The week so far

I’ve been a bit out of touch with my blogging the last few weeks. Even behind on my reading a bit :( Mainly because I’ve been spending a lot of time doing some freelance work. So you know in between work and well, more work after work I haven’t had much time to write for myself. But it’s cool, I love my freelance work :)

Anyway, so this week hasn’t been the best. Mainly because of ex-Cyclone Oswald deciding to pay Queensland a visit. We had incessant rain on Australia Day but it was still no warning for what was to come. Then on Sunday the weather started getting a little crazier and by night time it was full blown out of its mind. The wind was nothing like I’ve ever seen, felt or heard before. Things were rattling and falling off shelves. The skylight in my bathroom fell through and smashed on the ground and everything put together, I was so on edge.

Storms normally don’t scare me but this one was different. I didn’t sleep well at all that night. At about 7am on Monday, J got out of bed worrying that the wooden fence in our backyard may have gotten blown away but although battered, it was still hanging on. But then we looked over to the other side which is part brick, part fence and the entire brick wall had fallen over!

The sight on Monday morning :(

 It was the biggest shock and the weather on Monday was so bad it didn’t do anything to ease our worries. The only consolation was that it was public holiday and we didn’t have to leave the house in that weather. On top of the things-falling-apart drama, we also lost power late Sunday night. This meant our phones were also barely charged. Not that it mattered because we barely had any signal anyway. It was quite surreal feeling being so cut off with no news, no phones, no social media.

We spent about half an hour in the pouring rain on Monday night putting up a piece of tarp to cover up the space left by the now missing wall. Luckily (and thanks to the hard working peeps at Energex) we got electricity back at about 8:30pm and were able to have a hot shower. But sleep was still elusive.

My suburb and the next suburb up from me got very badly battered over this last weekend. My local beach is looking very beatdown and forlorn. Gold Coast beaches in general look sad and dirty, very dirty. As do the roads, because of all the debris lying around.

Wait, it doesn’t there though. On Tuesday evening, we could feel something was wrong with J’s car. Another problem we didn’t need. Got that fixed on Wednesday and it was closely followed by more bad news. A tile has blown off the roof and there is now a leak as a result.

You have got to be kidding me.

It’s Thursday and while the weather is still PMSing between hot and humid and raining cats and dogs, nothing else has gone wrong. Yet.  As for us, we are ok. Physically of course we were unharmed but mentally we are both just so exhausted.

There are people in so many other parts of Queensland such as Bundaberg and even Brisbane who were affected much worse than J and me and my heart really goes out to them. I feel so sad thinking about all the people whose homes have been destroyed and for some of them they have barely recovered from the 2011 floods and it’s hitting them again.

From heatwaves to cyclones. I’m not sure what Mother Nature has in store for Australia next?

Get your tits out girls

Read this article then weep. And weep some more. For feminism. For women.

My favourite bit?

"And when it comes to the workplace, despite the fight for equal pay and equal rights, some women (many women) know that a good push-up bra is a better investment than any PhD."

Thanks Sammy B. So you're saying I should have spent a few hundred dollars on lingerie instead of spending so many years, thousands of dollars and so much time on my education? Wow, I sure have my sense of achievement all mixed up.

The general response to the article has no doubt been outrage.  Yet, on Twitter I have seen so many women say things to the effect of: "What's the big deal" or "It's ridiculous...but it's true. Ladies should use what their mama gave them". To those women, I say THANK YOU for taking women (everywhere) further back into the dark ages and for furthering the cause for sexism. Now please, shut up.

I'm not naive. Getting your tits out to get up the proverbial ladder is the oldest trick in the book. And it happens everywhere, I know that. Sexist pigs who don't think women have brains obviously only pay attention when you rock a bit of cleavage. Unfortunately, there are women who simply pander to this archaic sexist way of thinking and use their umm..."assets" to..how do they say it.. "to their advantage" (vomit).

In other words, they're saying to men "Ok, I get you like to objectify women. So let's just not worry about the fact that I have a Master's degree and am probably smarter than you because you know, I have boobs. So here's my cleavage. Oh and I'll throw in my sexy bum and my long, toned legs too. Now how about that promotion? I've earned it on my own merit right?"

Your merit drank itself to a depressing death the moment you started thinking about "using your assets to your advantage". I know it's a man's world and a woman's gotta do what a woman's gotta do. But you know what a woman's gotta do? Stand up and say it's not okay. Say, "Hey douchebag I ain't got no cleavage for you. But hey guess what, I do have the qualifications and the experience. NOW how about that promotion?"

If you think you're doing the SMART thing for your career by giving in to sexist pigs, you've probably looked up the wrong dictionary for the meaning of smart. If you are moving up that workplace ladder thanks to your boob-baring skills, you're a sexism enabler. It fails to be an achievement then. It fails because if it were you vs a man, it wasn't a fair fight. It was your ta-tas vs his brains.  I'd say it'd be a fair fight when it was brains vs brains and you get picked over the man, because of your smarts. Because you're equal. Then we have a real case of achievement in our (what often seems like) never-ending fight for equality in the workplace, at home, in the world.

