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.

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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.

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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

Wednesday Is Love Day (totally WILD!)

As a mother of five you would expect me to be a pro at Mothers Groups! You would think that being a mother to at least one toddler at a time for the past 17 years would actually make me the Mothers Group CEO – fucking worldwide – by now!

But truth be told I have never been to a Mothers group….

Well actually, thats a lie.

I did go once but there were women and children all over the place!

There were Mums outside bitching about the Mums inside, there were kids, like, everywhere, climbing shit, hitting shit, snotting snot shit all over the place. There was whinging about who hadn’t made morning tea or brought the milk for the past 4 weeks and there was instant fucking coffee. I’d rather drink the piss the crazy little two year old just did at my feet than drink instant coffee. Yes I am a coffee snob! I believe if I am going to increase my heart rate, make myself feel like I’ve just popped an ecstasy pill and can conquer the world (or just my ironing pile) then I am damn well going to make sure that coffee is barista brewed. Barista coffee is heaven scent, it’s an art form, it’s sex in a cup – orgasm and all! Instant coffee rips you off. There’s no build up, no effort, there’s no love or post-coital cuddles. The only thing instant coffee is good for is pouring over vomit. True story! It absorbs the vomit smell and dehydrates it so you can just sweep it up – I’m assuming that will take days of drying though!

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Back to my one and only visit to a Mothers Groups … There was so much competitiveness – whose kid was doing what, who had the worst/best experience of someone else’s experience and just a whole lot of not listening to each other or pretending life and everything in it was awesome, including perfect husbands which we all know is bullshit. There is no such thing as a perfect husband (or wife), god bless them. Oh and did I mention there were a billion fucking kids! I know there would be nice Mothers Groups out there. I know I could have just got them on a bad day. I know that some of those chicks are actually really nice chicks and I fucking like them a lot! But it was just too much for me! Too much of a commitment, too much hard work, too much involvement of doing and remembering stuff.

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Then one day something fucking magical happened and it was something that really just unfolded on its own.

There was no forcing, no pressure, no strategy.

We created a Love Day – that day in the week we all look forward too, sometimes even need to fast forward to and quite simply LOVE. Wednesday is Love Day (WILD).

WILD is for women only. Kids can come, simply because they have to, but they have to go and play – like by themselves or with each other – you know like we had to do when we were kids. WILD started with like minded women who also happened to be my long term friends. We hang out, we force the children to move more than 50cm from our physical bodies (except for my two year old who is taking longer to detach his cute little toosh from my lap than the others – yay go Diesel!) and we fucken talk. Laugh. Vent. Cry. Counsel. We bake if we want too – which is never in my case – we cut up fruit if we can be arsed but we always, always have coffee – unless someone is detoxing or suffering from morning sickness then there’s a shitload of awesome Clean Tea in mismatched tea cups being poured!

It started innocently enough on any day of the business week that we were free. Then it moved to Wednesdays, permanently. We all agree this is the day we look forward to the most in the week. It’s our respite. There is just the four of us, normally, but it doesn’t mean others aren’t welcome. It’s cheaper than therapy and better than valium. Now we meet every Wednesday, occasionally on a Friday too and any other day in between that two of us are free at any one time.

We never have nothing to talk about. There are never any rules or restrictions. It is a love affair to rival the greatest love affairs of all time. We are all different yet we are all the same and we complement each other in ways that are really quite comforting and easy. There is no ‘trying’, no being careful with what you have to say, there are no wardrobe meltdowns because I feel that I have to compete with their gorgeousness – and that they totally are! There is also never any comparison of kids, their behaviours or abilities. In fact, we hardly remember we have them when we are together.

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So I’ve decided Mothers Groups are not for me. They are too big, too impersonal, too focused on children and being a mother. WILD is the calm in the storm for me. It’s the normal in my crazy. It is my little life reprieve where I get to breath, feel like a woman and not just a mother. Wednesdays make me dust off my knees, refocus, refuel and regroup before the love/hate onslaught of motherhood continues. WILD makes me a better mother, a happier person and keeps me firmly and calmly seated in the roller coaster of life.

One Love

DRK xxx

Me and my WILD girls….. At other events not at WILD specifically!


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

Rewriting Your Story

I’ve been talking to a “professional” lately and in the two hours I have spent with her (yes just two hours) I have connected more dots in my lifes’ story and crazy life cycles than I have ever connected before and now things are actually making sense. My vision is clear and now that I have the ability to step outside and look in from a very different viewpoint I can accept things for what they truly are. This different viewpoint changes “my story” completely. Things that I thought mattered, things that I thought defined me are well … different, they still matter somewhat, they have still shaped me but the depth in which they is no longer plausible.

