10 Cheeky Comebacks For When Someone Asks If You’re Pregnant BUT You’re not!

In the light of recent pregnancy comments about Princess Zara I was reminded of a lifetime of my own. As a mere ‘normal’ mortal, though, I am lucky not to have had my “is-she?-isn’t-she?” splashed across the internet and news feeds but I do wonder why there is this obsession with the woman body. I believe just like being “on a period” you should never ask a woman if she is pregnant. You should never ask when she is due and definitely never EVER have an opinion on her “baby” weight! We are women and weight is a very sensitive subject. It’s not hard though. Just keep your mouth shut.

Preggas

I’m generally two from left – except my boobs are bigger – unless it’s been a few days since visiting the toilet then I am definitely more a three or four.

If you, like me, have ever been asked these questions, if you have ever been in that mortifying and uncomfortable situation don’t hide yourself away. Don’t feel ashamed. Don’t visualise punching them in the face – and please don’t actually punch them in the face! Instead have a comeback. A fucking witty comeback topped up with good dose of sarcasm so people learn that it is NOT ok to assess a womans body or to make assumptions that we can’t simply be a little voluptuous or god-forbid bloated without having to be up-the-duff. Lets face it for those of us who can conceive it is an awkward situation and, at worst, it’s a throw-the-outfit-in-the-bin-and-never-wear-it-again embarrassment but for those who can’t have babies then it is just a heartbreaking moment in their life… A question they would give anything to answer “YES!” to …  A question and answer scenario they dream of, even when they are awake.

Lets raise the bar (or our eye level) and look at each other when talking together instead of analysing bumps and lumps. If you do feel the need to analyse bumps and lumps then do a breast check and by that I mean your own! Now doesn’t that seem much more important than insulting an unsuspecting and definitely not pregnant woman?!

OK so let’s talk about comebacks to particular questions. They must be delivered with shoulders back, head held high and a smirk on your face. No one needs to feel embarrassed in the skin they are in and typically, these questions come from people who mean well but lack any type of filter from brain to judgement to mouth.

Here we go………

Q1: How long have you got to go?

A: Well, I dropped a couple of laxatives a few of hours ago now so ummm any minute now I guess and then my five day old shit will be ready to explode!

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Q2: Wow you must be ready to pop – how long now? 

A: Oh no I’m not pregnant but hey looks like your arse is about to have twins – congrats!

Q3: Oh my god you’re pregnant… Congrats!

A: Yes but don’t tell my husband – it’s not his!

Q4: OMG so-and-so told me you were pregnant – congrats!!

A: Shit! Am I? I better lay off the tequila shots and cigars!

Q5: When’s this one due?

A: I was just about to ask you the same question!

Q6: OMG! Are you preggas?

A: No but the night is still young!

Q7: Look at that belly! How far along are you?

A: Well I’ve been brewing this massive fart all morning but unfortunately you’ll need more than gas to help that mouth of yours!

Q8: Are you up the duff?

A: No. My boobs are always this awesome!

Q9: Oooohhh (points to belly) what are you hoping for?

A: A puppy that can burp the alphabet

Q10: I can’t believe you’re pregnant again!

A: Actually I’m not. I have a condition called “Fuck-You” – Google it.

Pregnant

Only ever assume a women is pregnant if a) you have x-ray vision (which you should be careful with as it can be harmful to the baby) or b) you physically see that baby emerging from her body! Otherwise shove that foot firmly back into your mouth and never utter those words again to any woman ever?! Got it? Get it? Good!

Now some wise words from the always effervescent P!NK, the woman I adore and may even consider leaving my husband and children for….

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Ahhhhh god I love her……

One love,

DRK xxx

We burnt the bra and then introduced spandex! 

Women of the world lets talk about the revolution or perhaps the evolution of us Betty Beavers! Let’s discuss where we are at in this women’s lib business and no I’m not talking about growing the hairs on your legs or plaiting your underarm hair. I’m not even discussing whether to wear or not to wear a bra (but just so you know I wear a bra otherwise I’d have two sets of knees). Let’s instead discuss suffocation. Suffocation of the woman body….

