SHOW ME THE MONEY!!!!

If you won lotto tomorrow... what would you do?

For the sake of the exercise lets say you win $5 million.

Would you become a "Patron" or "Spokesperson" or some other rich person title that no one is sure what the hell you actually do?

Travel? sure... but how? private jet? super launch? into space with Crazy Arsed Mr Branson? Hoverboard?

Here are my top 5...

1) House on the beach...not sure exactly where but Perth has the best beaches
2) A couple of years off to see more the world, 6 months was just not enough. South Africa, Canada, Hawaii, Bora Bora, Japan, New Zealand and then back to France
3) Personal trainer and chef because I would be an absolute lard arse in all this luxury
4) Family and friends. It feels good to give and to help....
5) 2 million to invest wisely and hopefully live off for the remainder of our very enjoyable lives

Sounds boring I know, but $5 mill in my hands would disappear like...well...my money, so I have to be conservative in my dreams or I am likely to end up blogging about the time I accidently spent $5 mill at Typo and Kikki K.

 In the mean time my budget stretches to luxury candles and that kind of smells like wealthy...

Oh God. I am boring myself already

Today is the 1st day of a new eating regime. Day 1, actually 1/2 of day 1 as its only just lunchtime....
So far my inner dialogue has gone something like this...

Yeah, I can do this, I'm gonna follow this diet and i'm going to be healthy and slim and feel great... WOO

Is that sausage roll I can smell?

If I squint, really hard, these blueberries look a little like chocolate covered raisins.

Why can't coffee be negative calories? Its not a food as such, its my life sustaining battery charger...

"Yay" (sarcasm dripping from each letter).... spinach...

FOOD FOOD FOOD FOOD FOOD FOOD FOOD... I'm sorry were you talking to me?

What should I blog about.... I know!.... Food

If I don't eat anything else for the rest of the day, I can have a glass of wine when I get home.

This Chamomile tea tastes like mouse pee

How can fruit salad be so unsatisfying?

I am still NOT eating kale... just no


If I stand at this exact spot at the counter at work, I can see Krispy Kreme donuts (because my brain is an asshole)

So, as you can see, I will be back in my size 12 jeans shortly.... ahem.

Girls Can Be So Mean!

I have been home for 10 minutes. I have literally walked back in the door and had my youngest daughter grab my hand, pull me into my bedroom and shut the door. In a flood of tears she told me she was fat.

After a fair amount of coaxing, the story came out. A little friend of hers had pinched her waist and exclaimed "You're already fat!". To make matters worse, today was a "dress up" day. My daughter wore her most favourite and pretty dress, the one that gave her a little confidence in herself.

This blog is not to question wether or not she is fat and its also not to defend her or myself. IT DOESN"T MATTER.
The fact is, she is 8 and the sweetest, kindest, most mild and caring little girl. Not only that but she is very bright. I am so proud of her and in her private moments she is also a very special kind of funny. I love the fact that she reserves this special inner clown just for us, her loved ones, it is a real privilege. My daughter also loves to sing. She wakes up in the morning with a song and a little skip and dance. Everything is a musical to her. I pretty sure in her mind, life is a disney cartoon and I am so grateful for that too.

I am hugging my daughter, equal parts crying for her and fighting the urge to pin a certain little girl up by her big toes next time I see her.

I am facing an annoying and unwanted choice.

Do I reassure her and say "No darling you're not fat, you're a growing girl who is gorgeous"?


Do I say "It doesn't matter. big, small or tall you are a good person with a loving and kind heart"?

I ended up doing a bit of both. Every girl deserves to have a period in their lives where they feel and truely believe they are the most beautiful girl in the world. EVERY GIRL deserves that. I am her MUM and I am so angry that at 8, she has already lost that.

This won't be the last time. I know that. I want her to be strong enough to say "Screw you and your shallow opinion", but I know she's not. She will take that hurt and little bleeding heart and tuck it away, from now on always doubting a little if she really does look pretty.

How dare they?

That little voice that needs a punch in the head

I don't have just one little voice in my head, I have two.