Granted parts of my past have been less than ideal, yours may have too, and it’s true a lot of that shittiness was because of the choices I made as an immature child. An immature child craving attention. But I’ve realised there were a few traumatic things that were not entirely my choice. Those situations were not a choice made by a mature woman but of a 14 year old child. Never-the-less I have repented for 20+ years. I have spent this massive portion of my life feeling guilty, bad, not good enough and ashamed of myself. Embarrassed and unable to move forward in my life out of fear for the repercussions of my past. Fearing that my choices would come back to haunt me in my future. I now know that I have hindered my future by living in the shadow of my past. My fears have stopped me from truly being in the present – often or ever! My fears have also lead me to be in situations and with people who reflect these negative feelings about myself.

These people talk over me, interrupt me and are hardly ever really there with me. It’s like I’m not even talking sometimes. Sometimes it seems as if they are sitting in an empty room and not in a chair right beside me. They have their own opinions and mine, if different, are shut down time and time again, completely invalid and unimportant. They can give advice but can’t take it and I continually have to pat their ego. But I’m done stroking it.


Today I felt different. Today I had a voice. I had broad and strong shoulders, my head was held high and I nodded to the world that yes indeed I was ready to move forward with my life. I am ready to surround myself in real joy and faith. Faith in myself. Faith in my actual creative talents. I’m ready to support my personal desires for the future and more importantly actually be in the present moments which ultimately leads to my inner happiness and calm. Yay! Calm sounds awesome!! I am not afraid to release my “real self” for the world to see. I’m not afraid of what they may think of me. I am a good person. I know that now.


I am not who I was when I was 14 (15, 16,  and so on and so forth). I am not that young girl out there making mistakes, hurting those around her, in particular her parents, the people who brought her into this world. I am not the terrible sister of a dying boy. I am not an ugly freckled face girl who had a crush on someone who thought they were better than her. I am not the single mother of three divorcee, the failure, the family embarrassment. I am not the friend who will continually try hard for your friendship/love/attention. I am walking away with my head held high, almost guilt free, leaving the past in the past.


I have spent years/decades, suffering for my “sins” but before my life is over, before my opportunity passes I am sticking my middle finger up (as I may often do in times like these) and I am saying: “Fuck you fear, regrets and guilt”, “YOU are all holding me back and I choose to move forward like a true champion. One motherfucking step at a time!” I choose to keep these wheels rolling and to keep moving forward. To keep my smile glistening while my head is held high. I choose to heal, forgive and do better.

We all get that choice.

Every day is a new beginning. Tell those “passengers” in your brain to politely shut the fuck up. You don’t need them to bring you down telling you how useless/unloved/terrible/fat/ugly you are. Who are they and what right do they have to define you? You have a choice to quieten them. Not by talking over them or by enrolling in an argument with them, not even by performing a magic vanishing trick on them. You need to begin the quietening simply by ignoring them. By making a conscious choice to keep moving forward regardless of how much they heckle you. The more steps you take, the more positive moves you make the closer you will get to a smooth and quiet ride. And don’t we all deserve that?

One love

DRK xxx

Time Traveller

Today I received a message from myself. A message from the 26th April 2013 version of me. It popped up on my iPhone. It popped up on my Mac. I sent myself a clear message – clear to me because I knew exactly what I had intended for it to mean on it’s arrival today. It was designed in 2013 to activate me today in 2015. It said ….

“Today it clicked”

What the??? Seriously! On this day 2 years ago I decided to set up a calendar event to remind me, convince me that all it takes is one click. One click and whola you are thin. You are successful. You have time and money up your sleeves. One click and you are magically happy, your house is clean and your kids listen to you. Lets be honest though – in all its simplicity that click was really directed at my weight.

What was I doing two years ago that made me come up with this marvellous idea? At what point did I actually think a message from my past self would actually work? My future self maybe but my past self really?? It does, however, show me that two years ago and today are just the same because I’m still as focused now as I was then on the same stuff. What is that quote about insanity …”The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.” The simple fact is that I am not willing to work for it. Any of it. I’m lazy.

  

What clicked today was my guilt. Which clicks a lot. Guilt that I didn’t get my kids out of bed to go to the ANZAC dawn service yesterday morning because I was worried my youngest would cause a scene when there was supposed to be silence. Guilty because I sat on the couch for most of the morning, eating on and off but mainly on. Guilty because I saw a person who makes me hate myself and so I came home and ate chocolate. Guilty because I am sitting here typing rather than snuggling with my baby on the couch – but I think the couch has had enough of me today. Guilt because I am still the same as I was in 2013 and even earlier, much earlier than that. Guilt because I sit here whinging when so many others have it worse.

