsistent. That’s normal in the beginning. Clients cancel. Referrals come in waves. Some weeks look reassuringly full; others make you briefly consider whether you should have pursued a career with a salary and dental insurance.

I needed something flexible enough to work around my clients, rather than requiring my clients to work around it.

There was really only one job I’d had before that paid well, could be scheduled inconsistently, and did not require me to start over from scratch.

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I was anti-acupuncture for a long time. I filed it under “woo-woo and expensive” and moved on. But over the years, enough clients I genuinely trust kept telling me it changed their lives that I started wondering if I was missing something. So I finally decided to try it myself.

I’ve been seeing Lara Rosen…

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Not because I don’t have clothes. Not because I suddenly forgot how to get dressed. Not even because I dislike my body.

The problem is more difficult to articulate th…

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• Faster healing

• Better recovery

• Weight loss

• Improved body composition

• Longevity

• Better sleep

• Reduced inflammation

• Enhanced athletic performance

The marketing often sounds almost magical.

But when you step back from the testimonials and before-and-after photos, a more complicated picture emerges.

Most peptides currently being marketed in wellness, longevity, and performance spaces exist in a strange middle ground: they are often portrayed as cutting-edge medical breakthroughs despite having little human evidence, limited safety data, and rapidly changing regulatory oversight.

But First, What Is a Peptide?

Peptides are short chains of amino acids that act as signaling molecules in the body.

Some occur naturally. Others are synthetic versions designed to mimic or enhance biological processes.

In theory, this makes them appealing therapeutic tools. If you can influence a specific biological pathway, perhaps you can accelerate healing, improve metabolism, or reduce inflammation.

The challenge is that biological plausibility is not the same thing as clinical effectiveness.

Many compounds that look promising in mice never translate into meaningful human outcomes.

The Evidence Spectrum

One of the biggest misconceptions is that all peptides belong in the same category.

PSA: They don’t.

Some have undergone large randomized controlled trials and received FDA approval. Others have never successfully completed a Phase II clinical trial.

Peptides With Strong Human Evidence

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As someone who can usually commit to a new health ritual with alarming enthusiasm, straight meditation has never really stuck for me. I’d do it for ten days, maybe two weeks, miss one morning, and then suddenly six months would pass and Headspace would email me that …

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It’s a strange shift. You go from something highly structured and emotional to being on the other side of the world, with no real plan other than where to go next and what to eat.

New Zealand ended up being one of those places that feels slightly unreal. The scale, the colors, how much of it still feels untouched. You keep expecting it to normalize and it doesn’t.

We split time between the South and North Islands. Some days were active, some slower, and most revolved around food in some way. Also more alcohol and dessert than I would at home. By the end, there were clear changes in digestion and energy, which I’ll get into.

This is a mix of where we went, what we did, and what actually matters for digestion, energy, and body image while traveling.

South Island

Queenstown

Queenstown sits on Lake Wakatipu and is surrounded by mountains carved out by glaciers, which explains why everything feels a little exaggerated. It started as a gold mining town in the 1800s and is now known for adventure tourism. As we walked around the town, every other building is an agency for helicopter tours, hiking, bungee jumping, etc. We stuck to hiking for the most part.

It’s not a trip to Queenstown, if you don’t go to Fergburger. The line is long but moves quickly. What stood out was the meat quality. In New Zealand, grass-fed beef is standard, not something you have to seek out. The burgers feel rich but not heavy in that overly processed way. We went with a standard cheeseburger, but I was also tempted by the “Sweet Bambi” burger with Wild Fiordland deer.

We had dinner at Rata one night, which focuses on local ingredients. One of the best meals I’ve had in years.

We also went to Amisfield for lunch, which ended up being one of the more memorable meals of the trip.

It’s set just outside of Queenstown, surrounded by mountains and vineyards, and the whole experience is built around a set tasting menu. You don’t order, but just sit down and they bring out a series of courses that reflect what’s in season and what they’re sourcing locally.

