Apples and Oranges

Raise your hands if you’ve ever felt personally victimised by clothing? I’m going to go out on a limb and say, 90% of you have. Shit, I could even say 95%. Clothing sizes in Australia have got to be as inconsistent as the Prime Ministers.

This last few weeks, I’ve been lurking around on Instagram and I’ve noticed a lot of ‘influencers’, when plugging an activewear brand or even just a clothing brand, they make mention of the size they purchased. Now, I have questions. 

1. Why is your size relevant to the brand? 

2. Do you believe that all of your followers will be the same size as you?

3. Why is it necessary to advertise the size of clothing you are able to fit in to?

4. Do you take into consideration that this sort of mentality could quite easily create even more insecurity in your following??                        Because lets face it, we don’t all look like you!       

Now, I know that a lot of us mark our success by the size of clothing we started in and the size that we now fit. It seems to be a badge of honour. I’m definitely not taking aim at anyone who uses their clothing size as a trophy, because I do it too. It’s nice to be able to go and buy a smaller size and feel that instant feeling of elation and accomplishment. What gets to me is why is it so important? Why is our focus ALWAYS on the way we look and what size and even what fucking brand of clothing we wear? I can tell you why, because we have been conditioned to believe, as a female, that our worth is determined by our size, our body shape, our chest size, our waist, our looks. Are you seeing a pattern here? 

There was a news story that broke earlier this week, where a young woman had her drink spiked at a club in Western Australia. She did the right thing by contacting the establishment to let them know what had happened and to consider their security levels. The owner, an older man with 3 sons, fired back at this young woman asking her why she thought she was special enough to be drugged…… I’m not going to down the rabbit hole of his misogynistic manner because I would be here all day. My point is, he deemed this woman not attractive enough to be drugged. Why? Because she was curvy, because she wasn’t a fucking supermodel in his eyes.  Again, a woman’s worth determined by her physical appearance. That shit does my absolute nuts in..

Whilst I digress, I do have a point and it does go back to the power that social media influencers hold in their hands. Young women, even older women and everyone in between look up to these people for inspiration. They look to them for guidance. They look to them to make changes in their own lives. So, why can’t we start seeing a more positive use of this platform? Because size and sex appeal is what sells. I’m waiting to see someone showing their next workout without the need to see their ass popping out in booty shorts. I’m waiting to see practical sports bras that are perfect for people with natural big boobs, not just fake ones that sit exactly where the surgeon left them. Women are eating this shit up thinking their own success will be when they can fit the same size as their favourite influencer. 

I go on a unfollowing spree at least once a week, because I get sick of seeing someone who I honestly admired to begin with, selling out to the pressure of Instagram and the need to wear less to get more. I just want to see at least one fucking person stay true to their original message. Your size is not important, your mental health is. I would love to see everyone go through the accounts they follow and do a little experiment. I want you to watch their stories, go through their feed and ask yourself these questions:

1. Do they inspire me with their message?

2. Does their content make me feel empowered?

3. Do I feel inadequate because of their content?

4. Do I feel like I will be worth more if I look like them?

5. Am I comparing myself to them?

If you get more no’s than you get yes, please. Unfollow them. You owe it to yourself and your own journey to not have the hangup of constantly worrying that you’re not good enough because you don’t look like someone who’s job it is to look that way. 

Breaking the cycle

Once again, it's been a minute. I’ve been locked down dealing with life shit, that this little blog just keeps getting ignored. It’s not intentional. I love writing. It gives me a place to go where I can let it all out with no care of what anyone thinks. Life has gotten in the way, big time. I’ve changed jobs, had some major real life woke moments that have given way to clearing out negativity and nastiness and I’ve realised I’m worth a hell of a lot more than I’ve been given credit for.

It’s amazing what a clear head and a drama free life with do for you. It’s so nice to wake up in the morning and not dread the day ahead. I still have rough days, but nothing like what I’ve experienced in the last 12 months. 

Some of you may get from the tone of my blogs, I am not down for shit behaviour. I don’t tolerate people intentionally setting out to make people feel like shit. I won’t entertain it. I’ve been lucky enough to be able to rid myself of people like this, and I can tell you now, it feels amazing. I’ve been able to give myself room to grow and heal and not let these sorts of people get in the way of my happiness.

It takes a lot to get me down. I have the thickest skin out, but when people are frequently and consistently negative toward you or downright nasty, it eventually takes it toll. Human nature will step in and we will defend ourselves. We lash out, we say shit in the head of the moment, we get nasty back. Does it make you feel any better? For me, it did for the moment, but after a while, the guilt sets in and you realise you are no better than the person who has treated you this way.  If you have someone in your life like this, my condolences, you’ve got yourself a narcissist. 

Narcissists are the actual worst in every facet. They treat you like shit and when you fire back, you’ve created the problem. They play the victim even though it's their villain behaviour that has caused you to react. Narcissists will make you believe that everything is your fault. I am here to tell you though, you are not to blame. Again, it's human nature to react defensively when people continually try to break you down. I’ve been put in this situation for such a long time, that I truly started to believe I was in the wrong, that I had created a problem, but it took a lot of digging deep to realise, I was not to blame.