This morning I forgot my work keys, and there fore was late opening the shop. Luckily for me I work with some very understanding people. But what pisses me off, is that yesterday as I was leaving a little voice in my head said "you better check if you have your keys". Then the other "arsehole" voice said "no, it's ok, of course you have them!".

This is the same arsehole voice that says things like "don't worry about writing that vital piece of information down, you'll remember it!" Or "you look as big as the side of a house this morning, make up isn't going to help you" or "or geez you're a bit crap at (insert thing) how have you managed to get this far?" Or "how dare you laugh and have fun in the world, you're grieving!".

If the arsehole voice was a person I would punch it in the head. Unfortunately it's my head.

The other quiet little voice that warns you of something just out of sight or wants you check something or gives you many opportunities to right something that you know you should, this is the champion. Sometimes it's so quiet that it's not even words.

How many times have I been swayed by the arsehole voice,

Do you even lift??

Pretty much my whole body is a collection of muscles that need work. Some more than others. So, Ive decided to start on one area in particular.

It is possible to work and tone these muscles using weights.

"So what?"you say? ... No this blog is not turning into a fit bunnies account of her own arse in various stages of roundness. Its worse.

I am talking about my pelvic floor. 
For the most part, I am a proud owner of my girlie parts and its not a big deal, really, until I decide I need to jump, skip or go for a jog.

For all the male readers that I may have somehow attracted to my blog and who have now realised that I am talking about "girlie bits", it's ok, It's funny.

So, one late night, I read an article about "that kind" of weight lifting to help train and tone those muscles.

Obviously, you can't just attach your nearest dumb bell on a string a walk around. So I order the beginners kit, sneakily, and hope that Dave doesn't ask what the extra $$ on the credit card were.

He did. I watched as the potential, hopeful gleam in his eye turn into absolute, belly clutching, roll on the floor laughter. Followed by cheeky questions about "How buff is it going to get?" and future texts asking if "I even lift?".

So, its early days. I can't exactly hop on the scales to track progress. But its the easiest work out Ive ever had to do and gives a whole new meaning to working out.


I'm blushing and already wondering if I will have the guts to publish this... If you ever actually read this particular post, than cheers to you in partaking in my overshare.

And heres to "Buff Vags" everywhere.

P.S If you're a little nuts like me and in the same boat, contact me and I can let you know the brand. 

Why I felt like a contented Walrus in Paris

Touch down in Paris, tired, bedraggled but oh so happily surprised by our chic french Airbnb apartment in Passy. Walking distance to the Eiffel tower and straight out of the iconic Paris images that we have daydreamed over. Once the jet lag fog lifted and we ventured onto the streets, we started to notice a trend. Every-single-person, every-bloody-one was gorgeous.

Older men with stylishly turned up collars and a devilish sweep to their hair. Women, svelte, and groomed and confident and quirky, beautiful and sexy, I swear Dave and I both had trouble holding a thought, let alone a conversation. Even teenagers, who should have been pimply and greasy, like normal, wore perfect "I'm glamorous but don't care" street outfits, all shiny hair and big sunglasses.

Now, I'm a bigger girl. I know this fact and its not exactly something I can hide. For the most part, from hour to hour, day to day, I don't think about it too much and there are some bonuses, like a great rack. It crosses my mind when considering a krispy kreme donut (or two) or under those god awful fluorescent change room lights, oh and especially when I accidentally swap to the front camera on my phone, but, like I said, not too often.... Until Paris.

Suddenly, I was Walrus Shrek. I felt ungainly, huge and dowdy. Dressed in my "I had to pack for 6 months and I never ever want to iron in that time" outfits, I walrused, with my family in tow, to all of the famous and best Paris locations.....and had the BEST fucking time!

You know why I didn't care? Cos it was Paris. I gorged on Almandine croissants, cheese, Pate, Champagne, Wine, Pain Chocolate, more cheese, terrine and cognac.

Parisians, you can be skinny, you can be stylish and while you cook like that? Ill happily be the fat, drooling, clomping walrus in the background inhaling all your delicacies and i'll thank you for it. Do yourself a favour, buy a mu mu, travel insurance and a ticket to Paris. Skip the fashion show and find the closest boulangerie.