It leans heavily into New Zealand ingredients. A lot of it is cooked over fire, with a focus on game, seafood, and local seasonal produce. Our meal was over 3 hours, but you don’t notice the time because each course is a feast for the eyes as much as it is for the taste buds.

What stood out wasn’t just the food, but how thoughtfully presented each course was. Every course is explained, where it came from, how it was prepared, why it’s on the menu.

Wanaka

Wanaka is about an hour away but feels noticeably quieter. It sits on Lake Wanaka, also formed by glacial movement, so you get the same dramatic landscape without as much activity around it.

We did Roy’s Peak, which took about five hours total. The first half is a 2.5 hour steady uphill climb with no real break. I consider myself fairly in shape, but this felt challenging. The terrain is not even; and some of the inclines were so steep it felt like I could fall backwards.

Sign of a good hike (IMO) is few photos. There’s a spot to take an iconic photo that looks like you’re floating above all these islands, but I was too tired / determined to get to the base to take it.

If you’re up for a challenge, I would definitely recommend this one. The views are unparalleled.

Arrowtown

On the way to the airport, we stopped in Arrowtown and immediately wished we had planned more time there.

It’s a small historic town that dates back to the gold rush era, and it still feels preserved in a way Queenstown doesn’t, which is more commercial.

I was determined to buy something from a local designer, so I went into the first store and asked for guidance. I was pointed to Smith & Western, which sold clothing and other goods all designed and manufactured locally.

I purchased a dress that I ended up wearing to a wedding this past weekend.

North Island

Taupo — Huka Lodge

Lake Taupo is a volcanic caldera, formed by a massive eruption thousands of years ago. It’s the largest lake in the country but feels more like an inland ocean.

We stayed at Huka Lodge along the Waikato River, the longest river in New Zealand. It’s one of those places that almost doesn’t feel real when you wake up. Every room sits right along the water, so you hear the river constantly, along with birds, wind through the trees, and everything else you forget exists when you’re in a city.

The lodge is incredible. I can’t even accurately describe how good the service and attention to detail were. A through line of the trip was how incredibly warm, welcoming, and kind kiwis are. We had a real, connected conversation with pretty much everyone we interacted with.

We spent one day walking along Lake Taupo, which felt more like an inland ocean than a lake. Another afternoon, we took a boat out on the river and had lunch onboard. They cooked steak on a small grill attached to the boat, which sounds simple but ended up being one of those meals you remember because of the setting,

After Queenstown, which felt more active and built up, Taupo was a reset.

In a nearby shop, we picked up manuka honey to bring home. It comes from bees that pollinate the native manuka bush and has research behind its antimicrobial properties, largely due to compounds like methylglyoxal. It’s one of the few foods where the science actually supports the claims.

Kauri Cliffs — Bay of Islands

Kauri Cliffs sits on about 6,000 acres overlooking the Pacific. The property is part of a broader effort to restore native land that was cleared during European settlement. Large areas of New Zealand were deforested in the 19th and early 20th centuries for farming and timber, particularly kauri trees. There’s a kauri tree on the property that they go to great lengths to maintain and protect.

Now there’s a visible effort to rebuild those ecosystems. You see replanting, protected land, and a shift toward conservation.

The land also holds a much longer Māori history. They are the indigenous people of New Zealand, with roots going back centuries before European arrival. Colonization led to widespread land loss and cultural disruption, which still underlies a lot of what you see and experience in the country now. The owners of the Kauri Cliffs property make sure to preserve Māori burial sites that exist on the land.

I could have spent every day there reading on the porch. The breeze was incredible, warm but still cool enough to feel refreshing. Just being outside felt restorative.

We played tennis, walked down to the famous Pink Beach, did an ATV tour through the property, and took a boat out into the Bay of Islands.