One thing I learned in my journey of drama, I can only control MY actions. For a long time, I controlled my reactions in a negative way. Biting back, nasty memes and pointed comments, but after a bit of soul searching and conversations with my tribe, I knew that wasn’t the answer. So, I just stopped. I stopped reacting, I stopped biting, I stopped being an asshole, because I knew it wasn’t going to win the battle, but it sure as shit would win the war. When you stop giving a narcissist oxygen, they will eventually shrivel up and die. It is excessively difficult to turn off your reactions, but I can promise you, once you stop giving the drama energy, it will start to die and they will move on to their next victim.

I’ve spent way too long worried about what nasty comment will be coming next, what post will be directed at me via social media, what nasty shit will get said behind closed doors. It’s not worth my mental energy, in all honesty. I know my worth and I know I’m worth more than that. I’m worth more than their jealousy, their insecurities, and if I’m honest, I pity the journey they are on. It must be a sad life to live if you have to spend it trying to tear down other people in order to lift yourself up.

If we can take anything away from this, just be kind. Kindness costs not a single thing. You really don’t need to be besties with everyone, you just need to not be a dick. It’s really not that hard to not be a massive thunder c*nt, so give it a try. You might even start to feel better about yourself.

Where the Mean Girls hide.

If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a million times, when will the hateful madness end??? When will the battle of the bitches cease to exist? I honestly am borderline embarrassed to be a woman some days, because all we seem to do is tear each other down to lift ourselves up.

For as long as I can remember, society has always had a way of being at the forefront of the women against women movement. For some ungodly reason, the idea of women getting along and supporting one another is a real problem, and the biggest  problem of them all is that as women, we’ve fallen into the trap. We have forgotten what it means to be a part of a sisterhood who stand by one another in their time of need and protect each others hearts.

I’m not saying it has to be a massive love in where we all are besties, because lets face it, not everyone is meant to get along. I’m a big believer in realising that you don’t need to like everyone and everyone doesn’t need to like you. I think its completely fine to dislike someone, its human nature. Whats not ok is using that dislike to drag someone down, to make yourself feel like a better person. Because, lets face it, if you actively go out of your way to make people feel like shit, because of your dislike to them, you are a despicable human being. You lack the moral integrity to just accept how you feel and move on. Your actions are childlike and down right embarrassing. 

Making fun of someones appearance, their weight, their job, their hair style, their lifestyle, just because you think its your god given right to, is not ok. How about trying this, get your nose out of their life. Get your nose out the things they do, and you will likely find that you will be consistently less offended by their existence.

I have seen some really fucking horrible things being said on social media platforms by women about other women. Calling them fat, sluts, whores, skinny cunts. The list is endless. And the worst of it all is, this is coming from women, not girls, not teenagers. Full grown women who should fucking know better!!!!! If they have daughters, what sort of example are they setting? What sort of values are they teaching their children? They are opening degrading and treating others like rubbish and showing their children that its perfectly ok for them to do the same. I honestly weep for the next generation, that are being brought up to think this behaviour is ok, when plain and simply, its fucking not. The mean girl mentality is getting completely out of hand and when its coming from full grown women, its even more atrocious because simply put, we should know better. I can only imagine they have been through something similar themselves, so it baffles my mind that they deem it appropriate to do it to others.

I have a son. A son I’ve taught to treat others how you want to be treated. Treat girls with respect and treat your brothers with the same. I would be disgusted and ashamed if he ever treated someone in this manner, because that is not how I have raised him. I have taught him its ok not to like someone and for them not to like you. I am far from perfect myself, I’ve learned the hard way that my actions have consequences, and speaking horribly of people is only going to come back and bite me in the ass. So I take the high ground, I take the path of least resistance and move on from what others think of me, because I’m not going to continue to lower myself to that level and make people feel the way I have been made to feel.

I know the world isn’t going to change overnight, society will not change when we are so competitive with one another. Unfortunately, this is the new world order. BUT, that is no excuse for allowing it to continue. SO, how can you help be the change you want to see in the world? Its really not hard. It goes back to the simple values our parents taught us as children, if you have nothing nice to say, don’t say anything at all. If you can’t bring yourself to say something nice, keep your mouth shut. You don’t know the power of words, and how much they can destroy someone. If you don’t like someone, don’t make it your personal mission to make their lives hell, you just end up looking like a giant fucking asshole in the end.

Happy New Year!!!

So guys, here we are. New Years Eve for 2018. The year is done. I’m currently preparing my house for a quiet celebration tonight but I knew I needed to take some time to get this one done and out of the way.

2018 for me wasn’t exactly a year I would call a success. I had many successes, but I had more setbacks. Funnily enough, the majority of my setbacks were self inflicted and not exactly unavoidable. Self-sabotage extraordinaire right here. I guess this year had a lot of growth. I had one of my mentally hardest years in the longest time. I had multiple melt downs that lead to stupid ass decisions and stupid ass moments I WISH I could take back. I came close to sabotaging so much good in my world, because for some reason I am of the belief that good does not come to me.

Well, that being said, 2019 is going to be different. None of this New Year, New Me bullshit. 2019 for me is going to be about getting over myself and not being such a victim. I have a bit of a victim mentality. When shit goes wrong, I make the biggest drama humanly possible that it ends up being so much worse than it needs to be. So 2019 is about curbing that behaviour and understanding that I am the Master and Commander of my own destiny. I can’t sit around and wait for the world to fix what is broken, I have to get in there, get my hands dirty and fix what I can for myself, and truly no-one else.