I’m going to ask you this very important question. Think hard before you answer – if absolutely necessary……

Have you ever walked into a department store, (ok I know the answer to that is yes but it is also not the question) strolled past the male underwear section and seen any hint of spandex? Any form of shape wear? Have you ever seen racks and racks of suck-me-in options all with marketing on the front of beer bellied men transformed into flat 6 pack stomach gods? Have you?

Seriously, have you?!!

Who do we suffocate our bodies for? Who makes us feel like we have pour ourselves into this spandex shape wear or more realistically complete an ugly ballerina workout just to get into it in the first place. It is not for our husbands, ok initially maybe it was to attract a man but it’s all got to unravel at some point doesn’t it! So I ask the question more deeply this time… Who do we wear spandex for?? Isn’t the honest to goodness most truthful answer for other women?!

I know the many times I have worn suckerer-innerers has been on girls nights, double dates or to weddings. When it tragically and theatrically goes on my husband does his deadly here-she-goes-again eye roll and mumbles something about how fucken sexy I am right now – I totally detect some sarcasm in his voice! My reply “Honey get the surgical scissors out tonight I’m going to need them when I get home!” Which also usually means he’s not going to “get any” when I get home because my intestines are screaming foul play after being compressed for hours upon hours!

I have recently stopped suffocating myself but for years I wore compression garments all for the illusion of a flat stomach, shapely thighs and a dimple free arse that’s half the size… This is an illusion created for other women who are also creating the same illusion. Not all women participate in the smoothing effect but there’s quite a few of us if we are truly honest. Compression garments are never worn for my hubbie anymore coz I’m pretty sure, from memory, he’s seen me naked and vulnerable at the many stages of my female life including the ever invasive pregnancy testing, the many scratch and sniffs I subjected myself to (better known as stretch and sweeps) and, of course the super sexy ‘let’s push a watermelon sized human being out of a smaller sized penis hugging canal while trying not to shit on the table’ childbirth viewings.

I have owned, at some point or another, every type of suck-me-in’s too. The full length pants that lift and firm your arse, compress your thighs while also flattening your stomach. I have the knee and mid-thigh length versions of that too – in nude and black of course. I also have the knicker ones but my arse spills out the sides and that sorta shit is really too hot to handle. I’ve also had the singlets, the over boobs and under boobs ones. I’ve had the pants with caffeine infused into the material to help you lose weight while looking like you’d already lost weight! I had the matching top in that one too. While none of these versions have ever given me a completely seamless looking figure and it’s completely imfuckingpractical during sweaty Australian summers, it has been many times that I had wished for an ankle-to-breast-to-wrist compression garment …. But then I realised I’d be wearing a wetsuit – which in fact is perfect for the Australian summer.

So back to the initial question – do you see men wearing these garments to please other men? How utterly ridiculous! These are lucrative businesses run by other women who keep on making money from our own insecurities and our harsh judgments of other women’s bodies! We are participating in a ridiculous “perfection” culture where “just as you are” is never good enough. I bravely took me and my little donut belly out last night and she was free from any intestinal sufferance. She wiggled and jiggled when I walked and laughed. I occasionally hid her behind my bag or my hand or pressed her against the table or tucked her into my jeans which then gives you a camel toe let me give you the tip but we were free to breath, my intestines weren’t squooshed up and sitting in my throat (talk about bad breath!) and well it was kinda liberating. Scary but liberating. Another bonus I got to pee in 2 minutes! Yep in and out just like that! No ballerina dancing to get some unhygienic labia suffocating material over the bits of my body some entrepreneurial sells to the women world as unsightly!

What’s next ladies – shape wear for our daughters? Let’s hope not!

