Five Tips to Stop Over Eating and Start Losing Weight

If you’re anything like me, or the me of old but the not-so-old-me-that-I-don’t-remember me, you know what it’s like to obsess over food. Obsess over weight. Over calories. Over good food versus bad food. Over punishing yourself for wrong choices. As a compulsive dieter and emotional eater you’ll understand what it’s like to go all day eating “good” foods, sticking to the plan you stayed up til midnight devising and promising to yourself that THIS TIME you will stick to it and then all of a sudden your face down in a pool of curve embracing carbs and the only way out is to eat your way through it all. I’ve been there. Often. Not too long ago in fact. I’ve found myself time and time again resisting food for most of the day, eating healthy meals and snacks and then WHAM! 3pm hits and it’s like the fridge automatically opens itself up and empties its full contents into my mouth leaving only the well meaning carrot sticks and grapes behind.

Food has been constantly on my mind for, at least, the past decade. At least. I have had a war with food for a long time and it has been torture! And for those of you that get it you will get that after the binge comes the guilt. Then with the guilt comes the feelings of being a failure and so therefore the intake of more food before finally the promises that tomorrow will be different. It’s tough. It’s a daily, fucked up, tough cycle. Something only first worlders have to whinge about which then makes us feel even shitter about the fact our problem is that there is too much food and yet somewhere else in the world children are starving!

Some of us use food like a drug. We become addicted to the short term joy it brings us. It’s like a security blanket. It keeps you safe. It never lets you down. The food is always there for you. The hollow fullness is always there to comfort youBut it’s not really. I made this discovery recently. Although I can admit that I’ve really known it for a very long time. I’ve also known the reasons why I have spent way too long overeating which is, ironically, to feel small. To stay insignificant. Because being small and insignificant meant I was safe and hidden. That my low self worth and insipid guilt of my past actions couldn’t be seen. That because of these past actions I must remain with my head bowed in an apologetic stance for the rest of my life. Not worthy. A failure. A fat failure.

In my recent revelations I’ve learnt some new ways to move beyond my decade+ long food struggle. I’ve seen the light so-to-speak and my entire day is NOT filled with food thoughts. I eat when I’m hungry. I eat what I want. I am smiling. I am happy. I am still considered overweight and my outer body doesn’t yet reflect my inner body but I’ve let my security blanket go and I want you to join me in the revolution of being in control of food.

So without further adieu here are my five tips.

1. Quit dieting. 

For food obsessors dieting is like putting a lit ciggie in a smokers mouth and telling them not to suck it in. Right? It’s torture! Dieting instantly fills you with a mix of hopefulness and dread even more so if you’ve been dieting on and off for years. Dieting means restriction, not having what you like – or think you like. Dieting means failure. Failures mean bingeing. Bingeing means you are back where you started. Get off the cycle! Ditch the diet books, like, seriously, throw those fuckers out don’t even try to sell them on Facebook Buy & Sell – they are not worth a cent! Steer clear of gossip magazines with a bikini clad celeb on the cover and the headline “How she lost 15kg overnight”. And run the fuck away from googling anything keto/paleo/atkins/dukan/cabbage soup diet related and unfollow all those instagram feeds where the motto is “Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels”. None, and I will repeat this for you, NONE of these diets are helpful when you are obsessed with food, an emotional eater or compulsive dieter. I don’t say this to take away the hope for a slimmer you I tell you this because our “diet” begins in our minds and not with a restrictive food plan. So I am sorry but what works for your best mate, your father in law, your sisters-friends-mister isn’t the kind of diet you need. For most of us it’s a mind thing not a diet thing. Please remember that. 

2. Keep track. 

No not of your food! Keep track of your emotions. Your thoughts. When do you start obsessing? If you feel like it is all of the time, which was me, then think about when your food obsession is at its worst for you? Is it after dinner is finished? Is it after a session at the gym or is it, like me, the minute you get home from school pickup? We are a slave to our thoughts so recognising where they happen, when they are the strongest, what can set them off and what can ease them will really set a solid foundation of understanding your triggers. With understanding comes power and with power comes the confidence to move forward. We want to move forward because I sure as eggs don’t want to be an eighty year old woman still bitching and moaning about my weight. I want to fucken live a full and exciting life. Something I have been working on A LOT in the last 12 months and I have to say I like this moving forward trajectory thinga-me-bob.