I have big goals for 2019. I’m not making a massive list and tearing myself apart if I don’t achieve them. I am breaking it down month by month and seeing where the wind takes me. I don’t like to be held hostage by deadlines, but I know I am a sucker for structure, so working month by month is simply the best option for me. The goal for January is to just survive. Get through returning to work, my Son entering Grade 3 and getting back on top of the dwindled funds thanks to the Christmas period. This to me is a perfect goal because I am not setting myself up to fail. I’m being responsible with what I know I have to do to make sure 2019 is an actual success, not a shit show.

One of my biggest goals is to get on top of my emotional health. I have suffered severely with Anxiety and Depression this year. My body dysmorphia was in full swing so I need to sort out that shit. I need to get out of my own head and see things for what they really are, and truth be told, they are pretty fucking wonderful. I just need to accept change and be positive for all the little wins! Emotional health is so fucking important, its the only way that physical health can reach its true potential. If your heart is unhappy, how in the hell do you expect it to be physically sound? This is definitely a hard lesson I have had to learn, but I know that my body needs my mind to be happy, or it will never, ever be what it truly can be.

Now normally on New Years, I’m not a celebrator. Truth be told I was secretly hoping for an early night and a early morning start to go to the Coast and do the Burleigh National Park ocean walk. That was my hope. The tables turned though and Husband and his best Man-Friend decided that we must burn the massive bon-fire and eat all of the smoked ribs the world has to offer. I drank more than I ever though I could muster over the last week that I really was looking forward to resting my liver, but I know that will not be the case. I have to deal with my social anxiety and be social and try not to vomit from my pure inability to process social interactions and human interaction. Fun hey? Happy Fucking New Year.

So, as I sit here and write, I have to reflect on the great things that have happened this year and be so god damn thankful for each and every moment, person, experience. I have to be so grateful for my husband, who without him, I would have fallen apart and the pieces would be lost, I am grateful for my best friend, who despite our blue period, has been my light at the end of the tunnel and my pure saviour when I’ve been a brat. I’m grateful for my family, each one of them has given me so much more purpose and reason to be around for the long run. I’m grateful for my Empire Crew, they’ve been my biggest supporter and I cannot imagine a life without their dysfunctional functionality. Last, but certainly not least, I am so fucking grateful for the ones who are in the shadows, throwing shade, judgement and hate. I see you, and I appreciate you. Simply because without your dislike and your constant need to bring me down, I would not be able to rise above. You’ve taught me that I am a force to be reckoned with and I’m a bad ass bitch who is completely capable of rising above the drama and I’m a stronger, better person for doing so.

So, in short, Happy Fucking New Years kids. Have the best night, be safe in the presence of friends and family. Remember that just because January 1 rolls around, everything doesn’t instantly get better. Work for it, work hard and don’t let self doubt ruin your hard work. 

Peace out, see you in 2019.

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall, what fucking size am I?

Shopping. Holy shit, I love to shop! It’s one of my favourite past times and I think it’s safe to say if it were an Olympic sport, your girl would be a gold medalist. The Mail Man and I are almost on a first name basis and my whole office knows when he turns up, more often than not it’s something for me..

Truth be told though, the one thing that gives me heart palpitations is clothes shopping. Now, I can buy active wear and feel 100% confident in my purchases. I feel like a lyrca covered queen who is ready to brunch with the best of them in my Active Wear. Real people clothes though, that’s another story. You see, I struggle with this condition called “Fat Brain”. In my head, I am much bigger than I really am. I expect that when I treat myself to a good old shop, I have to buy 2 sizes bigger than what my body requires.

In all truth, I suffer from Body Dismorphia. I struggle to see what others see. When I look in the mirror, I see something that no one else does. I see a chunky monster. I don’t see the woman who has essentially halved in size since the beginning of my journey. I don’t see what my Husband sees. I don’t accept when he compliments me. I get awkward and shrug it off with the roll of my eyes and a tantrum for him telling me what he thinks I want/need to hear. He’s only telling me the truth, yet my mind says nope, he’s sparing your feelings. It’s a constant internal battle. Some days I feel amazing in my skin, I see the changes that I have made and I feel incredible. Other days, I just have to cop myself on the wrong angle, and I’m down for the count. It’s a fun little game of who’s coming to play in my mind today.

I have always struggled with my body image. It’s not an easy thing to overcome when its been a constant companion. Recently, fat brain thwarted my attempts to buy an outfit.. I have a cocktail style Christmas Party coming up. None of my dresses I own fit me anymore, they are all too big. I got a lovely email from one of my favourite stores.. 30% off, ends tonight! The brightly coloured email screamed directly in my face, and I answered the call. I found a gorgeous white lace dress.. Then, the same drama I have every time I go shopping entered my mind. What size do I buy? My safe size has always been a 14. A 14 keeps my boobs and booty in check, but was generally large around my waist. So, naturally, I went for this option. I thought to myself, it will be a bit big, but it’s better than being too small, am I right? I was so incredibly wrong. Once again, I have underestimated my progress and this roller coaster ride of a journey I have been on. I received the dress, I love it SICK, but shock fucking horror, its too FUCKING BIG! So now I have to go through the process of returning the damned thing and going down a size because my mind tells me I am still the same size I have always been… Thanks, bitch.

