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


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


One love

DRK xxx

Ever Had One of THOSE Days?

I’ve had one of “those days”!

I know you get what I mean when I say that because I bet your bottom dollar you’ve had at least one of those days this year too.

It’s the kind of day where you’re dropping your child at school and you’re totally high fiving yourself coz you’re there right on time for once… And then you see every other student in free-dress. It’s the kind of day where your child cries relentlessly because he is the only one in his uniform and you feel like the worst Mother in the world because you didn’t read the memo! So you drive home, you change him into free-dress and you take him back – which by now, of course, he’s late.

It’s the kind of day when you have so much to do but you have an almost-three-year-old who won’t let you do any of it without a fight. Fuck the terrible a twos these fucked up threes are a nightmare! A tantrum down every aisle, bargaining like a mother fucker just to keep him quiet, a shit in his pants in the Bunnings car park, shoes off/shoes on argument every single stop we make, a Houdini in the seatbelt and a bite on the behind in Spotlight. And just to be clear he bit me! Not from anger just pure enjoyment.

It’s the kind of day where you get granted 1 hour alone time without that Houdini biting child just to finish what you started because it was simply impossible to do it with him and stay sane. You get to the supermarket but you can’t remember how you got there and you start to wonder whether silence in the car is actually more distracting than a noisy and demanding toddler. You arrive safely, thank god, and park in the furtherest spot from the shops because it’s the only car bay where someone has actually parked in their lines. You suit up, smack that “I got this shit” smile on and head in. Locating all your items in the “new look” supermarket is tough and you seem to get caught behind every single granny who has recently had a hip operation. They’re clocking their Zimmer-frames at minus 40km/hour while swerving dangerously all over the aisle. You can’t go around them, ones coming up the rear and their too deaf to hear your polite excuse me’s. It’s snail pace on horse tranquillizers… and there is seriously a billion of them.

It’s the kind of day where you’re “late” for appointments that you actually secretly forgot and your kid forgot to hand in a permission slips for an excursion so you have to do an emergency dash to the school otherwise they can’t go. And if there’s something worse than a three-year-old tantrum it’s a moody fourteen-year-old boy. Ergh, fast forward to a happy well adjusted adult please.

It’s the kind of day when you’re about to sit down, finally, only to realise you have two kids still ‘out there’ awaiting your pick up some time soon. So you fold up your PJ’s and put them back on the bed for later… Much later. Oh well, what’s two more trips to the fourteen hundred already clocked up today.

It’s the kind of day when you’ve finally sent out your child’s three-year-old birthday party invitations only to find out apparently he’s turning one coz one rhymes with fun and three doesn’t and you probably should have known that when you bought the cute little invites.

It’s the kind of day when it seems everyone has decided to drive on the roads at the exact same time as you, but super cautiously…. Must be those hip replacement Grannies from the shops! Like 20km-below-the-speed-limit-cautious. And you want to scream and yell and be one of those psycho road ragers that you see on YouTube coz you’re in a hurry but you’re way too cool and kind for that so you sit behind them muttering obscenities under your breath because if you say them out loud the almost-three-year-old will repeat it in front of his Speech Therapist who wants to hear his ‘new’ words.

It’s the kind of day you need I.V coffee just to get you through.

It’s the kind of day where I may whinge a lot, I know, I seriously do, but I can also find the joy. I’ve high-fived myself on numerous occasions because even though I’ve been late, I’ve been frustrated, I’ve been bitten by my almost-three-year-old … I’m alive. I made it. The kids made it. We managed to laugh and talk and tickle. We’ve managed to shower and eat and fall asleep peacefully. And those slow drivers probably saved me a speeding ticket, maybe even saved me from having an accident. 

Nobody’s going to shake my hand or pat me on the back tonight to tell me what an awesome fucken game of survival I played today. Nobody’s going to give me a pay cheque for being an event planner, a taxi driver, a personal shopper, an au pair, a negotiator or a teething ring for someone who already has a mouthful of teeth. Nobody really cares.