live in the moment

3. Pull the Wonder Woman Pose. 

Yep it sounds silly and it’ll look silly too when you are standing all super powerfully in front of the fridge or in line at Maccas but guess what? It works. It is proven that standing in the Wonder Woman pose will give you more power and more confidence which then gives you the capability to make a better choice. Even if it’s assertiveness towards a kitchen appliance and all it’s contents or the pimply boy waiting to take your order. This power pose communicates not only to others but more importantly to yourself that you are serious and in control. You. Are. In. Control! Hold it for two minutes. Chest out, shoulders back, feet apart and fists on hips. Oh and remember to breath! You can also use a power pose while you are eating! Yes good posture will slow your eating. It’ll raise your awareness and it will make each mouthful mindful. Shoulders back. Head held high. Eat with purpose. Eat with control. Why? Because food does not control you. Wonder Woman is your girl! Channel her.

Wonder_Woman

4. Find your cheerleaders. 

Surround yourself with love and support. Find “your person”. Find your best supportive babe. That one person who will not judge you, the one who will stay neutral to how you are feeling now but will always offer encouragement for the steps ahead. Cheerleaders are the bomb. They get you. They also see you for who you truly are and they want you to love the absolute shit out of you as much as they do. It really is true. They can see all the good parts of you that you cannot see and they want you shine. So shine you fucking Goddess, SHINE!

Feel better

5. Enjoy food.

Don’t be scared of this one but learn to enjoy food again – for what it is. Food is fuel but food is also a part of daily life. We cannot just give it up, go cold turkey and wait for the shivers and shakes to stop. But food really needs to be put in its place and it is up to us to do it. See it for what it is. Tell yourself that because we are the lucky ones there will always be enough food. That chocolate will be there tomorrow and the next day and the next day. It doesn’t need to be hoed down in one go. It is not going anywhere. It will always be available. It is just chocolate. Don’t count calories. Don’t claim food as “good” or “bad” it’s just food. Once you tune into your body you will naturally gravitate to what makes you feel light and bright. It’ll take time but how long has it taken you to get to this point – with no success. 

Enjoy it all

What happens from here on in is a deeply personal transformation. Something that is not clearly visible to the eye but it is there. People will notice. The mental transformation, for us, is the most important stage. A body transformation cannot be sustained without a stable mental change. And let me tell you once your mental transformation begins the body transformation doesn’t have much significance anymore because you will learn along the way how amazing your body has been during the time of mental anguish you have just endured. You will recognise the strength your body has had to have over this time and how supportive it has been to you to keep getting up and trying again and again. Don’t blame your body. Thank it. What a gift you have been given. Now go. Go stand in that wonderful Wonder Woman pose. Because you, my friend, are not small and insignificant at all. You are purposeful and powerful.

Shine on Goddesses!

One love

DRK xx

Gender Weight Loss Wars

Seriously this subject is probably one of the most annoying things in my life besides my husbands loud chewing and the kids toe nail/boogie picking. Don’t get me wrong I’ve come a long way in my weight issues and nowadays I actually don’t care about “the number” and I don’t even hate my body anymore. In fact I totally accept it and most days I quite like it. Sure it’s not a Ferrari but it’s a pretty economical and reliable station wagon and for that I am grateful.

BUT…. But. But. But.

How is it that a man says “I’m going on a diet!” To then not only have his food served, his meals planned, his shopping done for him BUT he also only quits one or two things – like beer or Coke (and instead takes up Vodka and Red Creaming Soda), eats pretty much as he usually does after the healthy food thing wears off a few days in, then does a gigantic crap one morning and magically loses 6kg! Boom! Goal weight in well under a fortnight motherfucker!

Yet…

A woman says “I’m eating healthy and changing my lifestyle!” It is a serious declaration. She gives up coffee, she gives up wine, she gives up sugar and flour and starchy carbs. She takes up green drinks that taste like cold vegetable soup mixed with the grass out the back, in fact she increases her intake of everything remotely green grass looking. She limits her portion sizes at meal times using a side plate to trick her brain, she drinks 2lt of filtered water and exercises for a minimum of 30 minutes every day. She meditates and cleanses her soul, keeps a food journal and dedicates most of her day in the kitchen preparing and cleaning up healthy meals for her and her family. She has never been ‘healthier’ yet she is constipated for 6 out of 7 days and when she’s not in the kitchen prepping/cooking/cleaning she is on the toilet urinating like some kind of wee God. She resists the urge to weigh in because it is about a lifestyle choice and not a number but surely 18 days of pure good health will harbour some results that are worth seeing….