So my titty-flaunting sisters, the next time you high five yourself for your win over a man and doing your bit for women's equality, please, STOP. We'll take it from here.

#NaBloPoMo: An (opposite of) Ode to Bras

I'm a bra girl. I am a firm believer of keeping your girls under control whenever you leave the house. I will put a bra on even if it's just to go pick up the Thai takeaway.

When I first started wearing a bra, I used to sleep in it. Can you imagine the horror of it? I was sure if I took my bra off for too long, my boobs would become ginormous overnight and I didn't want that kind of attention I decided. For a large part of my teenage years I wore a sports bra over my bra so I'd hide any hint of curves and look as flat-chested as possible. I know, I had issues.

I like my boobs now but they're still restrained in public. I will never buy a dress or top if I can't figure out how to wear a bra under it. I once fell in love with a dress with a very low back and questioned the bra placement. My friend said I'd have to go braless and that's where my love story with the dress ended. Braless? In public? Umm, no. I'm much too prudish in this regard. Some people do "no bra" dresses very well but I'm just not one of those girls.

This obsession with bra wearing isn't because I love bras. I loathe them. I wear them because of my aforementioned issues with Freedom of Breast-spression but the best part of my day is coming home and taking it off. Unhook, slide strap off and slither arm under, repeat with other arm. Grab bra from under sleeve and yank out. Bra gone. You know the drill. If you're in a strapless, even better - you can take the damn thing off in one swift motion! The pleasure of being unrestrained is unexplainable to a man. It's probably how they feel about going commando but it's not quite the same. Their privates aren't strapped in, they're simply held in place.

Weekends are good. You can be bra-less and 100% mark-free for longer. If we don't particularly have to be somewhere on a Saturday night, the decision making process often goes like this:

"Going out involves wearing a bra (and possibly heels too). Is the place cool enough/ is the food good enough to warrant giving up my bra-less state?"

Often, going bra-free wins over going out. Sad, I know. Old people like, I know. But honestly, sometimes it's really not worth the effort. Don't deny it ladies!

And then there's also the misery of washing them. Honestly, bras have been around FOREVER, so have washing machines. Why hasn't someone come up with a way to throw your bras in the washing machine without worrying it will come out mangled and shapeless? I have the additional misery of having to hand wash my sports bras as well. 2 bras per day, every day. Where's a maid when you need one?

Bra shopping? Don't even get me started. It's right up there with jeans shopping and bikini shopping. If you want your boobies well protected, you want to invest in a decent pair. But decent pairs are expensive. Plenty of cheap bras at Best & Less to choose from, I know. But then your girls will be more Less, less Best. Never mind that irrespective of price tag, finding a pair that fits just the way you want is just too much to ask for. I told you, don't get me started.

Dear "bra-burning" Feminists (forgive the cliched myth but it was necessary in this context), I totes get it. It's oppression and I want out. Literally.

And no, don't say it. I'm not going to wear an Ahhh Bra.

*This post is part of the November NaBloPoMo blogging challenge.

#NaBloPoMo: In which I get a tad defensive

I exercise. A lot. Many of my friends don't understand it. They tell me "but you don't need to lose weight."

But when did I say anything about losing weight?

Exercising for me is not fuelled by the need to lose weight but by the fear my heart will stop pumping one of these days and I will fall off the face of the earth. You see, poor cardiovascular health is a multi-generational inheritance in my family. Fear is a pretty strong motivator. Also seeing the definition in my quads and shoulder muscles is an added bonus. ;-)

Obviously, eating is also part of the big "Beat the Impending Heart Attack Plan". I eat healthy, very healthy. (There, I said it) I look at the back of packets to see the fat content, % of sugar, artificial ingredients etc. I buy the wholegrain / low fat/ less sugar version of most foods. I eat "hipster" food like quinoa, buckwheat noodles, rye wraps and stoneground 85% wholemeal bread. I cook at least 5 times a week, if not 6 - mostly because I struggle to find healthy takeaway food that doesn't cost the moon and the stars.

This is where most people start rolling their eyes because this "healthy eating" translates to living off salad and veggies only. This is followed by feeling sorry for me and my deprived food choices and very often even judging me as vain.

But I don't understand it. If you know me even a little bit you will know how much I LOVE my food and live for it (see my Instagram for proof) so why do you feel sorry for me? Healthy eating is more than salads. Because food is so important to me, I cook really delicious meals that are also healthy. I have an emotional relationship with food so I always cook food I enjoy eating so please, don't worry I'm not depriving myself. I just know how to cook food that will not clog up my arteries and kill me.

I'm aware that I sound a bit like a privileged whinger banging on about health, fitness and other buzzwords. But I'm not. I don't normally talk about my fitness or my food with people because you see it's no one else's business. I don't try to get anyone to think the way I do and don't judge anyone for eating differently or for choosing a different lifestyle. But a few things have happened lately that have made me feel very…judged. So I figured I'd vent and defend my choices because hey you know what? It's my body so these are my choices and I'll get sexy thigh muscles if I want them dammit!

*This post is part of the November NaBloPoMo blogging challenge.