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…


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.


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.


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





A Note To My Teenage Self

Don’t hurry. Life is longer than your young 14 years – if you’re lucky. And you are lucky because the time travelling ‘you’ knows this to be true.

Don’t worry. You are beautiful just as you are. There is only one you. Be proud of that and make the most of her.

Don’t regret. Choices are made and mistakes happen. Put the perfection bat away you are not a failure – you’re still standing right? Well then, walk on.

Don’t hurt. The self inflicted pain must stop. You would never hurt someone else the way you hurt yourself, would you? Be your own best friend and stop the physical pain.

Don’t give so much. You give yourself away so easily. Trust me if they love you they will wait. And while they wait love yourself it’s the most rewarding love you will ever find.

Find peace. Peace in your moments. Peace in your days. Peace will always bring you back to yourself. Stay centred. Stay grounded. Find peace.

Find faith. Not in a godly sense but in your own capabilities. Believe in your goodness. Believe in your future. Believe in who you are, right her right now, no matter what the situation.

Find joy. Breath it in. Swim in its innocence. Dance with it. There is a lot more joy than you can ever possibly imagine and once you find it treasure every second with it.

Find love. Not from a man, not from anybody else but from within. Nobody will ever truly love you until you fall in love with yourself first.

Be authentic. You are the one and only you. This is the most fucking magical thing ever! When you are authentic you never need validation. You never need someone else to make you feel like you are a good person. When you’re authentic you are 100% the most beautiful version you can be and that type of beauty cannot be measured, compared or captured! It just is.

One love

The Older Version of You 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



Check her out or better still buy the book yourself it’s gold!

Day 12 – It’s Happening …. Clickedy, Click

Have you ever read articles on weight loss where people say something along the lines of “it just clicked” – cut to the amazing before and after shots???

Well I have … heaps and heaps and heaps and it annoys the crapola out of me! It’s so frustrating when you’re a dietaholic, like me, and you hear that there was this miraculous ‘click’ for other people who have struggled with their weight too yet for some reason you haven’t heard it, felt it, seen it or touched it for yourself. And I’ve waited, trust me, I have waited AND waited for this clicking shit to happen.

I wonder when they say it do they mean that it was a definitive click that just materialised out of thin air and then they were cured? Or was it a series of clicks because these before and after photos are deceiving to a visual person like me. To me it looks as though one day they woke up overweight, then something clicked and the next morning they were slim! That. Does. My. Fucking. Head. In!!!!

BUT ……

Of course there is a but ….. Isn’t there always?!

I’ve notice changes in the last 12 days. Changes other than the 4.5kg loss (yes I’m bragging). Nice little changes that may be ever so subtle clicks. Like the rarely-there cravings for chocolate and my ability to talk the odd one out of eventuating. Or the teeny little slip-up that stays a teeny little slip-up and doesn’t turn into a guilt induced oh-well-I-fucked-it binge. I am drinking lots of water – in fact, I am craving it. I am finding the word ‘no’ rolls off my tongue easier and I don’t feel completely deprived when I say it.

It’s kinda awesome. It kinda feels like the beginning of something bigger for me and maybe my problem all along was that I was ‘waiting’ for the click when I should have gone out and activated the fucker myself!

Have you heard the click? Are you one of those who has an awesome ‘before’ & ‘after’?

I want to have awesome ‘b&a’ photos – just for me 🙂

One love

DRK xxx



Liposuction of the Brain

For 12 months now I have been saving for liposuction … Yep, seriously I have! The theory behind that was after having five kids I had a justifiable right to have my stomach synthetically returned to the way it was naturally BC (before children). I believed wholeheartedly in those 365 days – give or take – that liposuction would change my life dramatically. So dramatically, in fact, that most things in my life would improve…. Like I was certain that that little cannula would suck up my negativity and make me a happier person;  inhale the frequently coarse ‘for-fuck’s-sake’ mantra I use so I’d be a nicer more patient mummy; and it would annihilate my low self esteem leaving instead an insane amount of confidence so I would be a hot and hornier-than-a-brass-band-at-band-camp wife for my husband. Ahhhh if only I could have an artificial rod inserted into slits of open skin while a doctor I don’t know intimately enough shoves it back and forth like a phallic symbol sucking up every little cell of fat that I, chocolate and hot chips created.  Sounds romantic huh! But (thankfully) what I’ve come to realise through the success and failure of my 365 day ‘Weigh Less Challenge’ is that the only thing wrong with me is the way that I speak to myself and about myself. Internally and externally.


