Things you probably don’t know about me.

I have a million blog posts floating around in my pretty-little-head, all of which are too introspective, profound or unformed at this point for me to write articulately about. So I figured I would write the least profound post that is in me to write – a little about me.

1. I am getting married ridiculously soon.
2. I am not a morning person. I am definitely a night owl.
3. In fact when left entirely to my own devices with no responsibilities I wake at 11am and sleep at 4am.
4. No one has ever figured out what colour my eyes are. Blue, green, blue-green or blue-grey.
5. I make pretty shit-hot brownies. Over the weekend a naked man told me so. Really.
6. I will do pretty much anything for honey saffron chocolates.
7. Diets don’t work for me. My body and I are on much better terms when I respect and fuel her.
8. I used to sing. I wasn’t half bad either.
9. The song I sing most now is twinkle twinkle.
10. As hard as I try I simply cannot understand men.
11. Anything I can’t understand bugs hell out of me.
12. I swear entirely too much. So I cringe now that my son has reached the mimicking phase.
13. I have studied mediumship, seership and card reading. Not kidding.
14. I started meditating just after I turned 15.
15. A decade of meditation has mellowed me, but I still have quite a temper when you get me mad.
16. I don’t hold grudges. But I learn my lesson.
17. I used to have a side of the bed… now so long as I have a comfy pillow I’m happy.
18. I can rock hats, sunnies and fascinators, but I find it hard to find shoes to suit my feet.
19. My phone is perpetually nearly flat. I can’t work out if that is because I use to so much or if I don’t charge my phone often enough.
20. I am like Sheldon when it comes to my seat on the couch.
21. I am a sucker for tattoos (tasteful), facial hair (stylish stubble or a sexy beard) and strong hands.
22. I have worn fishnets, wings, a dog collar and a halo. But not all at once. And not all for fancy dress.
23. My favourite piece of fashion are my pink pumps. I love them so much I am wearing them to my wedding.
24. I have scars, stretch marks and a ‘cherry spot’ birth mark.
25. I have sucked snot from my sick infants nose, and yet olives still make me gag.
26. I have one younger sister and two girlfriends I would fly to their side anywhere in the world if they asked.
27. So, I kind of have 3 sisters.
28. I was born on the same day (not year) as Audrey Hepburn.
29. The simplest things soothe my soul. The sound and smell of the beach, rain, a full moon, a gentle kiss, a cup of tea, a great song.
30. I love quotes. These are my current faves:

• • A woman can say more in a sigh than a man can say in a sermon. ~Arnold Haultain
  • Never grow a wishbone, daughter, where your backbone ought to be. ~ Clementine Paddelford
  • A woman who cannot be ugly is not beautiful. ~Karl Kraus

Lets talk about… body modification

This is such a wide and diverse topic. Controversial. Like boiling a frog we are comfortable with the gentle cooler manifestations of the practice, but are we in danger of boiling alive as the accepted mutilations become more extreme?

Body modification is defined as the deliberate altering of the human body for non-medical reasons, such as sexual enhancement, a rite of passage, aesthetic reasons or self-expression.

Most of us think of female genital mutilation or facial piercing when we think of body modification. But these are only the more extreme manifestations of a sliding scale. Cutting our hair and piercing our ears don’t really register as body modification, but indeed they are. The list of body modifications the ‘regular’ western woman may willfully undergo, many on a regular basis, is huge:

1. Hair cut
2. Hair perm
3. Hair straightening
4. Hair colouring
5. Eyebrow shape
6. Underarm hair removal
7. Leg hair removal
8. Pubic hair removal
9. Arm/face hair removal
10. Manicure
11. Pedicure
12. Tanning/ Melanin pills
13. Ear piercing
14. Belly piercing
15. Tattooing
16. Breast implants/Breast lift
17. Tummy tuck
18. Liposuction
19. Botox
20. Tattooed makeup

I know I am ‘guilty’ of a number of the above. I don’t know a woman who isn’t. Even my grandma vainly perms her hair and during the second world war stained her legs to mimic the appearance of her absent stockings. We do these things of our own volition - willingly following the conventions of our culture. Endlessly making ourselves more attractive to our desired mates. Continually pandering to, for the most part, the male gaze.

