I Thought We Were Done With This!

I know this is going to sound ludicrous to some people and then, some people will totally get what I mean when I say, every day, I fight an addiction to food. I know it sounds ridiculous, but it is 100% true for me. As a food lover I am addicted to carbs, sugar and eating because I am bored/tired/sad/lonely/happy/celebrating/whatever really. I have never been the kind of person who eats to live. I have never forgotten to have lunch or dinner. Instead I have always been that girl who lives to eat. It is a hard cycle to break because it is not like you can just “give up” food. Life revolves around food. Celebrations revolve around food. Sad events revolve around food. Life = food.

 

I have never been one of those people who could eat what they like without gaining a pound. I gain very easily. I gain too easily. Call it genetics. Call it “I fucked up my body with all my dieting”. Call it whatever you want but the truth is when I eat more then a very small amount I gain or at least sit at my overweight weight. But for the past 4 weeks I have been on the F45 Challenge with 4 weeks to go (but it doesn’t really end there you and I both know that). Usually I would have given up by now so I will give myself some credit for that. I have also lost 6kg (13 pounds) in that four weeks which I know is good, great even, but I am hard on myself. I’ve lost 6kg even though I am only doing the food part of the challenge due to existing physical issues and another one I decided to add the first weekend of the challenge. Six kilos is a good amount but it could have been better coz I have not been perfect.

 

I question myself and my motives every day more than once, in fact every passing minute. On one hand I have this voice saying why are you doing this, love yourself as you are, you’ve had five kids, life is short, you only live once, it is ok to love food, to be slim means giving everything up, to be slim means you will be miserable, I thought we were done with this battle, if you give this food up now the next time you try it you are going to gain every kilo back so why even bother… On and on.

 

I get slammed.

 

Then faintly in the background I hear… this will pass, you are on your way, imagine how great you are going to feel, drink more water, you aren’t hungry you are bored/tired/procrastinating, you are doing this BECAUSE you love yourself, think of all the clothes you will be able to wear again, imagine feeling good every day, imagine feeling like you again…

 

The talking in my head is a cataclysmic royal pain in my arse.

 

But onward I march. I will quieten those voices. I will reach my goals. I will look back briefly only to see how far that I have come. I will keep moving forward because even if the progress is slow it is still progress and for that I will keep on keeping on and when that fails I will read back over this blog and another blog I wrote last year “Five Tips to Stop Over Eating and Start Losing Weight”. I should really listen to the words I give to others – it makes sense + would be so much more powerful if I actually lived it instead of preached it.

 

My top six goals:

  1. To be able to take my wedding rings off to get cleaned (they’ve been stuck on for the past 3 years)
  2. To fit into my jeans again without having to have the top button undone AND ending up with terrible tummy pains from squishing everything in so tight.
  3. To eat only when actually hungry and be satisfied with a balanced diet
  4. To have a waist line of under 80cm
  5. To have a body fat of under 29%

 

It will take me longer than the eight weeks but progress is still progress. Wish me luck!

Quitter

Oh and P.S I am baaaaccckkkk… ❤ SAHDRK xox

Assault in a Perfect World

Recently, like very recently, my eldest son was assaulted. He was beaten up by a gang of 6 youths and his brand new bike was stolen. When I found out, after knowing my son was ok, I was angry. I was so fucken angry and I wanted to hunt these cowards down and I wanted to inflict severe pain on them. I wanted to take their possessions and make them feel vulnerable and scared for their lives. I wanted them locked up with the key thrown to the bottom of the ocean because to me they were the scum of the earth.

Eventually after these feelings had run through my heart and soul like red hot lava the sadness kicked in. Like deep, deep sadness where my heart broke and my tears flowed. Not only was I sad for my son and how this could possibly affect the rest of his life but I was deeply saddened to know these kids knew no better and quite possibly they never will. I was sad for them because they weren’t brought up in a loving family environment where they were taught right from wrong. I was sad they didn’t know how their actions affect other people for the rest of their lives – or don’t care. I was sad to know that they will go through the justice system and be in and out of jail for the rest of their lives and there is probably nothing anybody could do about it.

Then I thought how we could change this? How could we make things better before things get worse? How could we create a judicial system that helps make these kids, while they still have the chance, to be decent adults and better human beings – rather than locking them up with other trouble makers where they just learn new tricks.  So I created the perfect world. A world where these children were charged. Where they went before a court and their offences were made clear but then instead of juvenile prison they were instead taken to a remote village. A place where they were mentored, hugged, lived off the organic goodness of the land and taught good manners and morals. A place where they felt safe and could make the change to be kind. To be thoughtful. To laugh at funny things not cruel things. To be a person who they can enjoy being, to make something of their lives.

