The body is a tricky entity. It can do all kinds of unpredictable things; it changes with time, environment, exercise, fashion and babies. It makes us happy; it makes us sad. It plays tricks on us when we are not looking and it satisfies us to our very depths. I rarely see the body I actually have, which I think is the case for most women. After two babies, hitting my mid-thirties and living a fast-paced NYC life, I find that I can sometimes lose appreciation for the beauty of my body and get lost in the self-criticism, frustration and disappointment. I do, however, also have moments where I celebrate my curves, recognize my beauty and dilly dally in the sensuousness my Rubenesque physique. It helps when I see women like me, and I say that quite humbly, depicted in the fashion industry. When I see thigh rather then bone, when I see cleavage rather then chest cavities, when I see child-bearing hips rather then none at all, I find a quiet sense of validation. So, thank you to the industry folks who are willing to photograph a size 12, willing to cast a size 10 in a show and who are willing to embrace the flesh and curve rather then the bony, boy-like body. Cheers!