But it’s the kind of day that when I finally crawl into bed at midnight that I can count my blessings. Of which I have many and whinging, freely, in my blog is one. Because I get to say it, unleash it, vent it and let it go while you get to relate or hate or whatever tickles your fancy and we all get on with our day after that. And so my venting here is done and my blessings have been counted. 

How about yours?

One love,

DRK xxx

Oops I Did it Again!


When will I learn?! I have this terrible pattern and insane idea in my head which I generally think is new yet it leads down exactly the same pot-holed path as always. What did I do? Well I did the whole ‘I’m losing weight’ thing…. again (I can almost hear my Mums/BF’s eyes rolling from here).

You see I have this Gala event coming up that I have always wanted to go to but in my mind I had always envisioned myself getting ready for this event months in advance so I could lose weight, tone up and look amazing, oh and find the perfect dress – coz of course perfection exists. I wanted to transform like a celebrity who hasn’t been seen for awhile and then pops up on the Red Carpet all slim and different! Now I do know that I am not a celebrity no matter how many times I imagine having coffee with P!nk but I have always wanted to wow someone, anyone, with a little transformation of my own. SO when I got an invite to this ball and after I did my jaunty jig – a jaunty jig because I was so excited I almost peed myself, yes, pelvic floors, we are not friends – I realised I had 3 weeks to prepare. As in 21 days! So instantly my brain goes into overdrive! If I have envisioned myself at this ball looking better then ever for the past 8 years how am I going to achieve that within 21 days **insert Googling-like-mad here**. “Fastest way to lose weight in 21 days”; “Quickest weightloss in under 3 weeks”; “Can I survive on water for 21 days”…. Yes these are all things that I really and truly Googled and apparently I WILL be able to lose 10kg in 21 days by drinking water, cayenne pepper and maple syrup and … immmm … well…. that’s about it – oh and oxygen – I can still breathe oxygen! I may not be able to stand upright or to hold a conversation once I get to the night but hey I’ll look good right?!

And so I did. Yep I went out there I bought some lemons, cayenne pepper but I left out the maple syrup because surely I didn’t need those extra calories and yes my brain really does say that shit to me! I headed home that afternoon, with my next three weeks of supplies and all set for the ‘new me’ process to begin the very next day which, of course, meant I could finish off all the chocolate in the house prior to that happening…. C’mon I know you do it too!!

The morning arrived and I was all fired up – I even played the song – and yes Pat Benatar can make anyone fired up! I made my solution carefully converting the ounce measurements to litres though I may or may not have accidentally tripled the cayenne pepper by case of poor mathematics skills which meant every time I drank the concoction it would take my mouth a good half hour to quit burning (yep I was truly fired up!) The upside of too much cayenne pepper, yes there is one, is it makes you extra thirsty so you have to drink more, then it burns more, you get thirsty more, and well, just put that on repeat…. But…. Anyway I did it! 21 days and 10kgs gone! True as! Yep I really, really did! I am a completely transformed woman!!! I now have jutty out bones, no tits, and if theres more then 8 knots of wind (which includes my husbands force of flatulence) I fall over….. What? Why do you have that look on your face? You don’t seem to believe me?! Aarrggghhhh ok, ok I’m fucking lying! I lasted only 4. What? No, not days – 4 hours I mean!

The pivotal moment was when my friend came to visit me and I confided in her about my master plan. Her response? ……. Laughter! She text me later that day to say she had also received an invite and would need to lose 10kg in 21 days – I wanted to slap her because it sounded so ridiculous and then I realised she was mocking me. Bitch! Lucky I love her!

Now there are 16 days to go and still 10kgs to lose but you know what? I heard this awesome quote from a lady I am loving sick right now, Denise Duffield-Thomas … She said something along the lines of it doesn’t matter if paint a turd in gold and roll it in glitter its still shit and it stinks! The ‘looks’ thing that I involve myself in and the ‘ideal’ weight thing really is shit and it really does stinks! It does my bleached-blonde head in and if someone sits there judging me for my chubby arse and pregnant-with-an-oversized-donut-belly then I will paint them in gold and roll them into a glitter-covered turd.

As for me? Well, my road to body acceptance continues as does the burn in my mouth!

One Love

DRK xxxx