We do it to feel beautiful, often without thought as to why these arbitrary characteristics are deemed beautiful. Why is it that perky breasts, shaven armpits and pubic mounds are beautiful when they effectively rob a woman of her womanhood and visually return her to the realm of a child. Are women more attractive when they appear less fertile, less powerful?

We do it because it is what women do, unaware of the point when we made the decision that these standards are sufficiently important they are worth painfully or permanently altering our bodies to achieve them. How is this forgotten decision any different from mothers in Cameroon who Iron their pubescent daughters’ breasts with hot stones? Or the 2 million mothers world-wide who help hold down their daughters as their clitoris is removed, by way of an initiation into womanhood and to curb their sexual desires (often with no anesthetic).

Yes these are extreme, but the recent internal bra (soon to become a part of a breast lift) is equally as painful and unnecessary. It is only more palatable to our delicate sensibilities because it is performed by doctors in hospitals on consenting adults.

My question is this: If clitorises were removed, in the pristine theater of a renown plastic surgeon, would we find it any less offensive?

Lets talk about…Hair

Hair is such a trivial issue in some people eyes. Yet ask any woman the easiest way to make her feel sexy and I guarantee a fabulous new haircut is high on her list. In fact I know a couple who consistently have ‘haircut sex’ when she comes home with a new do. I have spoken to women undergoing treatment for cancer, they cope with the fact that they lose their hair as it is preferable to losing their lives. But they find it much more difficult to get in touch with their inner sex goddess.

Indeed hair is so integral to the visual concept of femininity that the icon for woman is distinguished from a man by one of two things – a dress, or long hair. Unconsciously we make assumption about women, especially, by their hair. On a side note we do the same about men, salt and pepper is distinguished, bald is less virile, long and curly like my partner is seen as less conventional. And there is a reason why so many male fantasies about women involve healthy, shiny flowing hair. It is iconically feminine. (Not to say women with shaved heads or pixie cuts are somehow less of a sexy woman.)

What isn’t factored into our identities is that our hair is linked to our hormones. As our hormones change so does our hair. You remember how greasy your hair got during puberty don’t you? And the exciting or terrifying advent of pubic hair that puberty bought with it. The same is true as you get older. Your skin, hair and nails look amazing when pregnant due, in part, to the different hormones your body is producing. And also because you don’t lose much hair when pregnant, so your mane becomes thicker and glossier.

Then during menopause everything goes to hell in a handbag. Not only are you more likely to cut your hair, if not from the social pressure not to appear mutton dressed up as lamb, out of necessity as hot flushes and night sweats make your locks a giant sweat trap. Worse than this your hair may thin or grey or both – seen as the ultimate sin for women. The hair from your head may reappear in blemishes or moles or on your chin, as the archetype of crone becomes manifest in your body. A process that should be revered for its significance, is instead demonised as we unfairly expect crones to appear maidens. Because we are uncomfortable with female wisdom perhaps??

I discovered today that even your eyebrow hairs grow at strange and wonderful angles as you age. I would like to be able to look forward to my gracefully aging body as opposed to lamenting the direction my eyebrow hair grows. How about you?

Musings on Grace

I firmly believe that it takes a village to raise a child. In a ‘village’ children grow up at the feet of elders, learning vital lessons. Adults in a ‘village’ mentor and teach adolescents, instructing them in the skills and knowledge that they will need to contribute to the village in adulthood. Sadly I feel that my generation grew up largely without that village. This is not a criticism of our for-mothers; they were focused on creating a society where we (as women) would be valued as equals. It is because of them that we have an opportunity now to instruct the daughters of our new ‘village’ in all the skills of an adult and not just half of them.

As a result of growing up without the village microcosm we are drastically short of role models we can aspire to emulate, again not because our mothers are not ‘role models’ but because our paths are likely to be very different to theirs. Young women are in search of mentors and are coming up short. The ‘self help’ genre is growing exponentially as women reach out for help, desperately craving guidance and support.

I am fortunate in that I have had the loving guidance of mentors throughout my journey thus far. There is no substitute for experience; lessons only become permanent when one has lived them and been transformed by the experience. But the transformation isn’t automatic, the generation of women who repeatedly turn to inappropriate relationships, emotional eating and ‘retail therapy’ are a testament to that. The disconnect is that the skills necessary to courageously face life, walk towards our dreams and learn from adversity were the ones we never learnt at the feet of our elders.