SO, what’s the lesson here? Shut down that negative shit your brain likes to feed you. Constantly tearing yourself apart is only going to hinder your achievements and take away from all of the rad shit we do in our life. I’m not perfect, my body isn’t perfect, but it’s a damn sight better than it used to be. I am slowly learning to accept what I have and I am a massive advocate for body positivity and acceptance. Even though I’m still learning to love and accept mine, it truly breaks my heart to think of how much people torture themselves every single day because we live in a society that seems to be stuck in a time where only pretty, perfect people deserve to love themselves. The rest of us can only get the sloppy seconds of self-acceptance and, to be blunt, it’s just not fucking good enough. Every single person deserves to feel good in their own skin, regardless of their size, their shape, their colour or their gender. If I may suggest, switch off social media for a day or 10. This will drastically help improve how you feel about yourself. Live in the moment, you’ll feel a million times better for it.

The dark side of Social Media

Social Media. I love to hate it and I hate that I love it. I love that it holds an amazing purpose, but I hate that it dictates our lives. I love that we can run our businesses online, we can reach people we never thought possible and we can connect with people on the other side of the world who share the same passions. I hate that we determine our worth based on the amount of likes we get on a post or by the amount of followers we have. 

I’ve always used social media. It has opened my eyes to new music, new people and new places on numerous occasions. It has given me ideas for projects, for new blogs and tutorials to learn how to be a girl and do make up. Over time though, Social Media became a competition. A place where we could compare our lives and achievements and try and outdo one another. It has slowly become an extremely toxic place to be.

I run my own fitness journey Instagram, so I follow mainly fitness pages. I follow women who have been on the same journey I have and its awesome to see the progress of these women unfold. Then I follow the Instagrams of the Instant Models and my journey ends up feeling lack lustre… I see their chiseled bodies, their perfect hair and beautiful faces and in my head I end up thinking while I’m scrolling through for ‘Inspiration’ Wow, I mustn’t work hard enough. I eat well, with the occasional blow out (hey, I am a human who enjoys food), so why don’t I look like that?! I have fallen so deeply into that cycle of thinking and went down a path of believing that I had to train twice a day to achieve an Instagram worthy body. In doing so, I was wearing myself out and undoing a great deal of the progress I had made. All because Instagram tells me that I’m not good enough because I’m not a teeny tiny goddess with a tiny waist and an amazing booty.

I struggle to find people of social media who are even remotely authentic. I see nothing but women in tiny little booty shorts and crop tops working out, making people feel inferior because they, like most normal people, are red faced and sweating profusely from parts of their body they never knew could sweat. There are more and more online coaches than you can poke a stick at, that promise if you follow their program you can build a booty in 28 days and lose 10kgs in 5 weeks all for a small monthly fee of $500! The most heartbreaking part of this whole situation is, there are women and men out there who are desperate for change that they will fall for that fabulous marketing ploy and shell out the big bucks for poorly written programs and little to no support from the person who has their name attached to the program. Now, I am not putting all of these people in one basket, because I know there are a handful of reputable online programs out there which don’t promise unrealistic goals, but they are few and far between. 

When I jump onto any social platform, I see so many posts from yet another influencer, sprouting about a product which has dramatically reduced the size of their waist, a tea that has made them shit out every last bit of their stomach contents, or a cream which has reduced the size of their thighs. Have I been sucked in by these sorts of posts? You bet your Aunt Fanny I have and boy, do I feel like a twat waffle for doing so! I’m sorry, but no amount of detoxing tea is going to undo the years of bad eating habits and booze filled nights. All its going to do it give you a stomach ache and an empty wallet. These influencers and celebrities get paid a disgusting amount of money to promote the use of these rubbish products. I’m sure we can all remember when Kim K promoted appetite suppressing lollypops… What an actual joke! The worst part is, there are women that completely trust the word of these people and will buy whatever they are selling. Why the hell would you want to suppress your appetite?? There is nothing I love more than eating!! Its the best thing ever and the idea of having a lollypop to stop myself from eating is absolute tripe!!!!!

What I think everyone needs to remember is, with the majority of what we see on our screens every day, not a great deal of it is reality. Do influencers realise the damage they do to their audience (which might I add is generally young women who are under enough pressure to be perfect) with these paid posts? You earn a commission endorsing an anti-bloating tea that young girls go out and buy thinking that drinking said tea will help them look like you! I have to pose this question to all the influencers out there, if you weren’t getting paid for promoting the product, would it be sitting in your perfectly organised pantry?? Why are you not promoting a lifestyle of balance? A lifestyle of healthy eating, an active lifestyle, a sneaky cheat meal once a week and a whole lot of self love, I think your audiences deserve that, because without them, your success would not exist.. You prey on the naiveté of people who are already feeling pretty rubbish about themselves to prop up your bank account, when we all know that if you weren’t getting a pretty pay cheque, you wouldn’t even dream of having that shit in your house. You all know that the key to having a healthy body is a healthy lifestyle, so wouldn’t it make sense to promote this instead? Oh wait, probably not, because it doesn’t pay you all as well.