One love,

DRK xxx

Losing a Sh!t Load of Weight

I recently blogged about “passengers in the bus” or #voicesinmyhead that I have slowly but surely started to drown out. I got tired of hearing their daily hourly fat, ugly taunts and I finally got the courage up to just drive that bus, #myself, toward my destination warning those demons (or as I affectionately call them, fucktards) along the way that if they didn’t shut up they would be booted out at #itsnotmeitsdefinitelyyou and #hellwasbacktherefucktards. Surprisingly my firm tone of voice, my confidence in my decisions and my ability to ignore them most of all has actually started working. They have been relatively quieter lately and I can see my journey ahead, my headspace is becoming a lot more peaceful. A lot happier. A hell of a lot more satisfied with me, as I am, right now!

With those demons sitting a little quieter on the bus things have obviously changed for me. The major thing is my scales no longer dictate my day. They don’t tell me to be happy or sad. That I am a good or unworthy person and they certainly don’t say if I am a success or a failure in this world. I’ve also been given the freedom of food. I can now eat what I want, when I want and however much of it I want to eat without feeling guilty. Without beating myself up and claiming to the world what an awful person I must be. The emotionally painful connection I have with food has almost completely ceased and so instead of eating and eating and eating to feed my demons, to satisfy their negative judgements on me and to starve myself of acceptance and love I now eat when I’m hungry.

In the mornings I wake up starving and my belly grumbles louder than my head ever did. So I eat. My favourite for the past month has been honey on toast. Ok, more so, it’s butter on toast with a small drizzle of honey…. Ok, ok it is actually just butter with a small serve of toast and an even smaller drizzle of honey! But I eat it lovingly and I enjoy it deeply and I don’t feel bad about it … at all! The other night my husband took me out for dinner. It was a surprise dinner. An early birthday present. I ate three courses. Yes, an entree, a main AND sweets – unheard of normally in my world! I didn’t finish every bite but I ordered and I ate each course til I felt satisfied. My demons didn’t say a word. This is a huge deal for me! I eat salad, I eat rice, I eat lean protein, I eat pasta. I eat a balanced diet and I am not stick thin or at the gym working my arse off and I am totally ok with it because there is so much more to me than what size I am. There is so much I have to give to this world and it has nothing to do with the number on the scales, a long awaited/yearned for flat stomach, a bullet repellant arse or a body that other women are secretly jealous of. My calling is much deeper than that. My health starts with my mind.

I weighed myself the other day, for the first time in ages, this is also a huge deal for me – I was a ‘three times a day’ weigher once upon a very short time ago!! With all this eating and enjoying I have been doing I was surprised to see I haven’t put on any weight, in fact I’ve lost a couple of Kay Gees. But I really, honestly, don’t care because the greatest loss I have made is the huge weight, crazy huge burden that I have been carrying on my shoulders. The pressure. The judgement. The harsh critic. The meanness. The constant battery of thy mirror self. I don’t have to be perfect. I don’t have to look like the women in the magazines. I don’t have to look like my neighbour, my best friend, my frenemy. I can just be. I choose to just be. I choose to eat to survive. Eat to enjoy. Eat to live. I chose to wear what makes me happy. Wear my size, proudly, confidently, whatever size that is and you never know from one brand to the next! I can wear whatever I damn well please including a bathing suit when the sun starts shining warmth again. I can smile with happiness. Smile with confidence. Smile because I know who I am and I don’t have to struggle to be someone I’m not. My head sits high on my shoulders. My happy, smiley head.

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I now know that chasing the better version of yourself doesn’t always have to mean being buff, being skinny, being thinner than what you are. That’s a sales tool that is used in the fitness and health industry – and that’s ok. For some. Not for all of us. Being the better version of yourself is being happy with who you are … Right Now! Because every day that you are living and breathing is a bloody successful day! Every day you get to learn something new about yourself and your body. It’s functions, capabilities, it’s fucken awesomeness! Every day you can choose happiness and acceptance over those fucktardish demons. Body love, body acceptance, body embracing is a choice, every day, all day. This is the best version of yourself. Body hating, body judging, body shaming should be left on the bus, sitting quietly, in time out until they learn the value of love and acceptance.