It’s crazy and naive I know. It’s a dream and a perfect world. But I do believe that some of these young ones could actually benefit from a place like this – it probably already exists. I think they could grow up and then they could become mentors themselves and start changing the circle of life for their families, their children. To some degree I believe in rehabilitation I am just not sure it can be done in an environment that is already toxic.

Just a “perfect world” thought.

One Love

DRK xxx

Raise Your White Flag in the Body War

It was recently made very clear to me how far I have come in the body image war I have succumbed to for decades. It became clear when I was exposed to judgements, harsh and directed solely at me judgements, about my body not being the size it was pre-baby number five. For it not being slim enough. For it being not as attractive as it used to be… yes seriously. I was told that I wasn’t trying hard enough to “get it back” and that I needed to eat less (*hint* one meal a day) and exercise more (*hint* up to a couple of hours a day). *Hand slaps forehead* Really?! And all this from a man!

I sat and listened for 45 minutes to a mans attitude about my body. It was painful and it actually really hurt my feelings… Yes I have feelings. To think their opinions towards my body was more important than my own opinions of my body left me flabbergasted. It pissed me off because I had to defend my body like it was an object up for discussion and it gutted me because I have finally, FINALLY, embraced what I have in all of its womanly glory and yet that doubt, that ugliness of body hate still managed to creep its way back in, briefly.

I am not going to lie to you and tell you how fierce I was during this discussion. How strong or how awesome the comeback I had was. No. I am going to tell you the truth. I went to bed and I cried. Not a lot but a little. I cried silently to myself because I felt humiliated and angry that my body could be put under a microscope like that. I cried because it brought up instant dread of being stuck as me, in this body, even though I no longer despised it.

My body was not only scrutinised but it was also measured against my husbands. My body that is nourished with healthy food, rarely has toxic drinks poured down its throat, never faces internal rotting and decay with cool drink and is regularly nurtured through physical exercise was compared against a males. A man whose body, which obviously appears slimmer to the judiciary, is exposed to litres of cool drink, buckets of lollies and rarely sees any exercise – unless it is his annual 56km charity walk. I am not husband bashing here either because my husband is a very physically active man but to compare us, to compare our bodies is absurd.

My body has housed five babies, lived through over 200 weeks of pregnancy, suffered depression, been tortured with diet after diet, its been starved and then stuffed full for emotional protection. It has been through grief and stress and yet it is curvaceous, it is healthy, it is nourished with goodness and it can walk, stand, jump, hug, hold and move without much fuss (or pelvic floor stability – lol). It is pretty fucking amazing.

My body should not be up for discussion, yet I was body shamed pure and simple. I sat and listened to how huge an Australian size 12 was. I watched those words roll off the tongue with facial expression like they’d just swallowed a fly. A fly encrusted with maggots and then rolled and toasted in shit. But being a size 12 I guess I would still eat that coz thats what we ‘big’ people do – we eat anything and everything.

The whole 45 minutes was awful, it was embarrassing and it made me feel very self conscious about every move I made thereon in. BUT and this is a big but – I overcame it. A few years ago that kind of conversation would have destroyed me. I would have starved myself for a few days and then binged for a few more. I would have beaten myself up til I was black and blue with nasty self talk, daily mirror bashing and thrice daily body weighing – followed by uncontrollable crying. My anxiety would have been through the roof leaving me with panic attacks unable to leave the house without hours of trying on clothes that would cover up all my unsightliness. I would have retired all my shorts, figure hugging dresses, skirts and sleeveless shirts in the “I can never wear these again pile” and I would have cried for days upon days.

BUT I only cried a little. Then I put on my mum-of-five-appropriate short shorts and I got on with my life. I ate as I normally would which for those of you judgement focused people out there is actually balanced. My anxiety remained level and there was no beating up on myself at all. I’d like to even go as far as to say that this 45 minutes was actually a blessing because it taught me so much about myself. It taught me that I actually do love my body enough to accept it in times of examination. To accept it regardless of anyone else’s opinion of it and it taught me that I am miles ahead of the body hater I once was and this is good news! No fuck it it is GREAT news!