To anyone who has seen a post on social media and felt inferior, please remember, you are only seeing the parts of your life that they want you to see. They aren’t showing you the ugly truth that is their reality, because that sort of thing doesn’t gain followers. You owe it to yourself to remember that you are not any less of a person because your life isn’t like that of someone who is Insta Famous because lets be real, neither is theirs. You do you, enjoy the ride that is social media, but don’t fall into the trap of their life is better than mine because honey, its not. Your reality is your story and its a rad story to tell. 

What strength......

I’m defeated. Not in a ‘this feeling shall pass’ defeat, but in a, ‘holy shit how epically did you fail?’ defeat. I’m sitting here thinking to myself, how did I cock up so epically? How did I fail so badly? I’m not very kind to myself in defeat. Truth be told, I will tear myself up about it for a good few days because I am failing to get my head around it all.

Today was strength test day. We have trained for months to improve n our 3 major lifts, Squats, Bench and Deadlifts. It is honestly my favourite type of training, its a true test of your real strength. I had 2 PBs to hit and 1 that I needed to stick because last time, I didn’t get deep enough in my squat for it to count. We prepare for this, we build ourselves up for this, we get so focussed on the end goal. We have numbers to beat and a point to prove. Not to anyone else, but to ourselves, we want to tell our old selves just how much more of a badass we are now, that what we were 5 months ago. It’s a big deal to all of us, we take this shit to heart. We live and breathe test time.

Today, I was walking into my test time with a positive heart and what I thought was my boss bitch attitude. Apparently, I left my boss bitch at the door and brought along Becky instead. Dick. Move. I felt weak from my very first deadlift. I could feel every single muscle in my body saying fucking not today, bitch! I felt off. I felt empty. I kept pushing and come my 3rd and final attempt, I realised the dream was dead and I had fucked up. I swore. I cursed. I tried to keep my gangsta going, but that shit was fading faster than lightning I was extremely disappointed but I knew I had 2 more tests to go. I could redeem myself. I chose bench next. Knowing my last PB was an easy beat because that PB I now do for reps. First lift, brilliant. Great guns, this boss bitch has it. Annnnnnnd that was a no from me. on my 2nd attempt, I bombed. Hard. I was again, weak and sore. I cursed a little louder this time and those prickly hot tears started forming in the corner of my eyes. I was fucking MAD, like furious at how badly I had just failed myself. What was I doing? What was I missing?? How the shit did I fuck this up? I was so defeated but I knew, one more lift to go. I had made my mind up, I wasn’t walking out of The Vault without a PB for the day. I would have been broken.

I knew to take my time with my squats. Really take a breather between each set. From my first squat, I felt strong. I knew then I had this shit in the bag. I knew it was going to happen. 4 weight ranges in, it was time to meet my last PB. I was determined to get that, at the very least. I nailed it and it wasn’t time to stop. I had one more in me. So we wacked on a little more weight and off I went. I could feel my body fighting me, saying, no. Thats enough. I had no choice but to tell it, girl just a little bit more. I could feel my body wanting to stop, but I pushed through and smashed my PB. I was fucking elated and so god damn happy. My happiness however, was marred by my last 2 failings. My mind still cast back to the, what the fuck moment.

I dissected my thoughts and the events leading up to today. I had lacked motivation already. I had so many different emotions running through my head. So many what the actual fuck just happened? moments. Moments of pure rage. My head was not even remotely in the game. I was not as mentally prepared as I normally would be. So the disappointment was beyond real. I haven’t felt that zapped in a long while.

I kind of did the whole self sabotage thing. I am pro at it. I knew in the back of my mind that I should have scaled back training this week so that I could reserve some energy. I didn’t do that. I did a massive Ninja class last night so my body was well and truly cooked! I didn’t take a day to recover and let my body rest because in my mind. It was business as usual. What a fucking stupid move. I know my body well enough to know when it needs to rest and I let it down. I was even going to walk my fucking dog this morning. Thankfully, it was raining. 

So. Why am I so hard on myself? I’m not a competitive person, but I am when it comes to myself though. If I did something well, I need to be sure that the next time, I do it even better. I am always chasing better. Always chasing the next goal. I want to achieve so I can look back and say, I fucking killed it today. I didn’t leave with that feeling and I’m gutted. I seem to be very good at ignoring what I did achieve today. Squatting more than my own body weight, yep, pretty fucking happy with that. But still, the persisting frustration is real. 

I have no silver lining to this story, I’m not going to miraculously break out of this deep fuck with some positive affirmations. I’m going to be defeated for a while. I’m going to lick my wounds and heal my excessively battered ego. ’m going to use that defeat to reflect on why I didn’t perform the way I was expecting. I will use the time to gain some more fuel for my fire, to regroup and come back bigger and better next test. For now though, I will stick with my rage and try not to cut a bitch in between time.

Fear(less)

Fear. What a wonderful little emotion. Fear creates a purpose, a reason. What fear also does is tricks your mind into believing you can't. But how the hell do we move past the fear and start moving towards what is on the other side of that fear?

