When Bigger IS Better

Bigger is better when your first glass of wine was served by some tigharse douche canoe in a standardised sippy cup BUT thankfully on your next trek to the bar, a mouthful later, you get the cute little bar man who gives it to you with a wink and in a pint. #dontcarehowidrinkmywine

Bigger is better when you go to the ATM expecting to only see $25.00 but on the balance on the screeen shows $250! Woohoo! #hitthejackpot

Bigger is better when you are in a weight loss competition… Seriously the bigger guys always win! #moretolose

But bigger is not better if “it’s” as big as this guys forearm coz then that pounding he’s about to unleash isn’t going to be fun for us… And that’s coming from a mother of five watermelons… Ahem I mean children. #itcantfitinthere

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My husband would definitely say bigger boobs and a bigger arse are better but that’s no surprise coz he is a boob and arse man after all … #arenttheyall

My girlfriends and I would agree a bigger coffee is better than a teeny tiny cup of espresso… I mean did someone invite Barbie?! #dontmakemekillyou

Bigger is certainly better when you are on your free-eating day and you order cake. Sorry I said I wanted cake, as in a whole cake not a lady sized slice! #mmmmcake

Bigger is better when you are signing up for the internet – coz seriously being slowed to dial up speed is up there with the old telephone rotary dials #dialupisso90s

Bigger is better when you need space to be alone #ahhhh #air

Bigger is better when you open your parachute after jumping out of a perfectly good plane because those small emergency fuckers can’t be good for much. #saynotosmallfuckers

Bigger is better for carting shit across the seas and by shit I mean my online shopping. Imagine not having those big cargo ships?! It would take a decade for me to swim over and get them and then it would have been in and out of fashion twice already! #onlineshoppinggonebad

A bigger table is better for sharing stories at. A bigger car is better for my monstrous family. A bigger bag is great for all the crap I have to carry and a bigger slice of pepperoni pizza when you can only have one is, well, it’s a fucking free-food-day god send!

A bigger day time nap for my three year means a better quality of life – quality for me and life for him. A bigger hug from friends when you’re down is better than the kind of hug hugaphobic people give you… You know the ones? When that hugaphobe barely embraces you just in case your love is infectious… a slight tilt forward and slap on the back is all you get. #imnotchokingfucktard #hugsaregood

And bigger is better when we are talking all that lovey dovey and mushy stuff. The bigger the love, the bigger the heart then the better all our lives will be. #someonegetmeabucket #butimeanit

#biggerisbetter

One love

DRK xxx

How Not to be the ADULT Mean Girls Prey

Yes they actually exist in 2016! Believe it or not.

Truth be told I thought they had been eradicated in high school like most of the other self obsessed childish behaviour and small pox.

But I’m lucky. Or naive. One of the two.

I’m lucky because I am surrounded by beautiful, loving, caring women in my life. Apart from the occasionally mean girl here and there that pop up in my life most of the time I am not involved with people like that. Yeah sure I am fully aware of the sniggers some girls make at the gym while being all sweet to my face. I’m aware of the fake “Hi!!! You look sooooo good!” from ‘friends’ I bump into in the the street only to catch them wide eyed talking to their friends behind my back about how big I’ve got.

I am aware. But do I care?

Once upon a time I would have. It would have caused me huge anxiety and brought up all the old insecurities of not being good enough, pretty enough, slim enough. Now? I really don’t care. I don’t care because I will not donate my time concerned about another persons physical interpretation of my body. Of the way I look. Of what I wear. How I wear it. I will, however, care if my personality, my realness is called into dispute. I will care if they question my intentions or my honesty because they are the things that matter to me.

I am not interested in the falsities that come with being a mean girl. I find it pitiful that someone can live in a world so full of themselves nobody else gets a look in… It must be exhausting! It’s so sad that these mean girls have to continually pretend and promote how wonderful their lives/husbands/bank balances/children/holidays/arses are to validate their existence. Facades are deceptive outward appearances – that is the dictionary definition. Facades don’t advertise that their husbands are cheating on them, they’re up to their eyeballs in debt to maintain appearances and that their children are entitled unnurtured little shits. Which is fine. That is their business, it doesn’t need to be broadcast for the whole world to see but surely they have a heart full of pain worth more than any disguise they wear.