A few posts ago I started off by saying “I hate myself. I really, really do.” and at that very moment and many moments before and after that one it was really very true. So true that I just didn’t want to be here anymore. I wanted to pack up and move away by myself in a far away land where nobody could find me. A place I would never be able to return from. I believed I was not good enough to be here. Not as a wife, mother, daughter or friend. But life has a funny way to interrupt you and make you see sense of things no matter how bad and that interruption was through my Godparents. Now my Godfather is hardly an Al Capone type and my Godmother doesn’t sprinkle fairy dust everywhere but nevertheless we have a powerful connection of gangsta/fairy dust sorts. So when they pulled me up on this post of mine I was shocked to see that they were shocked. I’ve always assumed that people could see through the smiles, jokes and general conversations I had. I assumed they could hear the internal beatings I would give myself daily hourly every minute of every day – after all that was the only thing I could hear. Their expressions were a big reality hit for me. They weren’t offended or embarrassed by me but they were troubled that I felt so horribly about myself. That moment, that short conversation that I suspended as soon as I could, made me realise writing these honest, red-cape-retired posts can be upsetting and shocking to people in my life. It doesn’t make me want to stop writing – I am here to be honest. It doesn’t make me want to edit my thoughts and feelings either but instead it’s given me a little insight into the way the world sees me. Which is very different from how I see myself, they are two very VERY contradictory things. I knew then someone had to be wrong. And when I looked at myself honestly I became very aware that my world was spinning out of control and I was allowing it …. In fact, I was spinning that motherfucker myself!


In this world (or mine at least) everyone bangs on about natural living yet every second person has had botox, implants, tummy tucks or lipo but for me there is no amount of liposuction, breast uplifting, nose reductions or skin treatments that will change me. An unnatural physical change is not a natural mental change. Using something synthetic is not going to help me feel the most natural things in the world – like happiness, self-love, internal beauty. I have been one of those people who have tried every diet, every pill, every potion, bought every book and fell for every scam. There is only one reason they don’t work for me and that is because my lack of self-love sabotages every effort. Let’s be honest – they all work! There is not, and never will be, a pill, potion or diet that I actually need to get me to where I want to go. The only liposuction I do need is one that will suck all the ‘poor me’ negative bullshit out of my brains way of thinking. So, while I wait for that magic sucking-the-negative-shit-out-of-the-brain machine to be invented I will find my own way and I’m taking the leap! A giant big foot leap into the world of my mind. A place where I need to heal myself, reprogram how I speak to me, set a goal for happiness not the perfect number, to look at where I’m at, glance at where I’m going and never look back at where I’ve been – unless it is to pat myself on the back and say “Hey Girl – you friggen rock! Look how far you’ve come!”. I will focus on where I am right now and not where everyone else is, it’s not a race I do not have to catch up. I will learn to love me the way my family and friends love me and learn to accept and embrace my body in all its feminine glory – jiggly belly, floppy titties and all! My journey starts today. A winding road, I’m sure, with mountains to climb, pitstops, beautiful scenery but all in all an enlightening journey to a happier destination.


In a world where image seems to mean everything I choose not to follow. I choose to turn my back on society for all its unnatural desires and images and instead I choose love. I choose radiance. Inner to outer. Whose up for some of that bright sparkly shit?! Say HELL YEAH!

One love

DRK xxx



I Am Not A Number

I hate myself. I do. I really really do. I have tripped, stumbled and fallen face first into my old ways of weighing, hating, starving, weighing, hating, bingeing, hating, hating, hating. It was four weeks ago when I first made the massive mistake of stepping on those scales again. After 60+ days of not weighing, of being weightless and loving the freedom of just being me and not a number I had a moment of weakness. And like an addict I couldn’t, I didn’t stop. It started when I was getting ready for a concert and had realized that my outfit looked quite different to the last time I’d worn them. So armed with a big hangover and an even bigger curiosity I jump aboard the train wrecking machine. The numbers went up and up and up. Yep, I have officially gained 6 kilos. 6 extras in 60 days. I know to some this is not a lot but to me this hurts… It hurts a lot!