The Bay of Islands was one of the first areas of sustained contact between Māori and Europeans. It’s also where Captain James Cook mapped parts of the coastline in the 1700s. The captain told us stories about early interactions between settlers and the native people. Out on the water, surrounded by these scattered, remote islands, it became easier to understand how central this area was for navigation, trade, and the early shaping of the country.

After about three weeks of traveling, my body is definitely feeling it.

We started with an 18 hour flight from New York to Auckland, then a flight to Queenstown. From there, we flew back to Auckland, had a flight to Taupo canceled and ended up driving four hours instead, then flew Taupo to Auckland and Auckland to Kerikeri. On the way home, it was Kerikeri to Auckland, Auckland to Sydney, and Sydney to LA… followed by a wedding a few days later in Arizona.

So between the time change, inconsistent sleep, eating every meal out, and more alcohol and dessert than I would normally have, I didn’t feel amazing all the time.

My digestion felt slower, so more bloating. My energy was a little all over the place on days. And I had a couple moments of bad body image.

What I kept coming back to were the fundamentals I could control. Eating regularly. Getting enough protein. Hydrating. Prioritizing sleep when I could.

And also perspective. This was two weeks of my life. My body knows how to take care of me.

Here’s what I noticed along the way.

What Travel Does to Your Digestion

When you’re traveling, a few things shift all at once:

• You’re eating out more (often richer, higher-fat meals)

• Alcohol intake usually increases (if you drink)

• Fiber intake becomes less consistent

• Meal timing gets irregular

• Sleep can be off

• You’re either moving a lot more or a lot less

And your body definitely notices.

Here’s what I found actually helps:

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I wasn’t planning to write this.

Not because I don’t have thoughts (I do), but because it felt a little against what I believe: accepting your body, your face, not feeling like you need to change anything leading up to your wedding.

That part still stands.

But.

I also know a lot of brides do…

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But lately, I’ve been thinking about a quieter kind of romance.

The kind that looks like staying in on a weekend night because your body needs rest.
The kind that feels like soup simmering on the stove, clean sheets, a book you can’t put down. The kind that isn’t about being impressive but rather being cared for.

I had a moment in a session recently that gave me the idea for this newsletter.

A client said something simple but also quite profound: she was starting to view food less as something to manage or withhold, and more as a way to take care of herself.

That shift showed up in small ways, such as eating earlier in the day instead of waiting until she was depleted, prioritizing nourishment before stressful events, choosing foods that actually felt good in her body instead of just foods she thought she “should” eat.

And it reminded me: so much of wellness isn’t about discipline. It’s about devotion.

About approaching your choices with the quiet intention of:
I’m going to take care of myself today.

So this newsletter is a little Valentine’s collection of things that feel like that to me lately. The stories, meals, cozy favorites, and reminders that romance can live in the everyday.

Everything is romantic, if you let it be.

The Cozy Thing I’m Reading

Book: The Safekeep by Yael van der Wouden (winner of the national Jewish book award for debut fiction and shortlisted for the 2024 Booker Prize)

A soft, moody ache of a book about intimacy, memory, and what we hold onto. It’s set in the years after WWII, but don’t let that deter you if you’re not in the mood for historical fiction; it’s not a wartime story. The era is more of a quiet backdrop to a deeply human, surprisingly relatable, and unlikely romance.

Reading is such an embodied experience, and I’ll always recommend a real paperback over digital. It feels infinitely more intimate and cozy. Perfect for a winter weeknight in bed when you want a little escape and something to unwind into.

• A line that stayed with me: “There isn’t a version of me that could’ve looked away from you.”

The Story That Left Me Sobbing

Watch: Hamnet by Chloe Zhao

I did not know what I was signing up for when I started this movie. I also have a bad habit of half-watching movies while on my computer or scrolling on my phone - ahem, ADHD - but about two minutes into this film, I put everything down.

