Proud of Nina

Ah, the final episode. How bittersweet. 

I have already discussed what I think of Lindsay and how poorly she handled Kat’s email in my last blog, so I don’t want to dwell. I think everyone knows how I feel about her, and I am not going to dedicate any more of my blog to her.

I want to focus on the positive, and I want to say I am super proud of Nina and her pop-up. I am the first to admit that I had my doubts about Nina’s cooking skills from the beginning. But, she proved me wrong. Not only did she pull off a miracle in terms of the logistics, but the food was fantastic! She took our comments, made adjustments, and killed it. So happy for her, and for Waylynn who showed her unwavering support and made a delicious dessert.

Now that those thoughts are out of the way, I would like to use this final blog to let you know how this experience has shaped me and how you, the viewers, have really opened my eyes to a lot of things.

I came into this experience not knowing what to expect. I opened myself up, became vulnerable, and put myself out there on national television without hesitation. I never faked it -- what you see is what you get. And in the process I have learned a lot, including how to love myself and all of my “faults” and “imperfections.” I have also seen how my actions and words may have hurt others, and for that I am truly sorry.

I have also learned a lot about my castmates.  I learned that not everyone in the cast was honest. I’m not only speaking about what they have said to my face and behind my back, but also to themselves. They lied to get out of lies, they hid behind nasty words, and they spoke half-truths in an attempt to make themselves look better. It was surprising to me that my fellow cast members would prefer to throw each other under the bus, rather than apologize for words that hurt another. They tossed around “insecure” and “low self-esteem” like they were the newest flavors of trendy ice cream in L.A.  

To the viewers that supported the show and the cast, thank you. You kept me positive on a weekly basis. But to those cowards who hid behind their keyboards “anonymously” and spewed negative words, I want you to know that you mean nothing to me. You are the lowest of low in my book. You spent your time hating on us, rather than learning to love yourself. 

And with that, I leave you with the words of the great Theodore Roosevelt:

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.

Stop waiting on the sidelines. Get in the arena. Put yourself out there.   

Eat. Drink. Love.