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Now give your body a hug! It works hard to take you through each day – especially if you treat it as badly as I have treated mine over the last two decades! Speak kindly to yourself because you are listening!

One love

DRK xxx

Designated Ugly Fat Friend

Revelations are coming thick and fast lately. My latest? Well, it starts with a story – or a few moments that I’ve entwined to make up my “life story”…

When I was a teenager two of my friends were known to me and the school as the cool girls. Pretty, funny and full of charisma. If you couldn’t be them you wanted to be around them just so, perhaps, a little bit of pretty would rub off on me. We spent our high school years as friends and are still friends today, except now it is not based on coolness just comfort and love. Today I was hanging with one of them and we were talking about the new movie that is out called The DUFF. I haven’t seen it and haven’t heard anything about it so it was today that I learnt what DUFF stood for. Designated ugly fat friend. That was me! That is who I have always thought of myself as! No matter who I am with or where I am in my life. I look in the mirror and that is who I see, DUFF.

Part of my “life story” to confirm this was a night the three of us went out in the city, just 19 years old or so. I was a teen mum so I had already had a child and this was a little weekend getaway to the big smoke. My two gorgeous friends were childless, successful and still… well gorgeous, funny and charismatic. I didn’t have any nice clothes so my friend let me borrow a denim skirt and a blue and white floralish top (yes I remember exactly what I was wearing). I also remember I had trouble fitting into her clothes even though back then I was only a size 8. Once dressed we headed out. We were walking down the street moving towards a pub when ‘we’ were wolf whistled at by a group of men. They also made some comment to us and with my friends’ quick wit and confidence she replied “How does get fucked sound brother?” You could see their testicles ride up into their throats, they’d been put in their place! It was awesome. I remember thinking that if, on the odd chance I’d ever be clever enough for a quick witted comment like that I’d probably end up with my head punched in! You know how some people can just say shit and get away with it and some people just can’t? I am one of those people who can’t. It was the same in the classroom at school they could do or say anything and the teachers would just laugh along…. If the same things came out my mouth I would have been suspended for sure. I put this down to me being ugly and them pretty. Another additional affirmative part of my ‘story’.

Anyway … we go into this pub and we are not even there 5 minutes before they are both getting chatted up and they are blowing off the advances like smooth criminals. Then finally this guy comes up to me and I am thinking “Oh yay, I am worthy” until he opens his mouth and this comes out …. “So, you’re the ugly friend huh?

Open up the ground and swallow me now. I wanted to die. I was gobsmacked and worst of all I didn’t have a smart arse reply. I was so embarrassed that I didn’t even want to tell my friends thinking that maybe they would look at me and think “Fuck yeah, why do we even hang out with this fugly chick?” Luckily, they had substance no matter how ‘cool’ they were and they loved me and my ugly fat arse anyway. To this day I hate telling that story just in case people would then be embarrassed to hang out with me …. Lucky my blog isn’t highly trafficked!

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It was this one moment, this brief few seconds of my life, that firmly cemented my ugly belief into the deepest part of my core. From years of schooling where I’d like a boy, he’d be kind of interested or worse still dating me, then he’d meet my ‘gorgeous’ friends and I, then, became the dogs breakfast. Thinking about all of it now, I’m not gonna lie, it hurts a little, embrrasses me a lot. BUT it’s all my shit. I see other women getting around who are not typically attractive but yet have this confidence and think their shit doesn’t stink and you know what? It pays off!