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If you are surrounded by mean girls you need to remove yourself from their super evil manicured grasp and this is how…

Nine tips to not be the mean girls prey

  1. Be confident! In yourself!  “Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You.” Dr Suess was right! Be yourself and be proud of that because there is nobody in the world who is like you. Confidence and a smile, it goes a long way when dealing with bitches.
  2. Be grateful! In your real girlfriends. Those ones who love you in your $2 op shop trackies, tear stained sleep in your eyes and with a bat in the cave. Love them. Appreciate them and mend any bridges that your premenstrual psycho tried to burn down during a I-don’t-deserve-awesome-friends moment. If you don’t have these kinds of friends then find some, ASAP! You’ll find them in aisle 4 at the supermarket, you’ll find them at the school cross walk picking up their kids; you’ll find them under a rock if you are ready to be loved and treated right.
  3. Stand up for yourself! How? By standing. Up! Do not let self endorsed pedestals that mean girls put themselves on make you believe for a second that they actually exist. Nobody… NOBODY is better than you regardless of money, lifestyle or social popularity. There are no pedestals that give anyone else the right to treat you like shit or make you bow down to theirs. Stand the fuck up girl you weren’t made to kneel before anybody!
  4. Own your bit! Yes! Sorry but we all play our own part in the mean girl game. Are you seeking validation from her? Why? Be honest. Have a look around you and see all the people who love your contribution to the world. Validate yourself. Are you playing the victim? If you are and continue to do so you are an easy target and mean girls like it easy. So don’t be easy. Life can be a game and sometimes it gets rough but let me forewarn you there isn’t a referee. Nobody is going to call foul play for you because you put yourself in the game and the only way out of this chicks grasp is by changing your position. Change your position!
  5. Find a way to cope! Start writing. Deep breathe. Laugh til you pee yourself. Namaste motherfucker. Whatever you need to do to cope with the stress then do it. You deserve respect but it has got to start with you. Respect yourself and give yourself the time and space to breath.
  6. Be direct! And when that doesn’t work smile and walk away. Remove yourself from her mean girl embrace. Say it like it is and never apologise for standing up for yourself because when you speak your truth you will always be genuine. They won’t get it but that’s not your problem.
  7. It’s their shit! It really is. Mean girls were either brought up this way, grew to be this way or are stuck trying to be this way. They have their own first world problems which make them the way they are and they are their own worst enemies. You cannot save them and you cannot change them. That journey is up to them.
  8. Let go! Let go of the control. You cannot control what another person thinks about you. You cannot even control what they say about you. Head held high you know who the fuck you are let them waste their 20,000 words a day of hollow gossipy bullshit. You know the truth.
  9. Start! Like right now. Start to change the way this unfolds for you. Become aware of  when it is happening and when you are in that situation with those sorts of people. Become aware and start at number 1. Small changes. Small movements. Each time you will feel stronger. Braver. More confident. You will get there.

It sounds simple enough and I know that it’s not. But don’t kid yourself you can and you will wake up one day like me and not care. You will find it laughable. You will even feel empathy for them. But you will not care to be their puppet, their toy thing, anymore.

You got this. I believe in you.

One love

DRK xxx

FOMO is Killing Our Kids

I wish, god I wish, that I wasn’t parenting in the age of the online era. This shit is out of control and if you think it isn’t you are blind to the damage this is causing. We hate to see our kids missing out and we don’t want to isolate them from their peers but why has this “missing out” become about unrealistic “things” and by unrealistic I mean unreal, not real, made up, created, manufactured, pretend. But not in a healthy pretend play kind of way. This is a messy screwed up virtual world that I’m talking about.

FOMO by simplified definition: Fear Of  Missing Out

There are some kids who have access to smartphones, iPads, laptops, social media, internet (or as us realistic parents call it – PORN) as often as they like. That is frightening.  Truly fucking frightening. I know all kids are different and some can be completely trusted? Ok partially trusted? NO! Fuck that! They are kids! Kids are curious by nature. They are going to explore the online world and if you totally leave that exploration up to them they will find their way to things their young minds cannot process. So there is no trust! But it’s not even about trust. You are the parent – so monitor, assess, be vigilant and PARENT!

We have the right as adults, parenting adults, to join forces together and stop saying yes to every damn request our kids ask for! Start looking at the bigger picture, clear those rose coloured glasses and finally “adult” by using the N-word… NO. NO you can’t have a smartphone. NO you don’t need Snapchat. NO you cannot sit in your room with the door closed on your laptop. NO you cannot sleep with your device in your room. Be the bigger person – aka the ADULT!

