Of Bikinis And Medical Degrees

In contrast with the illusion that society is prepared to welcome empowered women with open arms, I have met with a tremendous amount of opposition when I am evaluated for my medical expertise. Wanna know why? Because I competed onstage in blingy bikinis, because I continue to model in bikinis, and because I am not afraid to flaunt what I am blessed to still have. And it pisses me off.

You would think that societal influences have relaxed enough to allow a female physician to flaunt her femininity without getting dinged for it, but I continue to encounter resistance. In keeping with this double standard, there aren’t too many female docs who are confident enough to push the envelope and post images which may be considered more alluring. Female doctors are expected to remain covered up, with very little skin showing, in social media posts. I’m not talking about jeans and a t-shirt. I’m talking about professional business attire and a white coat, or scrubs. Evidently women who are physicians aren’t allowed to reveal who they are outside of the clinical setting. That’s ridiculous, and I refuse to give in.

If a client has a narrow-minded view of physicians and expects me to fit the mold of an uber-conservative nerdy person, that client will quickly reject me. I think it’s utter nonsense that my credibility has been questioned, simply because I also happen to be a model. I have a LIFE. I have a certain manner of dressing which includes a certain fashion flair. The way I dress for work is by no means gaudy or slutty, but because of my abhorrence of ultra conservative clothing and the white doctor’s coat, it is obvious that I refuse to play the stereotype game.

Tell me this: how the hell am I supposed to feel empowered when narrow-minded idiots insist on throwing their judgment on me? I admire a strong, intelligent, educated, accomplished person who also happens to beat the aging process and who isn’t afraid of flaunting it. Such people are courageous, not scandalous.
As a fully credentialed, board certified physician who also happens to be deeply involved in fitness, bodybuilding and modeling, I know that I stand out a bit in a sea of medical professionals, and to be honest, I am proud of it. A good portion of the world also seems ready for such empowered career women, but when those women are being considered for an ad campaign or other large scale project, they are quickly criticized and cast aside for their fortitude and boldness.

I don’t see why I should feel a drop of shame for modeling in bikinis. What the &*%@ is wrong with bikinis? Women all over the world wear bikinis, and even dare to go sans suits in some locales. So why should I be made to feel like I am being scandalous if I model in a bikini? I have modeled my entire life, and I have no plans to stop at all, especially if I have a physique which is bikini-worthy.

My life is so varied, full and exciting that I can easily escape the dry and often depressing climate of medicine and enjoy something that has twists and turns. None of my other pursuits diminish what I bring to the table as a healer. If anything, they add a humanness and relatability which I think my patients appreciate. I have said before and will say again that I have never been, nor will I ever be, a “typical” physician (whatever that means). So don’t try to mold me into something I am not.

No Pink Please!

PinkUnlike many women who seem to gravitate towards the color pink, I hate the hue with a passion, regardless of whether it’s baby, bubble gum, rose, magenta, hot, blush, fuschia, or any other shade in the pink portion of the spectrum. It bothers me to no end when people, especially men, assume that every female likes pink and that all females should identify with the color since it is a “girl’s” color. I am not a fan of gender stereotyping, and find myself delighted when I hear a woman say she hates pink, or that she refuses to dress her young daughter in pink. Amen to that!

My mother certainly fell under the gender constraints which dictated that her daughter should wear pink, but thankfully she allowed me to assert my personality and hatred of pink when I dressed in regular day to day clothing. However, I did not win the battle when it came to my yearly portrait sitting. In fact, there were SEVERAL years in which I was made to wear baby pink chiffon dresses to my portrait sitting. This was utter torture for me, because I felt like a poof of pink cotton candy, ultra-girly and completely unlike the tomboyish girl I was. My mom would point out that I would only have to wear a dreaded pink garment for a few hours, and that pink was SUCH a good color on me. Truth be told, many shades of pink flatter my complexion very well, but the mere sight of pink has always turned my stomach.

I also remember one item of clothing which was given to me one Christmas (I believe it was when I was 4 years old). The item was my first bathrobe, a baby pink, polyester quilted number which I wore for many years, until it literally began to fall apart, and of course I was thrilled. When the robe was finally retired, it was no longer a full length garment, but hit my knees. When the time came to pick out a new robe, I selected a vibrant blue robe to erase the memory of having that pink monstrosity.

Some people may regard pink as a happy, calming, comforting color, but to me, it is just plain UGLY. Even purple, which is one of my favorite colors, has to have a strong leaning away from the pink spectrum in order for me to choose it. If it’s too pink, I will opt for red or black. I look at pink and I think of Pepto-Bismol and weakness. It is very safe to assume that I will reject anything (that includes clothing, accessories, decor items, etc.) that is pink. I can guarantee that I will never have logos or merchandise which have the color pink in them. It was difficult for me to pick an image for this blogpost because I knew it had to be pink. My hatred of pink is consistent and pervasive.

Pink is NOT for this girl!

Right Hand Rings


Pictured above is a Diamond Vintage-Inspired Engagement Ring (1/2 ct. t.w.) in 14k White Gold. This is the ring I wear now.

The trend in right hand rings has increased in popularity over the last fifteen years, because women are embracing it as a way to celebrate their independence and honor themselves. Similar to promise rings, which are also often worn on the right ring finger, right hand rings symbolize a dedication to a goal, a celebration of one’s strength, or an expression of one’s personality.

Though most of the women who opt to purchase right hand rings for themselves are single, a growing number of married woman are purchasing right hand rings for themselves. Right hand rings enable women to proudly display their power and freedom. One advertising campaign uses the slogan,

“Your left hand is a symbol of loyalty. Your right hand is a symbol of freedom.”

I’ve been married, and I have been engaged, so I still regard the left ring finger as sacred. As a matter of fact, I RARELY wear rings on my left ring finger out of respect for my strong belief that the left ring finger is reserved for the bond between two people. However, I have no intention of waiting for a left hand ring to alight once again upon that digit, and it turns out that many women feel the same way, and are purchasing right hand rings, even married ladies.

I had bought a right hand ring back in 2012, but I wasn’t in love with the design, and because I was so resentful of the non-committal man I was with at the time, I didn’t really want to wear it. When it was stolen in 2013, I figured it was meant to be.

Then in early February of this year, I was struck with a sudden urge to get a new right hand ring. It was time to honor myself. I wanted a design which reflected my personality, my taste, and was hoping to find something I absolutely loved, something that made me happy every time I looked at it. I selected a ring which did exactly that, the one that is pictured here on my blog. And it was on sale, for a price which could not be beaten, so I bought it. Little did I know I bought the ring on the crest of a huge breakup, so in a very cosmic way, it was perfect timing.

Exactly one month after I bought my right hand ring, I was completely broadsided by a sudden breakup, the third breakup by the same person in the span of six years. He was planning to move back in. He told me that he was finally ready to make an effort. It was all a lie.

To be honest, I was relieved that I didn’t have to explain my purchase to this guy who I am sure would have berated me for it. It was ridiculous of me to be so apprehensive to reveal my new bauble to someone who let me pay for everything (dinners, trips, gifts, etc.), yet felt he had the right to direct me on how to spend MY money. He never, ever took care of me, but expected me to acquiesce to his every need, and also knew that I would always rescue his pathetic ass.

Now I wear my right hand ring proudly, without fear of being ridiculed. I didn’t know it was considered an engagement ring until I wrote this article, but here’s a thought: I’m never going to break up with myself, and this ring symbolizes my lifelong commitment to myself, my dreams and my goals.