For some, beauty is seen as a gift. For me, it was a magnet I never asked for — one that attracted danger before I even understood what it meant to protect myself.
I ran from home at 15, not because I was rebellious, but because I was trying to survive. My mother’s second husband tried to take what was never his to touch. And he wasn’t the only one.
There are chapters I’ve lived through that I rarely speak aloud — abduction, violence, the kind that tries to take not just your body but your voice. But I never let them break my pride. I stayed standing, quietly gathering strength in the shadows.
My healing didn’t come through words — it came through movement. I poured everything into my body: fitness, routine, control. Sport became my anchor. Health became my rebellion. This devotion didn’t just shape my physique — it preserved my mind. And at 52, I now stand here not just whole, but radiant in my survival.
Forgiveness didn’t arrive easily. But I chose it — not to excuse the past, but to free myself from it. I learned to release what I couldn’t repair. Then came the pandemic, and life tried once again to take me down. I was fighting Covid, losing my hair, my strength, my reflection. But I held on — not for beauty, but for my two small children, just 3 and 6 at the time.
What I’ve discovered is this: a woman’s strength is not in how she smiles, or how she walks, or how the world praises her. It’s in what she’s survived. In the quiet wars no one sees. My battles became my crown — and that crown didn’t need to be made of gold.
It was built, one scar at a time, from everything I refused to let define me.
And now, as Mrs. Mediterranean Classique 2025, I’m proudly taking this new chapter to the stage of Mrs. European Nations in Greece. I’m embracing this journey with an open heart, eager to meet new friends, exchange stories, and dive into a world filled with fashion, passion, and unapologetic feminine energy.
Follow my journey on my official Instagram
Follow my journey on my official Facebook