Am I right?

Arrrr.. Nup! A measly 300g gone! How can that be! Lucky for him that I feel good about myself anyway. I’m not hangry which means he gets to live and I am ok with not losing a single kilo which is good because otherwise I might just have to lace his food with laxatives BUT then he would gloat even more over the diarrhoea weight loss. He actually would.

So what the fuck is happening here?

Well this is what it FEELS like is happening…

The Man body says, “Lets not fuck around mate! We got a piss up next week and we ain’t telling the boys we can’t drink coz we are on a diet. So process every fat cell in sight at lightening speed and drop an ungodly 2kg log on day 6! Job done!” Cue the naked mirror happy helicopter dance and bicep pashing…

The Woman body says, “Huh? What? We are trying to lose weight? Oh I thought you said wait! Wait and hold on to every fat cell and digested green bit until it is safe to let it go… Let it go.. Let it goooo… Oh but I can’t. Yes you can! Let’s do this! This is your time! No.. No.. I’m not ready… Oh but you are… But what if we need to reserve our fat cells for possible starvation? What the fuck are you on about?” and on and so forth…

What is ACTUALLY happening…

Simply put men have more muscle than women and the more muscle you have the more fat you burn. Hence the reason they shed it quicker.

Men also have 10 times more testosterone than women which increases their metabolism at a rate of 5-10% faster than women.

Women have oestrogen – which helps with the obvious procreation thing – but this funny little word makes it harder for us to burn fat after a meal. Yes it makes us hold onto it! Which is great if we are in the dark ages and food is scarce then hell we are going to be ok.

Women also have more cravings – I don’t know why but the research says so. Research also says we are more likely to turn to emotional eating – yay for us!

And this all must be true because I Googled it! So blame the testosterone/oestrogen you don’t have/have. Men may have the weight loss edge over us but we can do so much more than they can – like get aroused without anyone noticing, have multiple orgasms, wear mens clothes without anyone raising an eyebrow, multi-task and (for some of us blessed ones) we can push a gigantic baby out of our vagina.

So fuck the testosterone and their fast weight loss. Feel good inside and outside because that is all that really matters!

One love

DRK xxx

boob-tribute

Ain’t this the truth!

fitness-dog

I had to share this one – too funny!

 

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 To Tell If You’re A ‘Nice Girl’ & How To Be A Queen Instead

I believe on a deep level that I am a genuine person and my intentions are good. I, like most other people, have had predominantly good intentions throughout my life – even as a rebellious shithead teen.

My daily intentions now are to be a patient, kind, nurturing mum, hey, I said intentions not real actual shit that happens. Intentions to be a hard worker, a financial wizard, stylish, successful (and by successful I mean just not a failure) and intentions to write a novel…

The good news with that is I’ve actually written 50 pages …

Bad news is there are 50 different novels in those pages – 1 page per novel – winning! Or. Not. Winning…

Confused

I’ve also had intentions to say sorry more, to love harder, to be a flawless daughter from hereon in, I repeat I was a shithead rebellious teen, and to stand up to others when things aren’t right.

Intentions3

My intentions recently have been super pure coz I am a super fucking sparkling woman after all. They have been genuine and they have been for the greater good. But my intentions have not matched the actual outcome. Someone forgot to tell Mr or Mrs fucking Universe that I was doing things for all the right reasons and to come to the party with his or her blessing. I’m not asking for accolades or for the Gods to come and sing my praises I just wanted things to go smoothly and not be fucked up the arse at every turn. Ouch!

I play life by the rules, I dot my “i’s”, I cross my “t’s”, I try not to step on anyone else toes in the effort of getting what I want and I always consider other peoples feelings before my own. This is somewhat like the “Nice Guy Syndrome”. NGS is where a guy is super nice to all potential future partners (aka every girl he meets) and so therefore no girl wants him even though she whinges about wanting to find a decent nice guy. Because I am not a guy and I am kind of sick of having syndromes I’ve come up with my own version of NGS… I call it – Nice Girl Soshitonme – [soshit-on-me] NGS. Same-same but different.