One of my biggest fears in the world is Spiders. Spiders do things to my emotions that I really don’t think is healthy. They say fear is a product of your environment. Outside influences, like your family and friends are apparently the biggest contributors to your fears. Well then, thats interesting to me, because I’m pretty sure that the Huntsman Spider the size of my palm that came running out of my rollerblade when i was 11, or the Redback Spider that sat on my shoulder while I was writing when I was around the same age have EVERYTHING to do with my fear….. I consider my arachnophobia a fear of purpose. I fear what could actually kill me given that they are poisonous beasts and this wonderful country I live in is full of the poisonous little fuckers! But the other fears I have, do they have a purpose? Or are these fears I have created in my own head because I believe I cannot achieve.

A few years back, I was in to Pole Fitness. I absolutely loved it. I went to classes 3-4 times a week. I was obsessed! I danced for roughly 2 years, and was starting to move into the advanced aspect. The hard tricks. The stuff that you see professional Pole Dancers do in competitions and you think to yourself, super powers must play a part in this madness. Mind you, I wasn’t even remotely that good. I flew by the seat of my pants through most of my Pole career. I would always pull a rabbit out of my hat for grading day. Thats a talent that has taken many years to perfect, mind you!

One night, We were practicing deadlift inverts (ie, no jumping into your invert, you needed nothing but pure strength to get your ass to point north, not south). I was getting pretty good at dead lift inverts, it was bloody hard for me because I have little in the way of upper body strength, but it was something i was determined to nail, so I worked my booty off. On this night, I was having to invert and then caterpillar climb up the pole (upside down climbing is a WHOLE other world). When I was upside down, something happened, something I to this day have absolutely no recollection of. I lost all contact points on the pole, all my life lines that kept me glued to brass, just came unstuck. I hit the ground with such incredible force, head first. How I didn’t cause myself a major injury, i will never know. At first, I didn’t realise what I had done. Then, it hit me when the pain kicked in. I went into full blown shock. My husband had to be called to collect me and take me to get checked for a concussion (i escaped with a bloody big bump on my noggin and a very, very bruised ego).

After my fall, I knew I had no choice but to get back on the saddle. Not let the fall stop me. This worked for a few weeks, but, after a while of suddenly not being able to nail a simple invert, I knew I let my fear take over. Fear has a habit of consuming every aspect of the activity you are taking part in and its exceedingly difficult to switch off fear and get on with the job. I was so disappointed in myself.. I didn’t think I would ever let fear take control of me like that, but I did, and I was absolutely livid. It wasn’t long after that I decided to hang up my 8 inch heels for good. That was the ultimate let down. I lived and breathed Pole Dancing. I flew to Melbourne to compete, I was mastering heel clacks, I was almost Fanny to the Floor in my splits, for Christ sake! I let my fear take away the one extra-curricular activity that I was truly passionate about, and its definitely something I probably wont ever let myself forget.

Fast forward to now. Ninja class at Empire. Its a gangsta testing, ass whooping of a class that focusses on grip strength, upper body strength and moves that you see on those amazing shows like Ninja Warrior. We were learning how to do German Pull-ups…. German pull-ups which required me to be upside down. My brain went fucking ballistic!!!! I was already having visions of dropping straight on my head. With the support of my Coach, I somehow managed to flip myself upside down. I was hanging on by my knees and iron gripped fists. I don’t think I have ever held on to something so tight in my life. I wasn’t coming off for anyone. After my first few attempts, and getting over the mild panic attack, I realised what I had done. i had begun to conquer a fear. A  fear that stopped me from doing something I loved. Now, months on from my very first upside down experience in years, I am hanging upside down with no fear, I am standing on my head for minutes at a time and I can finally acknowledge what I've done. I have overcome fear.

There is a song by one of my favourite bands and there is a line that really sticks with me, Fear is the hand that pulls your strings, and its true. Fear is the main contributor to what we do and don’t do in our lives. If you have a fear of flying (I also have one of these, bloody hell, I’m a good time….) you don’t go on soul searching adventures, or even short flights to a new city, if you have a fear of the ocean, you will miss out on a world of wonder and beauty. If you have a fear of failure, will you take that leap into a new direction, probably not. You will stay tied down to boring and mediocre because of the what ifs. If you fear judgement, you spend your days consumed by the idea that people are judging your every move and picking apart the very edges of you. Generally speaking, the people who you think are judging you, are more often than not thinking the Exact. Same. Thing.

Think about this, what if you do fail? Well, you just try again. Failure is nothing to fear. Failure gives us purpose, it gives us stories to tell, it gives us reason to keep trying to do better. Its healthy to be a little scared of the what ifs. The what ifs breathe life into the mediocre and give our days a little more excitement and pizzaz!

I challenge you to do something that you fear. Strike up conversation with a stranger, book a short flight to another city, go snorkelling. If you consistently let your fear control you, you will come to the end of your days with a sense of regret and the “what ifs” lingering in the background, reminding you of the things you had complete control over, that you let control you. My challenge to you also extends as a challenge to myself. I challenge myself to let go of fears that have held me back from achieving so much more. I challenge myself to let go of hate. I challenge myself to show myself some love and appreciation. I challenge myself to book that damn holiday to New Zealand. You only live once, do you want to get to the end of your days and say I wish I did more, or do you want to say, that was one hell of a ride......