From the cinematography to the quiet, profound acting, it’s genuinely one of the most beautiful films I’ve ever seen. It’s hard to outshine Paul Mescal, but Jessie Buckley was absolutely mesmerizing - heartbreaking and magnetic in her role as Shakespeare’s wife.

The last scene stays with you long after it ends. I was slow-crying for the final 10–15 minutes. There are so many themes and metaphors to sit with, in a way that reminded me of reading Shakespeare in school. Zhao somehow turned a film into something that feels almost literary. Just incredible.

• A line that stayed with me: “He’s got more inside of him than any man I’ve ever met.”

Little Things That Feel Like a Hug Lately

A running list of romance-as-care:

• Warm Fond bone broth in the afternoon

  • Tip: I choose the “FODMAP” friendly ones, which contain no garlic or onion.

• Cooking easy but nourishing recipes, so you can spend more time enjoying than preparing. Like this Meditteranean scallop recipe or my favorite way to make japanese sweet potatoes.

• A friend/yoga practitioner/health guru (with incredible luscious hair) recommended this Anima Mundi hair oil. I’ve started to use it in my roots before bed, a shower, or a workout and have already noticed a difference in the shine and health of my hair. Plus it smells like a spa <3.

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They’re planning meals, prioritizing protein, getting their workouts in, staying on top of hydration, trying to make “good choices.” On paper, it looks like they’re doing everything right.

And yet, sometimes the body tells a different story.

Labs come back abnormal. Energy f…

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This question came from a seamstress during my first wedding dress fitting. In her mind, it was practical: how much should I expect to take this dress in?

In my head, I thought: Really?
Out loud, I said: “No, I’m not.”

That answer surprised me. Ten years ago, I probably would have said something else. Fifteen years ago, definitely.

In my life now, I’m intentional about who I spend time with—people who aren’t preoccupied with body size. In my work, I help clients disentangle self-worth from their jean size. And online, I’ve curated my environment to avoid body-checking, extreme routines, thinspo, and the many rebranded versions of dieting that keep resurfacing. I’ve built a buffer from a culture that is still deeply obsessed with weight.

So yes, the question caught me off guard. But it’s also a completely “normal” question in the context of weddings.

The reason I feel no impulse to shrink my body before my wedding isn’t discipline or maturity. It’s experience. I’ve been there. And it’s not worth going back.

There are infinitely more benefits to being actually healthy than to being smaller.

This belief shows up in my work, too. I often tell clients, If recovery doesn’t work for you, you can always go back. I mean it. Because once your mind and body are in a healthier place (and your life is fuller) most people don’t want to. But since we can’t predict our future selves, naming that choice reduces fear and restores agency.

Before starting my private practice, I once heard that if you’re recovering from an eating disorder, it helps to work with someone who is recovered. I didn’t think that mattered much at the time. Now I know it does, for two reasons:

1. I can stand behind what I’m saying without hesitation.

2. Clients feel seen, not judged or shamed.

Getting married has stirred up a lot of reflection. High school. Modeling. College. My twenties. And now, at 33, about to get married. I keep thinking about earlier versions of myself, and I want to share a few reflections that feel especially relevant right now, particularly as culture drifts back toward Thinspo-era thinking.

A quick note: I was never formally diagnosed with an eating disorder, largely because I never had treatment. But as a dietitian who specializes in eating disorders, I can say retrospectively that I had all the features and behaviors.

Reflection #1: Why it starts is not what sustains it

I was signed to a modeling agency at 15. From the start, I was “too big”—my hips were two inches over the standard. At first, I didn’t diet. I was in school, had friends, and didn’t care enough. Food at home was balanced. I was valued more for my humor than my body.

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That’s not what this is.

This is what I’m actually doing in the months leading up to my wedding to feel grounded, regulated, and like myself. No “glow-up,” Solidcore challenges, or weekly lymphatic massages. Instead, I’m focused on supporting my nervous system and reorienting toward what actually matters. Because when my wedding day arrives, I want to feel more like myself, not like a manufactured version.