The “Nice Girl Soshitonme” has a few symptoms typical of this disease syndrome illness life choice. Symptoms are:

  • You are polite, like really polite and you won’t step on peoples toes to get what you want… ever.
  • You ensure a smile is plastered on your face no matter how pissed off you feel at someone and you say sorry far too often for all the little things – even when it was the small-man-syndrome dude who bumped his trolley into yours.
  • You prefer to sit on the fence about controversial subjects and you never willingly try to upset anyone and if you do, accidentally, you spend the next 100 years feeling guilty about it and trying to buy their forgiveness with cheap arse gifts coz you can’t afford the real and expensive stuff and…
  • You avoid confrontation with anyone and everything and you backdown at the cost to your soul, your withering defeated soul…

Any NGS with me?

Now let me explain a little thing called “Getting Screwed” and see if anything stands out to you:

  • People who get screwed (PWGS) are scared to ask for what they want, most would say they’re too polite
  • PWGS are nice. To everyone. Pretty much all the time. Even while being screwed.
  • PWGS keep themselves safe and secure and rarely step out of their comfort zone. They like to obsess over things that have gone wrong in the past when they have ventured out of their bubble. They are scared of change and how those changes will be accepted.
  • PWGS won’t fight. They won’t fight for what they believe, for what they want and will settle for life as a screw.

Bridesmaids

Anything standing out to you?! Any clear collisions? Well of course there is because I wrote this purposefully to be a complete collision course to get my message across! Why? Because I am a nice girl and I am not going to continue to be screwed over. I won’t sit on that pretty picket fence any longer I mean that shit isn’t comfy anyway there’s a full picket up my arse. I am not going to stand in the pouring rain any longer at the expense to my health and well being. I will no longer stop, drop and roll at any sign of confrontation because I do have my own valued beliefs and god damn it they need to be heard, listened to and put on the register of ‘don’t mess with this chick’. Yes that is a real register. Really. Ok .. so not actually real but let’s just go with it, ok?!

Are you a NGS? You sick of being one of those PWGS? Well, put those abbreviations aside and pull those awesome shoulders back girls. Dust off those dirty sucking-arse knees you have there and wipe that shit from your mouth. You were not put on this earth to please every tom, dick and harriet. You were put on this earth to shine like a diamond. We don’t need to cause chaos or become evil bitches we just need to stop allowing ourselves to be screwed – unless it’s going to end in an orgasm! We need to be real to ourselves. Stand up, be heard and believe. Believe in who you are. Believe in your importance on this soil. And damn girl believe in your ability to speak up!

You will never be able to please everyone and by pleasing all of them you are forgetting the most important person of all – yourself! Those dirty red knickers were born to ride high. That cape was designed to fly and by god that crown was created to sparkle. So sparkle you sensational, perfectly-imperfect queens! SPARKLE!

One love

DRK xx

intentions2

 

 

 

Change

Sometimes to move forward you need to change. Change things about yourself. To change the situation you are in or to make major life choices that are guaranteed to change your future.

Change is fucking scary. Yep, it really is. Change ignites fear from deep down within especially when change comes at the cost to your security blanket. Your comfort zone. Change makes your stomach churn, turns your fight or flight response on high and can give you some serious loose bowel movements … No? That’s just me? Oh, ok then.

Change makes you emotional. Angry. Impatient. Because with change comes new learning. A whole new way of having to think. Change puts you on a different level. Sometimes change makes you start again – at the beginning as a beginner.

Change makes you feel like you are standing out, centre stage and you are surrounded by people. People who are all on the outside facing you, watching you. It makes you feel vulnerable. Exposed. Weak even. But sometimes vulnerability is good. Don’t ever let anyone tell you that it is a sign of weakness. You are not defenceless. Vulnerability during changes means you are just asking to be seen and are open to making real connections. Vulnerability shows your authenticity – who you really are.

Change3

Change is sometimes, most times, if you let it, out of your control. This is a good thing because with change comes growth and with growth comes more life experience. And isn’t that what we are here for – life and experiences?!

Change can sometimes make or break you. But most of us make it. Change will quickly put things into perspective and you get a choice with change – you can let it make you a better person, parent, employee, boss OR you can let it turn you into a sour motherfucker. I’m digging the first choice, how about you?