But the real revelation came later today when my 17 year old daughter came up to me and told me about this new female in her life that was messaging her and being nice to her and asking her for advice. I was waiting for her to say something ‘gossipy’ or that this girl had suddenly turned on her but instead she came out with “Why would she?” and I was like “Why would she what?” – sincerely confused. Her question? Why would this chick who is gorgeous, ‘you know like model material and really cool,’ want to talk to her. Was there a hidden agenda? Did she really like her? Well, I am standing there with my hot iron in hand completely dumbfounded and looking at my daughter and thinking… “WTF! Since when are you not worthy enough to have someone pretty, in fact, anyone of any look or style, talk to you! You are gorgeous and ‘model material’ yourself!” Then it dawned on me, she is more like me then I’d ever dare admit. I have taught her to believe that. I have taught her to give and give and give and to always try to make other people happy. To buy people nice stuff, to put in all your best efforts because how could they ever like someone like me. Someone so ugly, so fat, so unattractive, so stupid and what’s the word for not funny? … I don’t even know but anyway just not funny.

I cannot believe it! What have I done?! My daughter, and I am not being biased, is gorgeous and beyond her external beauty is a young woman who is also smart, funny and kind. She is the whole package! Yet, my ugly beliefs that I have held onto since I was 6, starting a new school and a girl came up to me with a scrunched up face said accusingly “You’ve got freckles.” What I heard her say was “Damn bitch” (yes I know she was only 6) “you are ugggggglly!” From that moment on I was convinced of my ugliness, everything else from there on in just set it in stone. I’ve allowed my beliefs to transfer onto a young woman. A child. MY child! And what is comical now that I look back is that same child had freckles! Maybe, just maybe, she was stating the bleeding obvious not because she thought it was ugly but because she had found someone just like her! Doh!

Well, what the hell do you do with information like that? I now know that being a DUFF is really just a state of mind but where do I go from here? How do I change this awful belief? I’m honestly not sure but I am going to figure it out! Stay tuned!

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One love

DRK xxx

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Mud Thy Saviour

I signed up for a ‘weight loss‘ course quite a few months ago.

…………………………..*sigh* ………………………………

Don’t worry this is not another ‘I’m-not-eating-for-21-days-to-lose-10kg‘ post …

I promise!

My initial intention (as usual) was to lose a shitload of weight, get to that ‘perfect’ and ‘ideal’ number on those very judgemental scales, to, hopefully, eradicate all my mental issues surrounding my body and to, finally, transform myself to look like a completely different person coz quite simply I’m not good enough as is, right?! I was thinking possibly like Scarlett Johansen or skinnier to be more socially awesome? Ok how about Angelina – I’d fit in then, I’d be an inspiration right? Because dramatic weight losses and hard bodies are more inspirational than women who love their lives, their children and god forbid their curvy/skinny/slim/lumpy/whatever shaped bodies.

Since my sign up I’ve been surprised by what has really happened and it focuses around myself mentally more so then physically. If I could do a “Before & After” shot of my insides then apart from being a little grossed out you would be super impressed to see the massive changes I have made. The course set the wheels in motion by creating opportunities and opening doors that have significantly helped me to evolve into a better version of myself. Deep huh?! I feel it internally but trust me when I say it’s been slow going – think of like a turtle on tranquillisers kinda slow. Although I look pretty much the same on the outside I am a completely different version of myself on the inside and still changing.

The biggest catalyst for my internal modifications came just over halfway through this ‘mental weightloss’ course when I bravely signed up for something that I would never EVER have considered before. I signed up for a challenge called the Tough Mudder! Admist the *eye rolls* from my dear friends who have heard nothing more than this for the past 6+ months I am proud to shout it from the rooftops – the internet-blog-style-rooftop that is. Why? Because this stinky, muddy event has changed my life FOREVER! I have gone from someone who can’t even stand the idea of having a bath (yes, even with myself) for the fear of germs, contagious floaty things touching me or perhaps even a shark being unleashed through a hidden trap door (yes really) – TO NOW a full-blown dirty, sloppy, stinky mud loving chick ….. Ok I still have issues with baths and pools and water filled stuff.

They don’t call it Tough Mudder just for fun – that mud went into every crevice of my body, covered every inch of my exposed skin and stuck to every thread of the micro fibre technology Lorna Jane tights that I wore. Yes I am one of ‘those’ LJ girls and yes I wore my Lorna Jane in the mud and she still came out just as good as she went in! Yep, LJ and I crawled in that mud, jumped in that mud, hell we even swam-head-under in that mud. Why? Well, why the hell not?!!

