Destiny Allison — Author

Originally posted on I Am My Own Island:

I was asked to be on of a handful of blogs to interact with the author of The Romance Diet: Body Image and the Wars We Wage On Ourselves. The book is an intimately personal, raw, almost poetic look into the author’s journey into a new self acceptance. In trying to recover from the loss of her former identity as a artist, her life slipped into chaos.

I feel it is such an honor. We were asked if we wanted the author to write a blog post for us and I chose how and why we feel invisible in our lives and with others. THis is something I feel often myself so it is dear to my heart. Here is her words on the subject.


Invisibility is a superpower. It affords us the opportunity to avoid difficult situations, sneak past guards, and enter forbidden rooms. Many of us have mastered…

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Next Stop on the Tour — The Handmaid’s Tale and Culture War


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Honored to be on Madeline Sharples’ blog today. This post is one more true to my heart and current journey. Hope you take a look and let me know what you think. Also, if you like it, please share. Thanks,

Thanks for having me on your blog today, Madeline. I enjoyed your post about The Handmaid’s Tale. It is one of my all time favorite books and first introduced me to the plight of women past and present. The heroine’s reduction from a strong, independent woman to a pair of ovaries is as relevant a topic now as it was then.

The only people who don’t believe there’s a war on women are those waging it. We see it everywhere – from the loss of access to women’s health providers to campus sexual assault. Three women a day are murdered in the United States by men they once loved. Statistics are staggering.

The Handmaid’s Tale does an excellent job of illuminating the tactics used against us in this war. We are powerless to defend ourselves when we feel afraid, ashamed, and without value.

These tactics work in tandem to make us invisible. Read More…

Secrets to Dressing Beautifully Over Fifty


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I’m honored to be featured on Zest Now today. This is a popular site for women over fifty. My article is not what you normally see from me, but it was fun to write. Check it out and let me know what you think.

When I’m not writing, I’m managing the boutique I own. My customers are older, fifty plus, and they all have one thing in common. There is something about their body they hate. This one’s hips are too big. That one has a shelf. Bat wing arms make them want to hide themselves. Some are so skinny that clothes hang like drapes. Some… Read More

Self Doubt is a Double Edged Sword


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I am so grateful to Audry at All Things Audry for hosting me on her blog today and I LOVE what she said about this post.

“If you’re a woman living on this planet, you need to read this post!

And, men, you can certainly benefit from the truths told here by today’s guest writer, Destiny Allison, author of the soon to be released book The Romance Diet: Body Image and the Wars We Wage on Ourselves.”

I hope you’ll check it out and check out the rest of her site. Let us both know your thoughts.

Pre-Release Blog Tour for The Romance Diet


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Deep sigh. Nervous exhalation. The launch date looms. You’d think, 4 books in, I’d be used to this. Alas, I’m not. The Romance Diet is the most honest thing I’ve done and the most difficult. Because of that, it might make a difference in people’s lives.

To get the word out before the book launch, I’ll be taking a mini-blog tour. I’m honored to be a guest on the following blogs and hope you’ll follow along as I talk about being invisible, loving your body as it is, and other related topics. Please pop in and leave comments. I love to hear your thoughts.

Here’s a complete list of tour stops:

The Romance Diet Pre-Release Tour Dates

Monday, November 16th

All Things Audry

Guest Post:   Self Doubt is a Double Edged Sword

Friday, November 20th

Mohanalakshmi Rajakumar’s blog

Friday Reads: Cover Reveal & Thoughts

Wednesday, November 25 th


Guest Post: Questioning the Behaviors We Deem Acceptable

Tuesday, December 1st

I Am My Own Island

Guest Post: How and Why We Feel Invisible

Friday, December 4th

Compulsive Reader

Interview with Destiny Allison

Wednesday, December 9th

Beth’s Bemusings

Guest Post:

Friday, December 11


Thursday, January 28, 2016, 1:30-2:30P ET.

 Courageous Living with Shannon Hernandez

Live Interview on Internet Radio

Date TBD

Thoughts in Progress

Book Review


The Romance Diet Preview


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The Romance Diet cover draft

By popular demand (meaning the preference of various publicity folks to whom I am extremely grateful) here is a link to the first three chapters of The Romance Diet.

THE ROMANCE DIET_First 3 Chapters

The book is available for pre-order on Amazon now and will launch on January 18, 2016. Take a peek and let me know what you think. Thanks!

The Silent Sisterhood


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The only people denying the war on women are those waging it, but it’s been raging so long that many are tired of the headlines. Sure, there’s an occasional flare up, a battle worthy of our momentary attention, but most of the time we’re too busy living to care.

