Growing up fat.

Growing up fat.

There’s a saying that goes ‘once a fat kid, always a fat kid’ and it would make me cringe. Why should being a fat kid, a fat adult, define me? But recently when it came up in conversation again, I realised that it’s true. When you are fat, for whatever length of time you get an insight into how this world treats fat people. You remember when no one found you worth a second look as a date, or worse, only saw you behind closed doors. You know what it is to worry that the sea saw won’t ever go up for you. You believe, for a while, that you can hide your fatness from the world, but they always…

Doing what feels good vs. what serves you.

Doing what feels good vs. what serves you.

Over the past couple of months, all of 2017 really, I’ve been questioning the decisions I make about how I spend my time. Who, what and where I invest it in and why. There have been some interesting things to acknowledge along the way. The main one being that more often than not, I was choosing to do what felt good vs. what served me. I think the professionals call it instant gratification. Well, it was at work over here. I saw it in the choices I was making with my body and the way I interact with people. The relationships I was developing and investing in and the outcomes for me. It turned out that while most of it…

Yup, I must really annoy you.

Yup, I must really annoy you.

I must really annoy you, huh? Me and the way I won’t let you tell me what to do. The woman I am must push your buttons. I look at you, the faceless, and I stand determined, in spite of everything you said is broken about me. That must get to you. But I won’t be sorry for who I am. I won’t bow down to the lies you tell me about my worth, my body or what you deem acceptable. I bet that annoys you. And, to be honest, it’s part of why I do it. Annoying you is a part of having the chance to be free. Not being afraid to let you down or disappoint you means…

34.

34.

How very Adele of me. Thirty-Four. Written just like that as if it will summarise all that this year has been and all the future could be. It’s my birthday, could you tell? Today I turn thirty-four years old and I have feelings about that. Not the usual feelings, I don’t think, but then I’ve never been 34 before. You see, I don’t care about getting old.  I don’t care about ageing. I don’t care about wrinkles or creases, aches and pains. That disregard is a privilege over those whose health isn’t as easy to get along with as mine. But I don’t fear getting old, or being old, I would consider that a gift. That’s not it at all. For…

This morning.

This morning.

This morning, blissfully unaware I am being watched, I stroll back and forward to the bathroom. Times like these I miss my old house and its ensuite. But oh well, we adapt. My bedroom sits atop the lounge room, a mezzanine sort of thing, with about five stairs to take you to the upper bedroom level. As part of my morning routine, I loiter the top story of my house in underwear with music blaring. My current album of choice, Human by Rag’n’Bone Man, requires a lot of singing along. And we all know that singing is better the louder you can push it out. Obviously. Realising my bras were all downstairs in the laundry, damn it, I grabbed my t-shirt…

Why I’m not a ‘not like other girls’ girl, anymore.

Why I’m not a ‘not like other girls’ girl, anymore.

Wow, confusing title, right? My bad. This post is about me being ‘not like other girls’ and why I gave that up and embraced female friendships and empowerment. Taking the time to reflect this International Women’s Day, I wanted to acknowledge where I’ve come from and where I’m going. I’ve always been a Feminist, long before I had the language for it. Long before I knew that wanting to define myself and what I was capable of based on my ability rather than my gender, was feminism. I knew it annoyed me that my brother wasn’t immediately involved in tasks at my Grandmother’s house. I couldn’t understand why people didn’t believe that my mother rode motorbikes, but deferred to my…

I’ve put on weight, and people are weird about it.

I’ve put on weight, and people are weird about it.

It’s true. I’ve put on weight, and people are weird about it. But not in the way that you’d think they would be. Perhaps you’re imagining well-meaning folks giving me weight-loss tips or advice on dieting. Well, nope. That hasn’t happened. What has happened goes a little something like this; Me & Them: Some description of conversation, turns towards gym or eating or wine or cheese. Or all of the above. Me: Yeah, I’ve been feeling it since I hurt my foot, I’ve put on a fair bit of weight. Them: No you haven’t, you look beautiful. No way. Me: Well, actually, I literally have. It’s not a thing, it’s a fact. I’ve put on weight. Them: Nooooo. No way. Seriously.…

Why sharing your experience isn’t attention seeking.

Why sharing your experience isn’t attention seeking.

It’s been a big month for me. Lots of post sharing and commentary about my blog and the way I cover topics here. I watched as my words were taken out of my hands and placed in the hands of others. That’s the scary part of visibility; you really can’t control how people see you. You can craft a persona, based on what you believe and hope is true, but you have no control over how it lands over there. I don’t know about you, but for me, that’s terrifying on a number of levels.  It reminded me of the time I saw a comment on my post that a friend had shared. The comment said something along the lines…

Dying my hair grey and maintaining the colour

Dying my hair grey and maintaining the colour

I know you guys are curious about me dying my hair grey. There are always questions and comments about it when I share a photo on the Facebook or Instagram pages. And I’m not going to sugarcoat it, it’s a pain in the butt sometimes. Grey is probably the hardest colour I’ve ever tried to maintain, and I’ve tried most of them! It’s one of those things, I suppose. Great in theory, but almost impossible to do well. I know. I tried and failed to get to this colour for a million years. Only a slight exaggeration. But we got there in the end. So, what made me decide to go grey? Well, the bottle version. I’m envious of natural grey…