We identify women of grace that we wish to grow like, but lack the vocabulary to identify what it is about their person that we value. The closest words we have to describe what it is we want are; beauty, respect, success and charisma. So we blindly stumble in search of what we think will bring us these; physical ‘perfection’, celebrity and the adoration of men. But we have the cart before the horse. Celebrity (lasting celebrity and not infamy) and adoration are the by-products of a life lived gracefully with purpose.

The deceptive nature of grace is that it ‘appears’ effortless. It seems as though it is a gift bestowed at birth when it is an attitude and a set of skills. Grace is a carriage, a way of being, that has nothing to do with external beauty. Though a graceful woman does possess a ‘glow’ that is often mistaken for, or perceived as beauty. There are guidelines, tools and secrets that graceful women live by and demonstrate, that when applied to our lives, transform them as though they have been bewitched by a fairy godmother’s wand.

This year I am working on embodying grace a little more… what about you?

5 steps to feeling great in your skin

What has been niggling at you for months? Is it an item on your ‘to-do’ list that gets transferred from list to list when everything else has been checked off? It it something you haven’t dared to even put on the list? Something that you haven’t even admitted that you want?

I want a new wardrobe. Not the structure to put clothes in, but the fashions to fill it with. I have clothes, tonnes of clothes in fact, but I don’t wear many of them. My wardrobe consists predominately of clothes I can breastfeed in or the crap that I haven’t sent to charity that I was wearing over 2 years ago, before I fell pregnant. So as you can imagine my wardrobe is full of stunning dresses, silks, delicate embroidery, tailored pants, flirty skirts and fitted jackets – NOT! My wardrobe has way more stretch cotton than should belong to one woman and is mostly a few basic colours that wash well and work with tan skirts or jeans.

To make my wardrobe woes worse, my body is alien. The pants I wore pre-pregnancy are too big now and the tops from the same era and way too small. (Pretty much everything else stretches, so it still fits). My hips and thighs need a L, my waist is a M and my bust is somewhere between an XL and an XXL, depending on the store and the cut. So most of the time I aim for ‘presentable’ or ‘good’ and try to avoid looking like Betty Boop.

I would really like a wardrobe that is classic, effortless, comfortable and flattering. Clothes I can wear to a café, to see a client and take the baby to the park all in a day. Why does this blog find a home in the category of personal development I hear you ask? Because I deserve clothes that make me feel good. So do you. There is nothing wrong with wanting your clothes, and indeed your style, to reflect your personality. There is no hard and fast rule, despite the glossies telling us otherwise, that says that you must be a size 0 or even a size 4 to look and feel good. Our bodies are wonderful pieces of kit – we will never own anything as versatile, useful and fun as our bodies so lets celebrate them.

As a coach I feel it is important to follow-up each epiphany with action steps. So here are my steps that I think would work for just about anybody:

1. Make a rough list of what I wear from my wardrobe (DONE)
2. Make a list of what is missing to mix and match with existing pieces to make desired wardrobe (DONE)
3. Go through existing clothes, sort out what the keep, what to throw out, what to pass to charity and what to gift to friends (like the stunning designer gown my bust no longer fits in)
4. Book an appointment (in the new year) with a stylist to do my colours and styles. (I am desperate to work with Coby from Stylewish and if you are a Sydney local you should check her out too.)
5. Go shopping! Gradually….

We might even save money by avoiding purchases that we won’t wear more than once, time in looking for clothes because we know what we are looking for and avoid horrifying fashion mistakes. That is my justification and I am sticking to it

*This blog was not a paid recommendation

Bras

Our bras, ladies say a lot about us. Any male readers already know this. And, no, I don’t mean that a red bra says  that you’re sexy and a tan bra means your boring or safe. The print, colour and material of your bras are a personal choice – that’s not what I’m talking about.

Your bra supports your breasts. Yes, thank you captain obvious. Our breasts are, for most women, integral to their sense of femininity. You disagree? Speak to a women who has undergone a mastectomy or women who has had a breast reduction about how the operation has affected their femininity. Our breasts are a sensual, integral part of our womanhood.