Sometimes change wasn’t your choice and some prick has backed you into a corner and the only way out is through a secret door behind you that has a flashing sign saying “CHANGE”…. Ok, so if it’s flashing neon it’s probably not that secret. This door gives no clue as to where it is going to take you but you either suffocate in the corner or you take the risk. Here’s a hint: OPEN. THE. FUCKING. DOOR! Change is always risky and risks don’t always pay off but that’s the gamble in life. But life is a gamble anyway – every day.

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When going through the process of change it is so important to remember the positives. You are still moving – forward, backward, sideways – it doesn’t fucken matter which – if you are still moving you are still alive and that’s good, right?!

Accepting change is accepting your responsibility in the change. To some degree, even with a cactus involved, we all have a part to play. Accept it. Own it. Hug it and move the fuck on because holding on to resentment and anger keeps you stuffed in that little corner even if you exited through the not-so-secret door.

Change is something that brings you out. If teaches you more about yourself then you knew a few years earlier. It can feel like a tunnel and make every stress receptor activate on high alert. Change will make you anxious – whether you recognise it or not. The fear and the excitement go hand in hand because change is both fearful and exciting. We fear the unknown and we are excited about the possibilities.

Sometimes change will make you feel like you have fallen to your knees. BUT you have got to stand up. You have got this. You. Have. Got. This.

Change1

Change doesn’t define you. They way you deal with change does. Embrace it. Accept it. Grow from it. Don’t look at what you are giving up look instead at what you can gain from change. Oh and let the cactus go – they aren’t the kind of pricks we are into anyway!

One love,

DRK xxx

Change4

 

The Fat, Mean Mum

I woke up this morning and consciously decided to speak nicely to myself. You know, manifesting good things by thinking good things. Tapping into that kind and forgiving inner voice that I know is in there somewhere. Turning the volume of my Devil down and telling my Angel to speak up. Flipping the negative talk into positive language. Slapping the bitch in me to give the belle of the ball a second to stand up and curtsy… You get what I mean.

So I showered and let positivity rain down on me. Cleansing the negative thoughts away as well as showering to be all hygiene and shit – seems as though some people skipped that memo from The Universe. I let the water warm my body and my soul on the cold autumn morning but of course, I’m a mother so I’m doing the whole showering thing while parenting at the same time. I call it Shower-Parenting.

Shower-Parentingbetter known as yelling from the shower to a bunch of minors who know you’re not really going to get out of your nice warm shower to follow through with any of your threats so they continue to completely ignore you. Arseholes! Just wait til I’m outta here!

So I’m yelling and I’m showering and I’m washing negativity away. I know, I know I’ve totally got this shit sorted, huh? I’m just about done when my six-year-old son wanders into the bathroom because mothers, as we all know, never shower or shit in peace. He plonks himself on the toilet and begins his morning cleansing process. First, the passing of gas, then the smile and then me screeching “Are you doing a poo?!” To which he sleepily replies “Mm-hmm.” Affirmative confirmation. I try to stay in my positive state while the hot air and gases combine.

Eventually, I admit defeat with the hot stench being too much to bear. I drag myself out of the shower and begin the drying process. Continuing with the positivity I thank each body part as I go. I dry my legs and thank them for doing their job. Thank them for functioning properly. How lucky am I to have legs that work, I say to myself. I wipe my rounded tummy and my voluptuous hips and thank them for carrying five children into the world. I thank my gluteus maximus for all the jobs that it does which I don’t even know about. Then in between my positive self-talk and my six-year-olds stinking plops he sweetly says….

You’re fat Mum.”

It was matter of fact.

The truth.

A bomb.

Slightly harsh.

Maybe.

Maybe not.

Three words from a child who doesn’t have a filter but he doesn’t need one because he’s just calling a spade a spade.

I felt the need to clarify, or maybe for further punishment, his judgement so I asked, “What makes you say that?” While thinking, praying, it must have been the way I bent over? Maybe the angle I was standing at? It definitely wasn’t my outfit – well actually thinking about it now I guess it was because there’s nothing more honest than a birthday suit.

He looks me up and down confused by my confusion and reaffirms, “‘Cause you are. You’re just fat Mum.

Bam! Right next to my reflux pain I feel something … Oh, yep that would be my heart shattering into tiny pieces. 

I’m fat. 

My kid thinks I’m fat. 