My hubbie and I after completing the Tough Mudder Perth 2014 …..

What this mud did for me was more then just adding a natural, long lasting dynamic-lifter-type-odour to my body for a full few weeks and almost, yes only almost eradicated my fear of clean dirty bath water – it actually changed my thought processor. Yes MY negative, self-critical, self-loathing, I-can’t-do-it central core processor got an overhaul!! I know, it’s a big statement right?! Some people need years of counselling, very expensive personal power courses or a decapitation to break through mental issues and I am not taking away from those avenues I’ve taken up many of them myself – actually I really don’t advocate decapitation – BUT I went from a girl bordering on taking anti-depressants for severe anxiety, depression and feeling completely overwhelmed with too many kids and her all encompassing life, to a girl who says; “Ok bitch,” (yes this is me pep talking my negative side) “you did the Tough Mudder right?” Negative bitch answers “Yeah so what motherfucker?” – “Well, sweetie, if you can do a Tough Mudder with no training, no roids and weighing that weight you say that stops you from wearing or doing what you want, well you can do anything!! Now get your sorry arse up and start moving forward. One step at a time, that’s all it is!”

And thats exactly what I did throughout the whole Mudder obstacle course and I have been doing it ever since. Just one foot in front of the other, one step at a time and you know what? I’ve made progress! Real, fucking progress! There’s been no turning around to look at the past and all its sloppy stinkin’ mud just so I can feel bad and beat myself up. I am looking forward and am now being proactive – not in just one area of my life but in all of them! I am making changes, I am choosing to move ahead and along the way I am embracing who I am (thanks to Taryn Brumfitt’s Embrace book – #ihaveembraced)….

So what does this all mean? Well my first major change was hiring a sleep consultant! Yeah I did, I employed a damn good sleep angel who helped me to get my 20 month old (now 2 year old) to sleep through the night and sleep 2-3hrs during the day!  The 1.5 to 3hr blocks of sleep I was getting, I knew, was paramount to some of my mental health issues. I then started an online course to help me to manifest stuff (aka be positive) in a very exciting way – one that had results as soon as I started it.  I also changed simple things in my life like starting a gratitude journal, I now say ‘no’ more often then ‘yes’ to things that I really don’t want to do/have/eat, I also started saying ‘yes’ to things that I really did want but was to chicken to do before! I quit Facebook even though at first I thought FOMO might take me out. I stand up to people without fear of them not liking me (or divorcing me), I’ve taken more chances by putting myself out there in the big wide world (aka this blog) with far less fear of rejection and with not much concern about what others think about me, I retired my 10 year old business – for now but not forever – even though it is something I love and am passionate about the timing is not right at the moment and for me, well, all of those things are MASSIVE changes!

So what looks on paper (your screen) to be rather lame, for me, in my life, is huge! It’s different for me, it’s progress, it’s something that makes me proud of myself. So sing it with me Superwomen – “What have you done today to make you feel proud?”

One Love

DRK xxx

Day Whatever – Embracing My Wagon

I am still off my wagon, not officially and not in a completely tragic, middle-finger-fucking way. I am just off the diet-I-was-doing wagon and I am instead walking alongside it, the wagon that is. I’m quite possibly tightroping cliffside but so far I’m doing ok.

At this stage I have lost a total of 4.5kgs in 2 weeks with another 4-6kg to go. That’s if I am basing my life and my happiness on the number on the scales. With my little loss I am already feeling better, my thighs aren’t rubbing so harshly now, I’ve started running again (ok it’s still just a fast walk) and I am enjoying and feeling sustained eating healthy, small portions. So then how am I off the wagon you may be wondering? Well, I am not doing the exact specifics of the diet I am/was following. This means I haven’t lost weight in a few days but I am feeling ok about that at the moment because I am still being healthy.