I’ve been thinking about it in three buckets: mind, body, and soul. My aim is intentional > extreme.

For My Mind

I’ve noticed that when my mind is overstimulated, everything else follows. My sleep suffers, my patience thins, and I start multitasking like something is about to explode. So I’ve been intentionally simplifying.

What I’m reading

I’m keeping my input thoughtful rather than constant. Currently, I’ve dialed down trying to be on top of every news source. But there are a few voices I consistently come back to:

• Susan Cain, especially when I need permission to be quieter, slower, and more inward. She’s the author of one of my favorite books Quiet about introverts.

• Sahil Bloom, for big-picture thinking that feels grounding rather than hustle-y. A quote from a recent newsletter of his:

  “My entire life changed when I realized nobody cares. When you’re winning, nobody cares. When you’re losing, nobody cares. It doesn’t mean nobody loves you, it just means nobody cares about your life as much as you do. That thing you’ve always wanted to do? Nobody cares. So, go do it.”

And instead of doom-scrolling at night, I’m choosing long-form reading. Books. The New Yorker. I don’t know why, but reading the exact same article on my phone leaves me feeling noticeably worse than reading it on actual paper.

One thing at a time

This sounds obvious. It is not easy. I’m practicing doing one thing at a time. Eating without answering emails. Listening without mentally crafting a response. Working without flipping back to my other open ten tabs. The terrible truth that we all hate to accept is that we can’t actually multitask; at least, not well.

No TV during the week

This one surprised me. Cutting out most weeknight TV has created space I didn’t know I was missing. I get into bed a little earlier. I am able to think and relax instead of just zone out before bed. If I want stimulation, I read. And if I want rest, I just go to bed early.

For My Body

It’s been striking to see what started showing up in my feed once the algorithm picked up that I was getting married. The dominant message looks something like this:

Lagree or Solidcore every day, starting a year out

Weekly lymphatic massages

Walking 20,000 steps per day

Monthly hydrafacials for six months

Significant under-eating and restriction (details intentionally omitted)

Highly rigid routines with little flexibility

From a nervous system and stress physiology perspective, it’s hard to see how most of this would be regulating or sustainable. Some elements may feel calming in isolation, but the cumulative time, financial cost, and rigidity would likely be stress-inducing for many people.

After noticing this pattern, I made a conscious decision to opt out. Rather than defaulting to what is being modeled online, I’m choosing an approach that prioritizes regulation, flexibility, and long-term well-being in the months leading up to my wedding.

Acupuncture

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Information gathering is starting to take the place of doing the deeper work.

We’re really good at learning now. We listen to podcasts, save posts, highlight books, and can explain ourselves pretty fluently. We know the language. Food freedom. Nervous system regulation. Mindfulness. Heal…

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Because if I answer honestly, the word that pops up first is always busy, and I’m bored of my own predictability. I managed to dodge it once by saying, “I’ve been sleeping really well, so there’s that.” Which felt like a flex and a cry for help at the same time.

We’re all busy. Even…

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It feels like a cosmic joke. Like you did all this work to heal and your body responded with, “That’s nice. Anyway, here’s something else.”

For me, it was my hands.

When I was modeling and chronically under-eating, my hands were blue-purple from poor circulation. I’d show up to jobs with fingers that looked like Emily’s from Tim Burton’s Corpse Bride. It was embarrassing, yes, but it also cost me work. Beauty campaigns don’t want hands that look hypoxic.

Physiology-wise, when you’re underfed, your body becomes exceptionally strategic. It shunts blood away from “non-essential” areas—like your hands and feet—to keep your heart and brain online. Reduced calorie intake → lower metabolic rate → decreased cardiac output → vasoconstriction in the extremities. Translation: cold, blue fingers.

When I finally reached a healthy weight and my hormones normalized, the purple hands faded. I spent most of my twenties with hands that finally looked like they belonged to a living person.