He’s being honest not mean. He’s using a word I hate to hear as a description of how he sees my physical body. It’s a word he knows and understands that he can relate in describing me. Yes, I know I’ve put on weight and yes, I confidently tell everyone that I have while really hoping people don’t actually notice that it’s there and all the while praying to the Universe, God, the Weightloss Fairies that it will just disappear overnight. But it won’t because it’s not bloating or fluid retention or ‘just a good shit’ it is actual fat caused by over-eating.

Clever clothes may hide my rolls, I can paint my face pretty and I can do positive affirmations the fuck to death but underneath it all the Pope is still Catholic and I am still fat. It is what it is. I get to either be ok with it or do something about it. But first of all I’ll cry. That’ll help. Foetal position, on the floor and cry.

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Really?! Aww hell no! You ain’t gonna to let a little three letter word bring you to your knees?! Bitch really?!

While temporarily in the foetal position, memories from only a few days before of my teenager informing me that I’m known as the ‘mean mum’ to his mates came to mind. So with these flashbacks rolling and from the comfort of the floor I define myself as the fat, mean mum. Damn girl! You used to be the hot, fun mum. What the fuck happened to you?!

Seriously! What the fuck happened to me, my body, my care factor?! And more importantly, what am I going to do about it? I took myself off the rollercoaster – or so I’ve said. The cycle of diet-eat-starve-eat-diet-eat-starve-eat … Oh, fuck it you know what I mean. I’m out of that cycle, aren’t I? I’m happy with who I am? So why did those 3 little letters bring me to my knees?

In all honesty and with a little bit of dignity remaining I can say that I actually didn’t curl up in the foetal position. I just said that for the benefit of my internal breakdown. I didn’t even cry. Almost, but I didn’t. Why? Because of two things.

1) Fat doesn’t define me. I know that. I am not less of a person, mother, friend, stylist, lover, life-giver just because I carry 10kg more than I should and,

2) I do not want to teach my son that the word ‘fat’ is another f-word that he can’t say. You have fat and sometimes too much of it but you are not defined by fat and no this isn’t an excuse to be carrying extra fat either – maybe I will pull my finger out, maybe I won’t. It just doesn’t define the person I am – unless I let it.

b8e9d3875bd6239dafe0db0c08165db7I did give my six-year-old some life advice though about using that f -word because let’s be realistic, he is going to be somebody’s husband one day and I’d like my son to live beyond their first year of marriage. Honesty here can take a back seat. I really tried to make sure he didn’t feel bad about saying it but unfortunately either my face gave it away or he can read me well energetically because for the rest of the morning he was all like, “Hey Mum can you help me put the toothpaste on my brush because you’re so strong.” And “Can you help me put my shoes on because you’re so clever.” So he may see me as fat but he also sees me as strong and clever. I’m happy to take that on.

One love

DRK xxx

The Eight “Mistakes” Parents Make… Here’s a tip: there are no mistakes!

Just as teenagers awkwardly navigate through their pubescent lives so too will adults fumble through a time called parenthood. These so called adults going through parenthood will undoubtedly cross unpleasant times, have to frequently learn the same lessons time and time again and they will undeniably shed many tears from the injustice and confusion of this alien life that didn’t come with a satelittle navigation system.  It’s a tough journey on some rough terrain but some of us have to do it.

Parenting five times over certainly hasn’t made me an expert, in fact, it’s probably made me go backward more often than I have ever come forward. I can honestly say I’m still not even close to being an awesome parent and I don’t say this so my friends can tell me that I am. I’m here to blog not play that “I’m-just-saying-it-so-you-will-say-that-I-am” game. Having five kids doesn’t make me smarter, wiser or braver than any other fallen soldier, ahem, I mean parent. Some people would actually call me crazy and/or stupid for having so many kids – well, the ‘Don’t you have a TV?’ type of people definitely do. Often.

It makes no difference whether you have one child or eighteen children there are always hazards and obstacles involved in parenting and there is no technician to call to help with the troubleshooting. The fruit of our loins are not cardboard cut-outs designed to be easily pliable and shaped around our dreams and ideals. They are actually real life mini humans with thoughts and feeling and wants of their own. Plenty of wants. Making mistakes as a parent is usually not life or death, well at least these aren’t the types of mistakes I am referring to. To me, mistakes are just lessons yet to be learnt and I personally seem to have a lot of lessons I’m learning over and over again. It’s like being back in highschool but I’m actually taking every subject there is on offer and I’ve failed them all twice before I finally, on my third attempt, get a D and pass. I am just scraping by with this parenting gig too. D minus all the way. The key here is that I’ll never give in. No matter how hard the wall my head is hitting feels I will continue to try to be better.