I’ve surrendered to the image focused world I live in and to the people who feel they have the right to make decisions about me based on my body. But my surrender doesn’t come feebly, it comes from power. A powerful position that I have long awaited to stand in. This is me. This is my body. This is what I am most proud of. It’s done me good. It will continue to do so and I know without a shadow of a doubt that when I die I will NOT ever question, care or have any concern for that kilo or ten I thought I had to lose just because society told me so.

I’ve surrendered because somebody else’s opinion of my body doesn’t matter. I’ve surrendered because I know how I care for my body. I know that I am healthy and I know that for some reason this weight is just where my body whats to hang out at regardless of what I am doing for it right now. I own this. I own this body I am in and there is no shame in my body what-so-ever.

Sadly I know I am not alone. I know there are so many people out there that are body shamed daily who are still where I was a few years ago and so I want to say this to you…

If you don’t stick up for yourself who will? If you don’t support your body and all of its amazing physically capabilities and glory than who will?! Who will have your back (and front and cellulite and butt)? Nobody can have it better than you! Only you can pull those shoulders back . Only you know that your body is nurtured, looked after and loved. There is only one person in your bodys’ world that has any importance – YOU. You and you alone have the power to surrender to the ridiculousness of this image focused world and truly shine as your unique self.

Find the love within. Your body can do amazing things – and it does them without you even having to think about them every single day. How fucking lucky are we!

One Love. Body Love.

DRK xxx

Egos at War

A little while ago I did something. Something that I wanted to do for myself but also to help others. Women in particular. I was so excited to be a part of a something bigger than my little world and to share a valuable message with as many people as I could. Just registering to do, for me, was life changing because it took so much courage to even get it rolling and once I had stepped over through the fear boundary I felt so empowered.

And then it all went to shit.

I was hit with obstacle after obstacle by someone willing to do anything to get their own way. But what hurt most was she came out looking like a goddess and I, a second rate try-hard. In truth I was completely cast to the side and forgotten about. She lied to me and to others, embellished her ‘story’ and bullied me into a corner. She was spiteful and used others against me. I sound resentful don’t I? That’s because I am.

I know if I was the person then that I am today then I would have stood up for myself a lot better. And this makes me feel so incredibly frustrated at myself.

Today all the disappointment and anxiety I felt during that time came flooding back because I found out she received recognition for her efforts. That she received a personal call and a huge pat on the back. Yet me, who never kicked up a fuss, who never stepped on anyones toes, who never wanted to take away from the message I wanted to share so I kept my mouth shut got sweet fuck all.

Don’t get me wrong I didn’t do it for the self promotion like she did but to be shafted, bullied and disempowered and then for the shafter, bully and disempowerer to receive all the credit hurts… A lot. I feel resentment that I was the nice girl and I walked away unacknowledged. She even took credit for my hard work and claimed it as her own!

But yesterday after I allowed the crap feelings to build to an extreme level I decided to do something about it because I sure as shit am NOT going to let this “inspiring woman” have any more of my energy and it starts right here… Right now.

It all starts with forgiveness and retiring the ego.

I am going to forgive her. I am going to forgive her underhanded ways. Forgive that her drive was more important than another womans feelings. Forgive her ego for feeling superior and mine for acting inferior.

Forgiveness doesn’t mean we are going to be best friends or that she is off the hook for the trouble she caused. Forgiveness just means that I will no longer carry the feelings of hurt and disempowerment around with me. I know my part. I know what really happened and shouting the truth from the roof tops will only make me look like a cunt.

It is our egos at war here and at the end of the day it is my hurt ego that is driving these feelings. It is my ego that wants people to know the truth but someone once said you can be happy or you can be right.

I choose happy.

One Love

DRK xxx

Living With Regrets

We’re not supposed to have regrets or at least we shouldn’t admit to having them. “No regrets” is the life motto of so many and it’s honourable. Admirable. Dare I say it – inspirational?! But I’m all about being different and real so let me do those two things for you for a second here…

Do I have regrets?

Hell to the yes I fucking do!

I regret wasting 20 years of my life hating my body. Not swimming because of my body. Missing good times and parties because of my body. Not allowing myself to talk to that super funny chick and making a new friend because of my body. My hideous, unlikable body – I regret feeling that way about myself for so long.

I regret not being a better sister. I really fucking do. My brother was dying and I was thinking of myself, constantly. I really regret that selfish phase of my life and I’m sure he is ok up there with it all but I missed out on more memories because of my selfishness. And there I go being selfish again – but that I don’t regret.