Just writing those words I feel the wave of resistance and objections flying at me through the web. But, I honestly believe it is true. I hated my breasts for as long as I can remember. They were always too big, too saggy, too heavy. That was even before I fell pregnant and then they were too sensitive, too sore and downright enormous – no stores would stock bras in my size (Yes my partner was stoked, I on the other hand broke down in tears right there in the store). Breastfeeding is another saga altogether. All I am saying is that I hear your objections, but accepting my breasts feels better.

We are taught that our breasts are only beautiful if they look plastic. We are not taught how to appreciate our breasts. They are soft and warm, regardless of the weather your breasts radiate heat. The skin is some of the softest on our bodies. They are capable of pleasure and adorned with our glamest top and stunning beads they can be hypnotizing – regardless of their size. There is so much to love about our breasts aside from their size and shape, but alas, they are most womens’ hang-ups.

I was buying new bras on the weekend and can vouch that a great bra can boost your self esteem and totally change your figure. But what shocked me were the conversations I was overhearing in the change room. 3 women were being properly fitted by professionals. Each of the women was recommended a bra and a size that would fit them perfectly. Each woman chose a different bra to the recommendations. Why? Because they were planning on losing weight and so preferred to squish their breasts into a too small bra than to have a bra that was too big if and when they lost weight.

Isn’t that insane? To me it’s like saying ‘no’ to a date with the man of your dreams today, because you are planning on snagging the perpetual bachelor George Clooney next month! The likelihood that these women (none of whom looked at all overweight) would ever be truly happy with their weight and body shape is arguably slim. I mean, are you? But still they, and indeed so many of ‘us’, would prefer to continue to strive and punish ourselves trying to fit into an imaginary ideal than to work what we have.

What I am really trying to say: Give up the need for it to be different to what it is. Love what you have got, work what you have got. You will loose it one day and wish you had treated it better and enjoyed it more.

Fascinating

Capable of arousing and holding attention.

Capturing interest as if by a spell – bewitching.

I don’t know a woman who wouldn’t love to be considered a ‘fascinating woman’. The art of captivating others is more than a charming skill; it is a quality of spirit. There is no higher compliment, no greater task than to be so authentically you in all your intricacies that others feel compelled to watch, to be near you, to learn what it is that makes you tick.

The catch 22 is that if you are concerned with charming others, being the life of the party, being liked, being admired & being interesting then you are probably not being authentic. You may however come across as 2 dimensional, a try hard and particularly non-fascinating.

A truly fascinating woman is happy to follow her desires. She speaks her mind. She expresses her authentic emotions. She is high maintenance. She is unapologetically herself. She is not consistent. She doesn’t pander to popular opinion. She goes with the flow, but not necessarily the flow of the masses. She is unafraid of upsetting others, but she is not intentionally inflammatory.

The trick is that most of us modern women lack some of the foundational keystones to being a fascination woman; being self assured and the ability to flow with our feminine nature.

I know I am not the only one guilty of listening to a band, or reading a book (or even pretending we have) because it is so very chic’. So many women dutifully trawl the magazine pages to construct their wardrobes. Forgetting that, dressing to suit their personalities and shapes, the style icons didn’t follow trends – they started them. We adopt a seriousness designed for the workplace and allow it to permeate other areas of our lives and end up allowing that very seriousness to extinguish our playfulness. In the end we look like we stepped from a magazine spread, drinking cosmos in a tight little huddle as we compare, contrast and analyse the men in the bar as opposed to chatting to them.

A fascinating woman is mysterious, but not unattainable. She is open and warm. She radiates a vibe that draws others to her; it is possible effortless to talk to her. Fascinating women are interested in others and are great conversationalists because they don’t give everything away.

Fascinating is the reason I think we have the best night when it is not planned and that we tend to attract a man when we aren’t looking for one. When we are happy being ourselves with reckless abandon, when we aren’t worried about what others think of us & when we aren’t trying to change the situation we are fascinating.

Quarter-Life consolidation

I am sitting on the couch in front of my beloved laptop thinking, desperately thinking of a reason to celebrate. You see I just poured myself a class of bubbly. I wanted a glass of wine to go with my chocolate but there was no open bottle so I settle for a piccolo of Champagne that has been sitting in the fridge since my baby was born. I am drinking it out of the only Champagne flute I own which is oh so tackily decorated with glittery hearts and a big number 18; a memento from my 18^th birthday.