This virtual world they live in is going to have huge future consequences to their lives. We know this already as cyber bullying, sexting and teen suicides have increased exponentially. It is children exposing children. This virtual world is addictive, we know that because we as adults are addicted to it! They are exposed way too young to understand how it affects their sleep, their thoughts, their reality, their mental health. It is a virtual world. It is not real. None of it.

We need to start encouraging our kids to pick up the phone and call their mates, hear their voice, understand their reactions. Encourage our kids friends to come hang at your house, kick the footy, go for a bike ride, build a cubby house. Encourage our kids to get outside, to get amongst it, in the real world, the fresh air, hang with the real people with real thoughts and feelings. Real smiles, real tears, no emoticons or abbreviated words they had to google initially to know what they meant.

Technology has its place but there is no place more important than the well being of our children. Stand up. Take notice. Our kids are the future.

One love

DRK xxx

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Living With Regrets

We’re not supposed to have regrets or at least we shouldn’t admit to having them. “No regrets” is the life motto of so many and it’s honourable. Admirable. Dare I say it – inspirational?! But I’m all about being different and real so let me do those two things for you for a second here…

Do I have regrets?

Hell to the yes I fucking do!

I regret wasting 20 years of my life hating my body. Not swimming because of my body. Missing good times and parties because of my body. Not allowing myself to talk to that super funny chick and making a new friend because of my body. My hideous, unlikable body – I regret feeling that way about myself for so long.

I regret not being a better sister. I really fucking do. My brother was dying and I was thinking of myself, constantly. I really regret that selfish phase of my life and I’m sure he is ok up there with it all but I missed out on more memories because of my selfishness. And there I go being selfish again – but that I don’t regret.

I totally really regret sleeping with so many boys as a youngster. Yes, I would call myself a slut – but hey had I been a boy I would have been a total stud. I regret it because they mostly treated me like shit and I regret so badly that I didn’t stand up to them and tell them not to treat a desperate, low self-esteemed girl like that. Warn them that one day they would have daughters of their own and most of them do which makes me laugh like a super-villian-evil-bitch. I would warn them that it would kill them to see their insecure child being treated like a piece of meat. I regret not mastering that super-attitude-finger-waving-head-tilting thing that women do. I regret not having enough self worth to treat myself better and to tell those boys to go fuck themselves. I don’t look back at those times and think to myself “Yeah, that sure was fun!” Honestly I cringe and I think how desperate and ugly I felt back then – it wasn’t fun at all.

I have spent twenty plus years, regretfully wasting my precious life on being something or someone that I thought would please others yet I hated everything about the wannabe that was me. Always seeking external gratification, external recognition, external la-di-fucking-da’s. I wish I had been taught at a much younger age that all of those things were inside me all along.

Over those two decades I’ve shed a few of the try-hard-qualities as I have grown, lived and learned (eventually) but it’s been the last three years where I’ve picked up the speed on that shedding and all those things I thought I had to be or couldn’t be no longer exist or matter as of today in my dirty thirties. It is liberating and soul freeing. I’ve un-become so I can be exactly who I am. And my regrets aren’t filled with anger or sadness they are simply regrets. Which is my point. That it is ok to have regrets. The point is not to dwell on them. The point is to learn from them and the most monumental point is to embrace them as part of your life story. I wouldn’t have, be or understand life as I do now if I didn’t do all those shitty things I regret.

What’s most important of all is that you stop being somebody else and be yourself instead! Become you because you are living a life nobody else can. You are in control and all the choices are yours for your present and future. Sometimes the past sucks big hairy sweaty balls and those things sure do taste like shit but RIGHT NOW you are in a completely different moment and you get to CHOOSE whatever it is you want. Happiness. Gratitude. Weirdness. Whatever. Open those big fucking eyes of yours and look in that mirror. You don’t have to make love to yourself to love yourself but you can if you want. You don’t have to tell the whole world how a-fucking-mazing you are. You don’t have to do a single damn thing to live with your regrets. You just live. You just choose to live as you. Which is not always easy but shake off the shit you’ve pretended to be for so long and just be you.

Now go. Go and live in the present moment, which will soon be your past, and live it as YOU. Because, trust me, when you actually make decisions in life based on being you they can’t become regrets. They are instead whoopsies. When you make moves in life, as you, and you are being real and honest with yourself any fuck-ups simply become good memories… Eventually … One day … And you will laugh about them because you will know you were just being yourself. Your adorable, imperfect self.

One love

DRK xxx