I totally really regret sleeping with so many boys as a youngster. Yes, I would call myself a slut – but hey had I been a boy I would have been a total stud. I regret it because they mostly treated me like shit and I regret so badly that I didn’t stand up to them and tell them not to treat a desperate, low self-esteemed girl like that. Warn them that one day they would have daughters of their own and most of them do which makes me laugh like a super-villian-evil-bitch. I would warn them that it would kill them to see their insecure child being treated like a piece of meat. I regret not mastering that super-attitude-finger-waving-head-tilting thing that women do. I regret not having enough self worth to treat myself better and to tell those boys to go fuck themselves. I don’t look back at those times and think to myself “Yeah, that sure was fun!” Honestly I cringe and I think how desperate and ugly I felt back then – it wasn’t fun at all.

I have spent twenty plus years, regretfully wasting my precious life on being something or someone that I thought would please others yet I hated everything about the wannabe that was me. Always seeking external gratification, external recognition, external la-di-fucking-da’s. I wish I had been taught at a much younger age that all of those things were inside me all along.

Over those two decades I’ve shed a few of the try-hard-qualities as I have grown, lived and learned (eventually) but it’s been the last three years where I’ve picked up the speed on that shedding and all those things I thought I had to be or couldn’t be no longer exist or matter as of today in my dirty thirties. It is liberating and soul freeing. I’ve un-become so I can be exactly who I am. And my regrets aren’t filled with anger or sadness they are simply regrets. Which is my point. That it is ok to have regrets. The point is not to dwell on them. The point is to learn from them and the most monumental point is to embrace them as part of your life story. I wouldn’t have, be or understand life as I do now if I didn’t do all those shitty things I regret.

What’s most important of all is that you stop being somebody else and be yourself instead! Become you because you are living a life nobody else can. You are in control and all the choices are yours for your present and future. Sometimes the past sucks big hairy sweaty balls and those things sure do taste like shit but RIGHT NOW you are in a completely different moment and you get to CHOOSE whatever it is you want. Happiness. Gratitude. Weirdness. Whatever. Open those big fucking eyes of yours and look in that mirror. You don’t have to make love to yourself to love yourself but you can if you want. You don’t have to tell the whole world how a-fucking-mazing you are. You don’t have to do a single damn thing to live with your regrets. You just live. You just choose to live as you. Which is not always easy but shake off the shit you’ve pretended to be for so long and just be you.

Now go. Go and live in the present moment, which will soon be your past, and live it as YOU. Because, trust me, when you actually make decisions in life based on being you they can’t become regrets. They are instead whoopsies. When you make moves in life, as you, and you are being real and honest with yourself any fuck-ups simply become good memories… Eventually … One day … And you will laugh about them because you will know you were just being yourself. Your adorable, imperfect self.

One love

DRK xxx

Exposing the Truth!

I feel the need to explain the site title “Superwoman and Her Dirty Red Knickers” as I can only imagine what some minds may be conjuring up. I mentioned this very title to my Mum this morning and for someone with even less of an understanding into the blogging world than me she was rather concerned with the type of people who may “accidentally” come across me via Google. Good point really…

So to state the not-so obvious when I say “dirty red knickers” I am NOT implying to not know how to wash my underwear nor does it mean I am kinky in any way, shape or form, it doesn’t mean I will post photos of my underwear nor does it mean that red is my favourite colour….. So what is it all about??

Well, some people call me Superwoman – you know one of the many stereotypes – kids, career, volunteering, shift working husband etc etc but I am one of many! Kids or not, career or not , it doesn’t really matter. You can be a Superwoman in any facet, I guess as long as you are a woman though.

What this is about is …. Reality! The truth! Its the moments when your two-year-old sits on the floor at your local supermarket screaming blue murder, you have their snot and dribble on your “best supermarket shirt” shirt and you are copping stares from the composed parents out with their sweet well-behaved angels and you are thinking to yourself “Is this it?” “Is this all there is?!”

So I am unlocking the secret thoughts and the wondrous workings of a females brain. I’m airing the dirty laundry (including the dirty red knickers) for anyone whose willing to admit not everything is rainbows and sunshine. Our dirty little secrets are about to be exposed and I can’t wait to get some things off my chest – all in good fun, all with a lighthearted and joyful intention. And all to ensure that we women start to put down our perfection bats and quit beating ourselves with them!

So join me with a smile, a happy heart and an understanding of sarcasm in this WWW blogging journey…

One love,
DRK xx