Let it be known that when we discuss ‘mistakes’ here we are not judging so let us not get all defensive or hurt and keep those knickers from knotting. Mistakes can be fun. I made three definite ones but they turned out to be pretty awesome kids 😉 Haha I’m kidding. Or am I.

8 MISTAKES YOU SHOULDN’T MAKE AS A PARENT …

‘Shouldn’t’ because this is me giving YOU the heads up! So buckle down, pay attention and be a good student! Oh and don’t take any of my advice too seriously!

  1. SELF-DOUBT. It is a well known fact in the parental kingdom that kids can smell fear and doubt a mile off. It’s as potent as a packet of double coated Tim Tams being opened in the laundry linen cupboard by the real life ‘parent’. Give fear (or a Tim Tam) a mile they’ll still smell it, hear it and feel it. When you tell them “NO” make sure there isn’t any trace of a quiver in your tone and ensure that you are firm and 100% certain because when you tell them “No.. I said no.. Not right now… Maybe later… Oh ok…. Whatever then! Have it!” You’re actually telling them you’re a push over, a sucker and that you are the parent they need to go to whenever they want something because you’re guaranteed to be an easy crack. For the record, I’m the push-over parent. I don’t want to be but I don’t know how to take all the “umms-and-ahhs-ok-fucken-have-it’s” back. It’s gone too far. Don’t be me.
  2. CONSISTENCY. This is kind of like mistake 1^^ except we are making the assured NO consistent. If you fail at being consistent even if it’s just one time you are doomed for all parternity…. See what I did there? Parent? Eternity? No? Oh, well, nevermind. If you consistently suck at being Mum (or Dad) and consistently let them, the child, win you really are screwing yourself over. You have just turned yourself into the inexperienced undergraduate law student whose way out of their jurisdiction and the child has now been supremely promoted to senior associate. You are going to be objected, overruled and begging for a plea bargain the rest of the way through parenthood. Inconsistency is an epic mistake! Be consistent no matter how hungover you are. If there’s consistently been no icy poles for breakfast then it’s never ever any icy poles for breakfast. And for the record, it was only once and now he asks for one every fucking morning.
  3. CLEANING. Ok so basic hygiene is fairly important and we all know that a tidy house feels good but if you invest all your energy into a tidy house and perfect looking kids you will be left a quivering ball of pyschotic mess curled up in the foetal position on the twice mopped floor that is now covered in wet grass and sucked’n’soggy naked Tim Tams. If you plan, as a parent, to have a spotless display type home and TV advertisement children you might as well pack up your uterus right now, hang up your French Maid outfit and drive yourself to the nearest pyschiatric unit. Especially on school holidays. It’s not plausible. It’s not fun for child nor parent and it’s not worth the frustrations. It’s also not worth the crazy cleaning spree you do before a childs birthday party. Seriously you are going to have five hundred dirty little feet, five thousand sticky stubby fingers and a bunch of five year olds who don’t give one fuck. You’re doing it to impress the other mummies – I get it, I’ve been there too – but all it does is make those mummies go home and feel insecure about their parenting and cleanliness. Hang up the facades they’re detrimental to all of our wellbeings.
  4. DREAMS. Before becoming a parent you will have had dreams of the type of parent you were going to be and the kind of child you were going to deliver. Please, honey bunny sugar plum pudding pie, lay those dreams to rest. Right. Now. I’m not trying to blow up your dreams with a motherfucking truth laden stick of dynamite but I am going to say that high expectations may lead to big disappointment. And big disappointments lead to many other things that aren’t nice. Adapt your dreams instead. Take an attitude of seizing every parenting day as it comes. Take each moment as a unique moment in your parenting life and roll with it. Stop, drop and roll. It’s a survival technicque. Use it.
  5. ORGANIC-PALEO-LOW-GI-GLUTEN-DAIRY-SUGAR-YEAST-AND-TASTE-FREE HOMEMADE FOOD.  **Allergy kids not included – der obviously** Nutritious food is paramount to a child’s health and development. It’s not rocket science we all know that. But if you are going to lay claim that you will never, ever give your child a plastic-wrapped piece of what some of us may call ‘food’ then you are setting yourself and your child up for failure. You don’t want to put this pressure on yourself because there may be a day when you’re stuck at the hospital with your sick child who is now screaming for food and your only option is a white bread, butter and vegemite sandwich from the canteen. Give it to her. She’s fucken hungry. But don’t, I repeat, DO NOT give yourself a hard time over it. 100% healthy food only intentions are well meaning but totally glorified and sometimes unrealistic, well for us average parents anyway. Look, I know there are some hybrid parents out there who have and are pulling this 100% free range meat, organic fruit and vege only diets off and kudos to you guys… Ahem Curtis Stone Ahem…. But it’s not going to happen that way for a lot of us. Eventually there will be a day that you’re child is invited to a birthday party. Don’t let him/her be the only kid there that isn’t allowed to eat any of the party food because it isn’t healthy. Don’t be that parent. Don’t be that jackass.