While the soldiers are out there, bleeding and dying for our rights, we scroll our Facebook feeds, decide what we’re having for dinner, and roll our eyes while picking up another pair of socks dropped casually on the bedroom floor. We’re conscious of the chatter around rape culture, pay inequality, and the laws restricting women’s reproductive rights, but for women edging fifty, or already over that mythical hump, many of the issues are no longer personally relevant. Focused on private battles, we let the die-hard generals and fresh recruits fight the war. Worse, as  Molly Redden’s recent article in Mother Jones illuminated, many feel the war against women has been fought and lost.

Women of all ages are simply giving up. Last week, a twenty-six year old woman told me that she and her friends consider rape a right of initiation because so many have experienced it. Want to grow up? Go to college? Be part of the sisterhood? Easy, show up where you’re not supposed to, wear something your mother cautioned you against, have a few drinks and voila! Rape. Now you’re in; welcome to the wonderful world of womanhood in the 21st century.

A new study by the American Association of Universities confirmed what most us already knew. 23% of the 150,000 college women who participated in the study are victims of sexual assault. The majority, a whopping 58.6%, never reported the event. Why? Because they didn’t think it was serious enough.

In a Facebook response to this study, John Foubert, national president of One in Four, an organization dedicated to the prevention of rape, joined critics of the study when he said, “Many of the statistics that are widely cited in the public about sexual violence are of ‘rape or attempted rape’ — I believe rightfully so. Those are the most serious types of sexual violence, and also, based on my experience, those most likely to result in PTSD [post traumatic stress disorder]. When we throw ‘unwanted sexual contact’ into the mix, we risk equating a forced kiss (which is a bad thing obviously) with rape (which is a fundamentally different act).”

He’s right. Unwanted touching and rape are different — kind of like macaroni and spaghetti. Use a different sauce and it’s an entirely different meal. Foubert’s distinction minimizes the bigger issue and implies that men kissing women, groping their breasts, or grabbing their asses against their will aren’t serious enough to be considered the sexual assaults they are. It’s surprising, even mildly terrifying, that a man in charge of an organization dedicated to preventing rape cannot recognize that his words make him part of the problem. He reminds us, yet again, how it’s up to others to teach women what is and is not acceptable and demonstrates why many women don’t take an assault on their body seriously. His kind of reasoning is precisely why marital rape was still legal in some states until 1993 (three years after my twins were born).

Here’s the thing. All sexual assault is serious and Foubert’s language is downright dangerous because in separating rape from other acts of sexual violence he reaffirms the myth that women’s bodies aren’t their own. The prevalence of this myth denies women the support they need to come forward, get help, and hold those responsible accountable.

Failure to do so can be catastrophic. In the best circumstances, the long term effects of rape wreak havoc on the lives of victims and their families. I know. I was raped at 19 and didn’t report it or seek help. Now part of the silent sisterhood (68% of women never report being raped), I was paralyzed by shame. I was also convinced that I wouldn’t be taken seriously. Unable to stomach the thought of invasive police questioning or the likelihood that my complaint wouldn’t go anywhere, I simply put it behind me and moved on. Unfortunately, part of me got stuck that night and the assault determined the course of my life. Shame never dissipated. It intensified. Unexplained anxiety and nightmares made me think I was losing my mind. When a flashback hit me out of nowhere, it almost destroyed me and the man I love.

We are mothers and role models. We are battle weary and worn. And we are the ones who know what happens when women silence themselves. We live it every day. As we age, the issues compound. Bleeding profusely from old wounds and new (invisibility, declining employment opportunities, and aging parents to name a few) most of us just want to make it through the day. And yet, now more than ever, we have to show up and engage for if we don’t the war will be lost and with it the hope of young women, which we once contained.


The Romance Diet: Body Image and the Wars We Wage on Ourselves


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The Romance Diet cover draft

I didn’t expect to do this yet, but word from publisher and publicist is go. Wow. It’s real. The Romance Diet: Body Image and The Wars We Wage on Ourselves will be released January 18 from Sunstone Press.

Here’s the jacket blurb:

Brave, raw, and unflinchingly honest, this book is a weight loss journey, a love story, a heart beating loudly on the page. Every day we battle against something–injustice, our spouses, our weight. Seldom do we acknowledge the real wars we wage. Repressing feelings and silencing our voices, we suffer under the surface, attributing emotional distress and unwanted pounds to the inescapable effects of hormones or age.

But weight gain, anxiety, and marital difficulties aren’t always so easy to explain.

In her poignant and touching memoir, Allison doesn’t offer recipes, exercise tips, or advice. Instead, she shows us how to stand up, express what we want, and develop empathy for ourselves and the people we love. In doing so, she provides invaluable insight for those seeking to lose weight, save a marriage, or make a significant life change.

Here’s the inside scoop:

After my back went out and I had to give up my sculpture career, I did what most do. I sat around the house, wrote a few books, and ate too much. I gained a ton of weight, almost destroyed my marriage, and had to find myself again. In the process, my husband and I discovered things we never knew about ourselves and what it means to truly love someone.

This is a short book, spanning a year in my life, and writing it required more courage than I thought I had. But I did it because my husband and I both think the story might save women and the men who love them some real pain.