The only thing I worry about is that I think this is a cycle for me and I’m trying really hard to remember for sure if it is. See, I think I start these strict diets and then as I am hurtling along, doing well, I decide to jump and run alongside it to see how well I can do on my own. Like a test. In the past, it hasn’t worked. In the past I have always failed, faltered and fallen over while trying to keep up with the wagon and its many awesome passengers. Sometimes I have actually hurtled over the edge and definitely with tragic circumstances!

But something IS different this time ……..

“What’s different Cristy?” – you ask frustratingly as you wipe my chin coz once again I am dribbling a little bit of shit….

Well yesterday something golden happened. Something I didn’t expect. It arrived via Australia Post and, with applause, earlier than expected! It was my golden ticket to the possible land of diet freedom in the form of a book! I could never have imagined that a book could bring me so much clarity. So much okness – yes I am making up words now to explain it’s magical qualities! This book had me laughing out loud, yes LOL’ing, while I sat in my car waiting for the kids after school. In fact, I peed myself laughing, really I did, and the book made me feel ok about that too – especially seeing as I was reading about the author shitting herself! Hey, ones or twos – I’m not judging!!

Are you dying to know what the hell I am talking about, which book comes with a golden ticket? Well, it’s a newly released book called ‘Embrace’. It’s written by Taryn Brumfitt who has started a world-wide movement to encourage women to accept their bodies while living a healthy, balanced life! And (so far) it’s fucking fantastic! Can I say that any louder? IT. IS. FUCKING. FANTASTIC! While reading the book not only did I relate strongly to Taryn and her stories but I also felt like she was my soul sister – and not in some hippy, tribal, drum-banging way. I mean that in the way that she swears a lot, she’s rich in her honesty, she’s blunt but with a lovely realness you just can’t fake! This woman is just like me! The only difference is that she loves and accepts her body.

She has been fit as shit and now as a ‘normal’ ‘healthy’ size 12 she is completely ok and completely happy with her beautiful, glorious, wonderful, womanly body! I WANT TO BE LIKE THAT TOO! I want to be ok! I want to embrace my figure and just be! BE healthy, BE happy, BE fulfilled. These things do not mean being a size X, Y, Z or weighing under X kg’s, having under 0% fucking body fat. It also doesn’t mean I need to exercise for hours every day to prove I am beautiful or socially accepted neither should it mean I have to suck back on my dry-retching from the green shit I try to swallow every morning *gag*gag*shudder*

Being healthy, from Taryn’s perspective, is about balance. It’s about acceptance. It is as much about mental health as it is about physical health and of course, emotional stability and spiritual fitness. And by spiritual fitness I mean putting life into perspective, being grateful for a body that is working, is willing and able to function because my body is the house to my soul.

Here’s my ‘click‘. It’s happening. And it’s not the type of click in which my middle finger on my right hand flips itself into an erect position in defiance and a demeaning ‘fuck you dieting’. It is simply a click of the pieces in my minds puzzle falling into place. Of understanding better, accepting more and embracing that which I am. It doesn’t mean I won’t continue losing weight because I KNOW with my continued healthy eating that I will indeed lose more. But it won’t be such a mental head fuck, I won’t be desperately ‘trying’. I will just be doing. Enjoying not punishing.

“My body is not an ornament. It is the vehicle to my dreams.” – Taryn Brumfitt

Ahhhh, exciting!

One love

DRKxxx

#Ihaveembraced

Check her out http://www.bodyimagemovement.com.au or better still buy the book yourself it’s gold!

Getting Naked

Every time I get naked and catch sight of myself in the mirror I am shocked! It’s like it is the first I have ever seen my post baby body and I’m instantly like “Omg who the fuck is that?” and then…  “Oh shit it’s me..” It’s not a complete repulsion but it kinda makes my eyes bleed a little.