So I’m now “that” girl. The girl who people talk about and say “wow she’s put on some weight”. They question if I’m pregnant…. again. And I feel uncomfortable with the looks, I feel embarrassed to almost weigh what I did full term pregnant during my heaviest pregnancy. I am constantly hiding my belly, shielding it with any amour I can – like handbags, positioning my baby so he is sitting on my tummy, I hide behind a pram, a table, my seatbelt or when I’m on the lounge my amour is a pillow. I am paranoid to see those eyes wander down to my stomach and those deafening silent thoughts of “is she or isn’t she”. There is so much more to life I know there is but when I focus in on my circle, on the people I know, there is so much focus on being slim, loosing weight, looking a certain way and it’s pressure. It’s fucking huge pressure to be “one of them”.

So then the question becomes – can I love and live with those extra 6kgs? This is the number that I can eat whatever I like and exercise as little as I like. 6kgs lighter means working my arse off and watching every calorie I let pass my lips and then beating myself up with every additional calorie I consume. I hate it. I hate the cycle. I hate the way it makes me feel but all around me are Superwomen and superficiality. On magazine covers, on TV, on social media, in social circles, in the school yard. When you suffer from this body-hating disease you see it everywhere. One side of your brain says it’s not important. You look at your one year old son and it says it’s not important. You see your Nana in high dependency nursing home and it says it’s not important. You read back through the post “60 Minutes Left to Live” and you know without a shadow of a doubt it is NOT important. It is not important. Hating myself is not ok. It is not living. I am not a number. I am not an awful human being…. How do you switch it off…..

One love,
DRK xxx

How To Lose Your Muffin Top

It’s been 16 days since my little footsies have touched the plastic-metal-square-numbered thingy. It’s been 16 days without any double digits burning into my eye sockets and depleting the last of my poor self esteem atoms. 16 long and wonderful days…. Wonderful because I’ve eaten when I was actually hungry. I’ve eaten what I actually felt like eating – good or bad – and I’ve become super aware of how different foods actually make me feel. Not feel as in the guilt or shame I once felt because the scales had told me I was already fat that morning but feel as in the massive sugar comedowns and the feeling that someone has shat in my mouth from all the unknown agents in packaged food. Let me tell you when you become food aware you realize those unknown agents sure can shit and it tastes really fucking bad!

So for 16 days (plus the few additional weeks of ‘Christmas Spirit’ before that) I’ve inhaled foods I wouldn’t normally on such a regular basis and I’ve enjoyed every second of the freedom. People are telling me how great I look because I’m happy and I don’t question their motives when once upon ago it was one of my biggest “over-thinking” items in my catalogue of overthinking things.

I feel lighter without all the mental baggage but in truth I know I would still have a melt down if I stood on that numbered bitch today because she would still define me by a number. This is the reason this is a 365 day challenge and not a two week challenge because nothing has changed except the way I feel about myself without the numbers. But this new feeling needs to set, like concrete, before a scale should ever tell me anything ever again.

So as part of my (mental) transformation I’ve sold all of my “motivational” pants and tops – you know the ones? They’re the pants that you try on and they’re a little tight but you get them anyway coz “one day” you’ll fit in them. They’ll be a great motivation, you think. They’ll encourage you to make healthy eating choices and to exercise every day. Big news people PANTS CANT TALK! They do not have a voice. They will not tell you that your bum does indeed look big in them and to get that arse moving now before you spilt them right down the middle! And, now that I’ve realised they won’t actually talk to me I can say, for me personally, that they haven’t been motivational at all! They just tell me that the outfit a size too small gives me a muffin top. Yet, shockingly, in the right size clothes there is no muffin top at all. Now put that on a magazine cover – “Lose your muffin top in three minutes! Guaranteed!”


16 days is only a small amount of time when taken from 365 but they are small steps in the right direction for a much more fulfilling life. Hell I’m even inspiring myself with how I’ve changed! Now that’s something to write about!

One love,
DRK xxx