Then I hit my early thirties…and they turned red.

Not blue. Not purple. Red.
A different kind of “something’s off.”

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And here’s the thing:
If one of the sustaining forces behind wanting a thinner body is feeling special- more disciplined, more in control, more “together”-what happens when everyone starts looking thin in the same way?

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Even when I was modeling, I never felt worthy of stepping inside. I wasn’t “in model shape.” I told people I was a student when they asked what I did, because saying “model” felt fraudulent.

So when I walked into Dogpound this weekend, grounded, not comparing, I realized something had shifted. I wasn’t confident because I looked my best. I was confident because I felt solid in who I was.

That’s what I want to unpack today: how building a core self (something deeper and more enduring than image) can completely change your relationship with your body.

Some Backstory

At fifteen, I signed with a modeling agency and took two years off between high school and college to do it full-time. Paris, Milan, London, Sydney… the whole thing.

From the outside, it looked like a dream. But inside, I was unraveling.

My self-worth hinged entirely on being chosen. Bookings, measurements, casting directors’ opinions, every “yes” or “no” felt like a verdict on my value. I was living in rooms full of the most beautiful women in the world and still convinced I wasn’t enough.

The irony: I was never more insecure than when I looked my “best.” I skipped events, avoided photos, and withheld joy until I reached a body that never came.

Quitting modeling was the first big step. Physically, it was unsustainable. Emotionally, it was flattening me.

When your job depends on staying the same, you learn to fear change. But bodies are supposed to change. That’s their job.

When I stopped trying to control my body, my body image started to heal. We’re sold the myth that if we focus more on our bodies, we’ll feel better about them. The truth? The less you make your body your life’s project, the better you feel living inside it.

Over the past decade, I’ve built my core self, a sense of who I am outside of appearance. I went to college and grad school, started therapy, and worked through the ways I used control around food and exercise to avoid deeper fears. EMDR helped me connect past experiences with my current reactions and coping mechanisms; it brought to my consciousness what exactly I was avoiding.

Relationships, dating, and friendships helped me clarify my values; and aligning my actions with those values gave me stability that no number on a scale ever could. It’s the same work I now do with my clients - helping them notice where their energy goes, and whether it aligns with who they actually want to be.

Core Self vs. Self-Image

Improving body image isn’t about fixing how you look. It’s about strengthening who you are beneath how you look.

When your sense of self is rooted in your core - your values, integrity, curiosity, and capacity for connection - outside opinions lose their power.

But if you pour all your energy into perfecting your self-image: the curated, external version of you, you end up building on quicksand. The more polished it becomes, the more fragile it feels.

Developing your core self makes you grounded. Perfecting your image makes you anxious.

What Actually Helped Me

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And with the crisp air comes dry hair, the swapping of lotions for creams, lipstick for Laneige lip masks; and for me, the return of the inflammatory nodes on my hands.

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I don’t think this is intentional. Like with therapy, most people aren’t hiding information. You’re paying someone to help you after all. I think it’s more that alcohol doesn’t register as part of our “nutrition.” It’s not a food, it’s an extra. It doesn’t get logged in MyFitnessPal or counted into macros.

Many of us treat alcohol like we never learned object permanence. If it’s not in front of us, it doesn’t exist, and certainly not as part of our diet.

But it does. And it has real impacts — ones we all kind of know but like to forget. From a nutrition standpoint, alcohol can interfere with micronutrient absorption, cause gastritis and diarrhea, trigger bloating, suppress appetite, disrupt sleep, and impair muscle growth. The list is long.

And yet, we live in a world that practically runs on espresso martinis and Aperol spritzes.

My own story with alcohol isn’t a dry one. Growing up in Manhattan, it was everywhere- deli owners selling vodka-filled Poland Spring bottles, parents pouring drinks at parties. It didn’t feel rebellious; it was normal among my friends. Just what you did.

As a naturally shy and introverted person, alcohol became my social lubricant.

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