Queue my favorite CD refusing to play. So I’m forced to go and get the only CD’s that don’t live in the garage. An old CD wallet from when I was 18. Maybe 18 is the theme here; except I celebrated my 18^th 7 years ago. I am turning 25.

Yes I am ‘still young’ and yes I am often told I am ‘old for my years’. The essence of it though is that I have made more mistakes and navigated more emotional minefields than some twice my age. Here are my humble observations and lessons hard won from the past quarter century:

1. I feel much better when I sing out loud
2. Less is more
3. I am not defined by my resume, address, job, family, my body or anything else
4. Flaws are beautiful. Curves are sexy
5. You don’t always get what you want; which is great because what we ‘want’ usually isn’t what will make us truly happy
6. Life is too short not to eat chocolate
7. Its not daggy to love old music; ok it is but I don’t care
8. Unless a single look from your man makes you feel secure; he isn’t the one for you
9. Fixing the world isn’t my responsibility. Tending to my corner of it is.
10. Cooking is easy once you know how
11. I always have a choice
12. ‘hating’ isn’t helpful
13. Our parent’s did the best they could; just as I do for my son
14. Friendship is a priceless gift and its worth working for
15. I always have enough money but sometimes I spend it on the wrong things
16. You never see yourself for what you are; that comes with hindsight
17. No-one is a mind reader. If you need it or want it ask!
18. There is no ‘right way’. There is however ‘my way’
19. Experience is truly the best teacher
20. If everybody likes you; you’re probably not really being true to yourself
21. Sometimes the best thing to do is nothing
22. There is a difference between judgment and discernment
23. Fears are tissue paper thin. Once you do it you wonder what you were afraid of
24. Time doesn’t heal all wounds. Forgiveness does.
25. Sex is definitely better than chocolate; I don’t care how good the chocolate is

I will probably disagree with many of these in another 25 years and laugh at my youthful naivete. We’ll see.

A step in the right direction

I am beginning to believe that we no longer know what a woman’s body looks like. It sounds like I am about to begin a soap-box tirade about the beauty myth and the beauty industry and honestly- I’m not. That argument has gotten old. We all know that the current idea of ‘beauty’ is unrealistic. If that is news to you let me know what rock you have been hiding under – it is the best hiding spot on the planet.

The practices of digitally re-creating already beautiful women has been the subject of many an expose. As Jennifer Romolini of Shine put it recently:

We know you attach your cover models’ heads to skinnier bodies. We know you slim down their thighs and their noses and you lighten their skin. We know you smooth out all of the facial “imperfections” that make them look human. We’re tired of fembots. We can handle the truth.

I couldn’t agree more. I would postulate that many of us don’t know what a real woman’s body looks like anymore. We all (most women I know) believe our bodies are freakishly abnormal in some way; lamenting the ways we don’t live up to the impossible ideal. Understandably so, when the only comparisons we have are to catwalk models, photo-shopped magazine shoots or surgically enhanced porn stars.

While I can appreciate the beauty of the images we are presented I challenge that they represent any reality that can be maintained without cosmetic surgery, specialist make-up artists, stylists, lighting designers, control underwear, dietitians, chefs, personal trainers and often retouching professionals. Even the images touted as ‘natural’ often need a handful of professionals to create.

In a culture that could almost do away with real women in favour of infinitely more perfect digitally created ones, I take my hat off to French Elle and the amazing women who chose to pose as their real selves. April’s issue of Elle celebrates women in their true beauty; no makeup and no retouching. Granted the (brave and inspiring) women are lit beautifully by talented lighting designers and the photographer is worth his/her weight in gold and they are wearing loose clothes that hide the so-called ‘imperfections’ of a real woman’s body, but heck they look like a woman should!

I am looking forward to Australian and American publications following this example and wistfully dreaming of the day when it is accepted that real women have bellies & stretchmarks*, asymmetrical breasts**, blemishes and beautiful intricacies.

* & **Please note that these links contain images of partial, tasteful & non-sexual, nudity that may not be appropriate for viewing at work or by sensative readers.