  6. GIVING UP YOUR LIFE. Mummy guilt is a real thing so it is understandable that so many parents give themselves up in order to be parents. Don’t let your children grow up to believe that you only have one identity – as their arse wiper! You are a human with needs, wants and desires of your own. Not fulfilling them will leave you a little empty, slightly confused and probably just a smidge resentful. Honour yourself as a woman (man or dog) and take up a hobby or give yourself the space and a place to go to be you – authentically grown up adult version you. You will be a better parent and they will resepct you more. Lol ok just kidding. You’ll still be an average parent and your kids will still disrespect you. Big girl knickers up and enjoy that ‘you’ time while you can!
  7. PEDESTALS. These fuckers are dangerous. Seriously. Worshipping the ground your children walk on is very different to loving them unconditionally. When you worship them you see them as a glorified version of who they truly are and you expect others to see what you see. Rolling out the red carpet for your children instills an entitled belief system that is going to set them up for failure. Essentially you are lifting them up and placing them on a golden revolving pedestal like they are an object to be admire and adored. Let me warn you there are no rails on those motherfuckers and those objects you call your children will quite possibly fall once they grow up and meet the real world. Be a champ and don’t do that to them. Love them. Nurture them. Ground them. Yes. Yes. Yes! But don’t kiss the air you make them walk on. Not even Jesus walked on air. Remember that.
  8. COMPETITIVE PARENTING. Argh. I hate this. This is what those child worshippers do. I believe children should be allowed to be children, after all it is what they authentically are. It’s like cats. We let them purring pussies be who they are. We don’t dress them up as dolphins and throw them in the ocean just because we ordered an olympic swimmer. Parents shouldn’t be allowed to live their dreams through their children. Sure, teach your kid to swim and to be water safe by what’s the point in making them a bronze medallion swimmer by the age of 3. By all means teach them how to play and be a part of a team sport or a solo game like tennis but why enrol them in strenuous daily sessions, going on for hours at a time just to make them elite athletes by kindygarten. Let them play outside. Let them relax inside. We are breeding a bunch of over achievers instead of fun loving children who should be naturally developing thoughts and feelings and experiences of a child. Over-achievers are arseholes and people generally don’t like them so while they might have many trophies on their mantles they may not have much substance in their souls. So many parents push their kids into being things they didn’t get a chance to be and take control of their ‘talents’ instead of letting them find their joy in what they want to do. Like a little girl who wants to get all rough and tumble while playing football but is made to pull her hair back tight, put on a tutu and dance all because her mother wanted to be a dancing star. It’s selfish and it’s unfair. Give them encouragement and give them an extra little push where needed – especially to all those lazy little sods – but don’t force them to be the 2.0 version of what you wanted to be. That’s just being an a-hole.

Parenting is a full-time position complete with exorbitant amounts of uncertainty, no pay and a few headaches here and there. It’s a job based around other peoples needs and feelings while your own are generally left on the back burner. It’s a tough gig yet somewhere in there it’s an absolute joy and a pleasure. It’s a nightmare rolled in hot chocolate and coated in 100’s and 1000’s (or cacao and chia seeds for the health conscious). Parenting kicks your arse and hugs your heart all at the same time. I’ve been doing it for over 18 years now and I still suck but one thing is for certain and totally not sucky – I love all my little offspring and there’s nobody in this world that could love them more than me. Which is lucky coz that, and the fact they’re all pretty cute, keeps them alive each and every day 😉

Kudos to all adults doing parenthood. We got this.

One love,

DRK xxx

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And finally.. Just b’coz it’s funny…