  

Today it clicked just how much I beat myself up still after all this time. Beat myself up because I live in my head – yes we’ve have had this discussion recently! Today it clicked that maybe I don’t really want to change if I haven’t already. Or maybe what’s holding me back is stronger than the result I am chasing or I’m allowing that to be the truth. Like captive Elephants who, from an early age, have a single rope strapped to their ankle. Then as they grow into over a 3000kg creature they still believe that this single rope can hold them back. With the largest brain of any land animal elephants are conditioned to believe this to be true yet they have the capacity, the strength and the brain power to move forward! They just believe they can’t.

 

Why do I live like this. Chained up to beliefs that hold me back. I want to be free!

  

So today I did what any smart land animal would do – I deleted my click. I deleted that fucker right off my calendar of events. This isn’t a magic show. It’s fucken life. I am not David Copperfield and that “magic” is all about illusion anyway! I’m still working on this…. This is far from over!

One love

DRK xxx

Master of Exercise – Master of Health – True Story!

My health is important to me. It used to be (used to be as in a couple of weeks ago) just about my weight – that illusive number – but due to lots of recent (like really recent) awakenings I now know I want to feel healthy coz, quite simply, I can’t feel 60kg … That’s just a number it isn’t a describing word, or as those smart people say, an adjective. You cannot “feel” 60kg unless you have really, really big giant hands and you are cradling 6 x 1kg bags of loose potatoes. So in keeping with this feeling healthy (which really is something you can feel) I’ve upped the exercise in the last three weeks, not to punish myself like in previous lives but because I actually enjoy (yeah I said it) the way the end result makes me feel – there’s that feel word again, ah think I’m going to vomit! So, yeah, a few weeks of health awareness means I am definitely now your Guru! Read on and you’ll see why!

No approval neededUpping exercise started with walking every morning with my Mum and pushing my 2 year old in the pram. We initially started with 3kms around the blocks which are pretty flat surfaces, then we have upped it to 4kms using big hills as the non-toxic heart starters. Doing it every morning means my day starts out right (I can’t speak for my Mum but she does come along willingly, I promise) and as a bonus it gets the noisy early riser out of the house before he wakes everyone else up!

One day I was not feeling completely satisfied with my morning walk so I decided to add some treadmill action in at lunchtime.  I started with a walk/jog and then days in I pushed it to interval training of walking at a steep incline and jogging/sprinting on the flats. Once I had managed to conquer 5km with some left in my tank I decided to push it further again by adding 25 push ups, 20 tricep dips and a yoga(ish) style cool down and a blessed thanking to the universe to end my sessions.

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Yep, I’m hardly graceful or flexible but I give it a go!

So I’m thinking, “Awesome, I got this fitness shit nailed!” and decided to push myself to the next level. I’ve been a fitness head before so I was feeling like this was me making my big fit chic comeback…

Now if you are a friend or a follower of my blog you know that I have certain weight and body issues which means I own every fitness, health and food app you can ever think of to further confuse and frustrate me. There’s this one app in particular that I knew I had to give a red hot go, possibly because I had already given it a super review just to convince the world that I do indeed use these apps… The phone app in question? PT in My Pocket. Which is as it says … A Personal Trainer in your pocket or palm of you hand or in my case placed precariously on the edge of my bed end. I picked a 10 minute session with the best intentions of doing it twice maybe even three times if I was still feeling it. And I did it. I finished it….. Once. Then I spent the next 1.5hrs dry retching, shaking like a leaf and unable to sleep – yeah I thought it was a good idea to do it at 9 o’clock at night, I’m not just a pretty face right, I’m smart too!

Days later I am still reeling from this bitch called PT in My Pocket. I have throbbing pains in places that shouldn’t throb unless you’ve had a wild fifty shades of grey night ….. with your entire neighbourhood! And there are more aches than the osteoarthritis clinic waiting room on pension day. These are not the good aches and pains of oh-shit-I-cant-sit-down-coz-my-muscles-are-so-freaking-awesome type but more like the uh-oh-I-think-you’re-getting-a-bit-too-ambitious-and-old-to-be-a-try-hard-hardcore-fit-chic-oh-shit-was-that-a-tendon pain.

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I’m hurting. So is my pride. Where has my awesomeness gone? Where has my 45 minute training without vomiting gone? 10 minutes! Seriously?! Now I have to wait until the bursitis in my knee settles down AND I have pay for a physio appointment to help get me back into … well into some type of normal human like stance AND I have to remember to keep my mouth from opening up and whining otherwise my husbands ears might bleed….

There is so much to be grateful for … Must. Stop. Whining!

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Soooooooooo tell me about your awesome workouts? Who ACTUALLY nailed it today … Go on inspire me….. PLEEEAASSSEE!

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!