The Girl of my Dreams

My house is a boys club. I am outnumbered 3:2. I am surrounded by manly energy, musty smells and so much mess coming from most rooms. My only ally is in the form of an attitude filled, jerk of a cat named Ivy. So named after Poison Ivy from Batman, my favourite Femme-Fatale. My Spirit animal. My cat has embodied all aspects of Poison Ivy, so she honours her name-sake. My house is run by my Husband, My son and my Staffy named Bane who has also well and truly earned his name-sake, being the bane of my existence but really he's just misunderstood. They rule the roost with their farts, their fart jokes and their never ending food consumption.

Recently, I have been thinking a lot about the what ifs. You see, my husband and I are steadfast in our decision to have only one child. After a horrific pregnancy and an even more horrific birth which could have very easily resulted in the loss of mine and my sons’ life, we made the decision that our Son will be our last. My Hubby, the supportive and extremely loving man he is, made it perfectly clear that he could never put me through that ever again.  He could not watch me suffer from day one and even to this very day, for the sake of adding to our brood. I have also been very vocal in my decision, that I suffered so greatly and I missed out on so much of my sons young life due to PND and PTSD that I could physically and mentally never do it again.

My son is school aged now, 7.5 years old to be exact. He constantly asks me for a little sister, to which I have to explain every single time that I cannot give him what his heart so desperately wants. Every time I have to do this, my heart breaks just a little bit more. Do I feel like the most selfish asshole in the world? You’re damn right I do, because I know just how good of a big brother he would be if he ever got the opportunity to wear that badge. He is getting to understand a little better now, so the question isn’t ever posed as often as it used to be. I know when the question is coming though, because he will have spent time with a friend and their little sister. I see how much he dotes on any little girl that crosses his path. Just this last weekend, while we were at the park, a little girl got on a rocking swing with him, and he was nothing but gentle with her and asked her questions to keep her interest. He is completely enamored by his Footy team mates little sister, he always has so much time to give her. SO its safe to say when these moments happen, I have to mentally prepare myself for his hurting heart and his wants that I cannot fulfill. I feel like I've robbed him of an opportunity of a life time, to be the best Big Brother out there and that feeling never goes away, it just gets easier to deal with.

I can see it in my husband too. He gives my best friends daughter so much attention, because he knows that will never be his situation. He won’t ever have that daddies little girl moment. That little girl who sees nothing but a super hero and a guiding light coming from her fathers chest. He won’t ever have a little girl who wants to paint his nails and do his make up. Or even have a tea party with stuffed animals and pretend English Breakfast Tea. He won't get to drop her off at her first date and be the dad that gives unspoken fear to her suitor. I can see his heart also aches for the what ifs, but I also know that the words will be left unsaid to save my heart. I can tell you this though, I have absolutely no doubt in my heart that if our tables turned and our minds were changed, that if a little girl chose us to be her guide to this earth side life, she would have the most amazing father to protect her from skinned knees, her brother being an annoying shit head and from Mummy when she needs to brush her hair because she knows that daddy will be so much gentler. 

For me, I think of what I’m going to miss out on. Wearing matching outfits while we go shopping or to breakfast together. Watching all my make up being destroyed by a little girl who wants so badly to be just like her Mummy. Arguing with her over the fact that your shoes need to match and your socks do too, even though Mummy never wears matching socks. The secrets whispered about her boyfriend at school because she knows if she tells Daddy, he will tell her she’s not allowed a boyfriend until she is 50. The advice she would come to me for about her body and why it’s suddenly hairy. Her first heartbreak from a boy or girl who wasn’t ever going to be good enough for her anyway. I wonder who she would look like, but it would likely be her Dad because the Raw genes take over the universe. I would secretly hope she would get my eyes and my nose, so that she has a hint of my family and their heritage.

I am excessively grateful for the family I have. I have a little boy who will indulge me and let me dress us the same, because I am such a tom boy at heart. He lets me buy matching shoes for us. He gives me the best hugs and tells me I’m pretty. He wants me to lay with him when he’s going to sleep, because I think he knows I wasn’t a part of that when he was younger. He’s going to his very first Concert next week with us to see Queens of the Stone Age and I am so bloody excited that he will have his first live music experience with one of my favourite bands, and not one that Dad likes. It’s the biggest parenting competition my Husband and I hold, so I’m winning!

He loves and admires his dad so very much. He wants to be wherever he is, he wants to do whatever he is doing. He wants him to watch his favourite shows with him, even though Dad has seen that same fucking episode at least 5 times that week. He’s playing Rugby League because Dad did and he’s playing at Dads club. He will be his father’s son in every sense. Tall, strong and deep down, kind hearted.

I have accepted that the what ifs will never come to pass. I have grown to accept that the little girl I have visions of in my deepest of sleep is a little girl by the name of Charlotte Rose, who will always be just a dream. But, what a dream it is. In my dreams she will succeed at everything she touches and she will grow to be the most beautiful girl in the world. She will be protected by her Brother at all costs and will want to be a writer, just like me, but she will actually do something about it. She will be fiercely strong because her Dad will have taught her that she is to take no shit from anyone. She will be my baby girl who will remain in my dreams and I can watch her grow from there.