First of all there is this fluoro, beacon light thing going on with most parts of my skin. These are the places where sunlight has never dare set foot. In fact I am so vivid white that I’m pretty certain if you turned off the light I would glow in the dark …. True story! Then there are those ‘tiger stripes’ that women talk about. It’s not that I am ashamed of them but I’m certainly not as proud of them as I could be and I really, really admire the superwomen who are proud of theirs! My stretch marks have faded over time but I still see them as irrepairable imperfections – wait a sec … who the hell has taken my perfection bat!?!

And then there is this belly button that I inherited from my Dad! It’s deep enough to plant a tree and then grow a bloody orchard! It emphasizes my little pot belly in a way that should be as illegal as a person who is blindfolded, drunk and operating a vehicle. And it is my belly that I am most self-conscious with … My dreaded jelly belly – the junks not in the trunk but under the hood… And it scares me sometimes because I wait for the “Omg when are you due?” question.  My only comeback is “Oh and your arse is having twins, congratulations!” – which is not so effective when they are 80… And a man.

So anyway, I was talking to my friend last night about plastic surgery. An idea I have been flirting with for sometime. I have always thought a bit of liposuction would be all that I would need to make me happy with my body but then after my jelly belly was gone what would be next? Wouldn’t I then want my boobies put back on my chest to keep my knees from banging into them? And how about shaving my nose down to a more petite size so my allergies are halved in springtime?

I wonder though who would I be doing it for? It definitely wouldn’t be for my husband because when he says he loves me just the way I am I actually believe him…. So then it must be for other men? No, it’s not coz I honestly only care about what my husband thinks of me. Well then it only leaves other Superwomen… And yes its probably very true that I would more than likely get surgery done to please my allies… Or to be like my allies… Or to even look better than my allies? It’s that competitiveness once again that I feel when other women look me up and down and then casually glance at themselves in the reflection of the shop window. If they smile once they’ve compared the both of us I know I have just made them feel better about the coffee – with full cream milk – they’ve just had.

ImageBut then I love talking about this to the real Superwoman in my life, my Mum, because she tells me how back in the 70’s none of these things were an issue. I love knowing that if I was born 30 years earlier then I was that I would have been living in that world, but I’d be without my Supermum! She always tells me that ‘back then’ women got together once or twice a week to play a game of tennis or badmington which would then be followed up at someone’s house with coffee (that instant stuff) and cakes, slices and biscuits. All homemade, all full of sugar, gluten, dairy, wheat…. Sometimes it feels like these are all taboo food nowadays! But the good ‘ole days! How awesome is that?! Even more awesome when she shares with me vital info that I never knew was possible – that being that they never ‘looked’ at each other the way we do. They never noticed if someone gained or lost weight let alone ever commented on it. Whereas now everything is weight related. From the skinny latte with no sugar you order at the counter to the gym junkies who count how many calories they have just burnt to the ‘Wow have you lost weight? You look great!” comments.

It’s on the cover of all the magazines…. One week it’s “Celebs Who Are Too Skinny” and then the next is “How to lose 5kg FAST”. I look at those ‘too skinny’ celebs and think yep, definitely too skinny but then the next week I’ve cut out that 3 page spread on how to lose 5kg fast so I can pretend to follow it just to wear a dress to a party without feeling like the elephant among the mice. And it’s a terrible cycle for me but I am far from having a eating disorder though I do believe there is another ‘new’ disorder evolving.

ImageOne thing I do know and it’s something I remind myself of daily is that when I am dead and buried I know for a fact that my headstone will not read “Died finally reaching her goal weight” yay for me! Or “Died just 2kg away from her idea of a perfect weight – what a total failure!!!” It’s ridiculous!

Happiness is a state of mind not a number on the scales! It’s time that we live our lives without repenting over the extra 200 calories we ate for dinner! We are the role models for our daughters who we will teach to either love themselves and life wholeheartedly or to continue the downward cycle of regarding external ‘beauty’, and the judgement of what society says that means, for the rest of their lifetimes!

ImageSo it starts with me… Today I am backing away from the scales, I’m giving my donut jelly belly a loving little squeeze and I’m getting on with living! Whose in?!

One Love

DRK xxx