At its heart, the book explores the undercurrents that determine gender roles, identity issues, and women’s equality. Every woman who read it in its beta stage asked to share it with their significant other so that their men would finally understand who they are. I’m not exaggerating and I’m not bragging. The response this book is getting is amazing to me and, while I’m terrified to tell this story, I’m more determined than ever.

This isn’t Lean In. There are no shoulds to make you feel bad about yourself and it’s definitely NOT a diet book. It’s just our story about loving each other enough to do the hard work. Maybe, if I did it well, it will inspire you.

If you’d like to support this endeavor and be one of the first to read it, you can pre-order a copy here.

Pre-ordering will help the book sell by improving its Amazon ranking. The higher the ranking, the more people will take a look. The goal here isn’t money, though that is necessary. The goal is to help.

If what we live through has a purpose, it is in helping others hurt a little less than we did.

Thanks in advance for your support and I can’t wait to hear your thoughts when it’s released.

Picking Up Sticks


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Now that The Romance Diet is in the publication pipeline, I’m starting a new project. This time, I’m going to do it differently. You have been wonderful over the years, supportive of my projects and generous with your thoughts and comments. In gratitude, I’ll be posting each segment of the new project here. It’s called Picking Up Sticks. It may turn into a book. It may not, but I’m compelled to discover the next part of the story and want to share the journey with you first. As always, your comments are encouraged.


It rained in the mountains. Aspens bent like a woman’s back against wind’s relentless onslaught. Birds went wherever birds go when weather refuses to cooperate. A hail of pine needles buried the path. A bright red raspberry fell off a branch, lay blood red and broken in matted grass. The creek heaved and lightning flashed.

Shivering under the shelter of an immense blue spruce, I wiped the wet from my face with trembling hands. Ozone hung thick in the drizzle, a lingering reminder of what had recently passed. Oh god, the dance of low clouds and mist in the meadows, sun on briefly glimpsed peaks, the first returning dragonfly hovering helicopter-like over a stagnant bog. Primrose. Soaked denim. Lichen covered rocks.

Standing, my head brushed a low branch. It released a shower of drops. I fled through tangled brush and over logs, slipped on a mushroom, landed on my ass.

“Come on you fucker! Is that it? Is that all you’ve got?” I laughed.

The storm exhaled another blast. Thunder rumbled. Rain, heavy as pebbles, pummeled my shoulders, ran between shirt collar and neck, and made rivulets down my back. A Search and Rescue daughter should have known better, should have packed food and water, whistle and compass, matches, rain jacket, and warm wool socks. And here I was in cotton and sneakers, lacking even a hat. In the mountains, temperature drops fast.

I picked my way down the trail, slipping here and there on mud or slick rock. My balance has never been good. Grace eludes me. I wanted to be willowy, to bend not crack, but I didn’t get that. Nor did I get thick, glossy locks. I’m of common stock. “Womanly,” my husband says and most days I take it as a compliment. It’s what I have.

The trail switch-backed through dense forest. My knee throbbed from an old injury, or maybe the creep of age. Blinking water from my eyelashes, I caught glimpses between rain drops. The world blurred, a child’s watercolor in brilliant hues smeared across a granite page. I made mental notes: Mullein stalks like giants in meadow grass, the whoosh of hawk wings, the earthy smell of organic rot.

The world is too vast — horrible and beautiful and tangled. In my mind, I’m always on the outside; pushing, prodding, and dragging metaphorical fingernails along tiny cracks in search of the magic opening. I want in. I want to matter. I want to last.

Writing helps, some.

I grew up thinking art was God. Bring hurt and confusion, longing and loneliness to the Church of the Blank Page. Tithe heartache, love, wonder, and rage. Be saved.

By the time I reached the parking lot, found my car, and toweled my hair with a dirty old fleece I found on the back seat, the storm had abated. They do that in New Mexico. Sometimes it will rain on one side of the house and not the other. We sit at the dining room table in the mornings with our tea. My husband faces west. I face east. He comments on the Rufus hovering over a butterfly bush, the deep blue of the sky, the hues of green on pinon and sage. I see rain, wind in saplings, a mist gray sky. And that’s it, I think. If I saw what he did, could face another direction at the same time, I’d find my opening. But I can’t look everywhere all the time.

Making Time


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Last night, we lay under the stars on a makeshift bed. As our eyes adjusted, we tracked satellites across an inky sky.

Our conversation meandered lazily; the scale of galaxies, the barking of neighborhood dogs, a hardware store buy, the upcoming release of my new book

Then a meteor streaked across our view of the sky and we gasped in delight. Its passage was a simple thing that lit up our life.

We’re insanely busy over the next several months. Lots of travel, lots of work. The days bleed into each other. The respite of night passes too fast.

And yet…

If we allow it…

There is time to hold hands and marvel together at a vast and brilliant sky.


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