Food For Thought (and Fuel)

I don’t know about you, but food is one of my all time favourite things. I love it. Breakfast is one of my favourite meals to have! The options are endless and Breakfast foods quite often become dinner foods in my world. I am that person who just does not stop eating. I am forever hungry and my hungry can turn to hangry in .2 seconds flat. I eat at least 6 times a day and at pretty much the exact same time every single day. I have essentially trained my body to know that its time for food and that I have roughly 10 minutes to eat before my whole day is thrown into complete disarray!

I have always had a relatively healthy relationship with food. Food for me is comfort, its incredibly social and in my eyes, it is something that is meant to be enjoyed. I haven’t ever really been a comfort eater, but if I feel like something disgusting and fatty, I’m going to eat it. Sure, I will regret it but not in the sense of beating myself up over it. I will regret it because I don’t have a gallbladder and my body cannot process excessive amounts of fats. I don’t have a negative association with food. I do, however know what my body can and can’t tolerate and unfortunately, my list of tolerable foods dwindled significantly after my gallbladder gave up the ghost (but thats a story for another day).

When I started my fitness journey, I had no idea on what types of food I should be eating. I blindly followed peoples advice when they said you should eat 1200 calories a day to lose weight. I downloaded the My Fitness Pal app and I tracked my 1200 calories. I don’t think i have ever felt so restricted (and fucking HANGRY) in my life. 1200 calories covered breakfast, lunch and one snack…….. Needless to say, the 1200 calorie fad died in the ass after about a week. My body and my mind could not take such abuse!! 

I increased my calories to what I thought was a more workable amount. I was having roughly 1600 calories a day. This gave me a hell of a lot more freedom when it came to food, but still, it wasn’t enough. Even though I felt like all i was doing was eating, I was still not eating enough to function. I was always tired, I had little to no energy and for the amount that I was training, this was not working for me. When I first started eating 1600 calories, I lost roughly 8 kgs in a month.. Amazing right?! Wrong. So very, very wrong. I lost not only fat, but I lost muscle. I was starving myself essentially. I was only eating enough to keep me awake during the day, not enough to keep my body firing under the pressure I was putting it under.

I was feeling at a loss when it came to food simply because i couldn’t get it right. I thought eating nothing but lean protein and salads was the key to weight loss, I ignored carbs as much as humanly possible and I was under eating. No wonder I was always bloody hungry! My Coach stepped in and set me up a nutritional plan to help me along with eating enough to fuel my body. When we did the calculations for how much I should be eating, I nearly fell off my chair when she said I need to start eating almost 2600 calories…….. I thought to myself, look out Migaloo, you’re going to have a rival soon! Now, I know full well that my Coach would never lead me down the garden path and set me up to fail so I trusted her and remained cautiously optimistic. In my first few weeks of my new eating plan, I had my measurements done and I had dropped 6cms off my waist! In that moment, a few things happened. I thought, shit, we’ve measured in the wrong spot. Then i realised, no actually, I have been feeling a little slender, so maybe we’re on to a good thing here. Then, the realisation really set in. I have been eating a ridiculous amount of food and my body is THANKING ME!!!!!!!! Instead of starving my body, I was providing it everything it needed to function. With my new revised plan, I am currently sitting at 2200 calories a day and I still sometimes struggle to fit in all the food!

Its funny how much misleading information there is out there regarding eating for a healthy weight loss goal. I always thought carbs were the devil, but turns out, carbs are in fact your friend! I will never in my life turn my nose up at a white potato ever again! Those delicious little guys have had such a bad wrap over the years! 

Eating for Weight Loss for me is not about salads, boiled chicken and brown rice. Its about maintaining a nice balance that allows me to eat the foods that I like. I still have things like Nachos, peanut butter cups and granola. The only difference is, that all of these things are homemade from quality ingredients and are a much healthier alternative to the store bought versions.  

I am by no means a nutritionist, this is my journey. My story. This works brilliantly for me, and whilst it does work so well for me, there is no guarantee that it will work well for you. Speaking to someone who knows a little something about what a body needs to survive is a sure fire way to achieve results. If you’re feeling overwhelmed, book a consult with a Nutritionist or a food coach. Be educated in your decisions, don’t just sign up for a 8 week challenge because you see how much weight people lose and expect long lasting results. Most of these ‘Challenges’ see you consuming significantly less calories that what your body actually needs, hence the extreme weight loss. If you’re going to sign up for a challenge, make it one where food isn’t the enemy, its fuel.

I have felt judged when I go out for dinner with people because I am not eating a dainty little salad with a side of protein. I choose to eat the meal that is balanced as it can be. I choose to eat the meal that is not snack sized because I know what my body needs. I also know that there are people judging whats on my plate, but to them I say, you don’t know my journey so kindly, get the fuck back in your box. You may be happy with your bowl of leaves, just like I am happy with my steak, veggies and glorious white potato!!!! It is not up to others to determine what you have on your plate, nor is it their right to judge you for it. Eat what makes you happy, of course in moderation, but don’t ever feel like you can’t enjoy that plate of ribs because the person next to you is eating chicken and salad. If it fits your macros or your food goals for the day, go for it! Even if it doesn’t fit your goals, tomorrow is a new day. One day of overindulging will not make you fat, just like one day of healthy eating will not make you skinny.