Most of my adult life I have endured being stared at. It’s unnerving. People really have a good look at me in public. I am so used to it now I barely notice, but when I was a teenager it was a constant source of anxiety. It made me feel like a freak.
It’s the most powerful word in human language. ‘Yes’ says I am open. ‘Yes’ says that you will accept the views of another. ‘Yes’ gives permission. ‘Yes’ opens doors.
I don’t know who is doing Turmeric’s publicity, but can I have their number? I reckon if I could get the same person to promote me I might finally crack it.
It’s always humbling to discover that your kid is more switched on than you are. I get so caught up with the mundanity of my daily life that I forget to be wise.
I hate Fathers Day. And it’s not just because I had a violent alcoholic dad who drove drunk into an oncoming vehicle when I was six. Although it did make the clay coil ashtray with ‘Best Dad in the World’ I made him at school a bit redundant.
This week I didn’t wear any makeup. I never don’t wear makeup. It’s been a bit of a challenge. It wasn’t a choice. It was a directive.
With the conversation raging once again about marriage equality and dear Malcolm offering us the most watered-down version of a plebiscite he could muster (his preferred option was not actually a postal vote, it was carrier pigeons.
I’ve committed. Again. I’m going back to the gym. The place I swore I’d never step foot in. I’ve thought about it for about three years now so I guess it’s time.
Last week one of Australia’s most important musicians died. He didn’t trade on rockstar sexuality. He made money but he didn’t buy fancy cars or expensive real estate – his money went back to his community
Sometimes it’s hard to be kind. Often it’s inconvenient. It can cause discomfort. And it can disturb your daily trajectory.
It’s 6.10am. My leg is touching his. I look at his thigh as it presses against mine. Who would have thought our relationship was going to get this physical this soon? Our shoulders brush.
For everyone who has a bucket list of shit they want to do, there is another bucket list full of shit they don’t want to ever do. On the top of my ‘shit I never want to do’ list was ‘go on a cruise’. Last week I went on a cruise.
Right now in Byron Shire there are more potholes than actual road surface. There are people from Main Arm who haven’t been sighted for weeks, suspicion being that, like Alice from Wonderland, they’ve fallen into one and disappeared completely.
Five years ago my husband and I built a six-bedroom house. After years of stacking kids two deep per room, we graduated from lower middle class to the ripening affluence of a family where everyone had their own bedrooms.
Meet Barry. He likes to wank at the beach. No, that’s not a typo. I didn’t mean to say walk. Walking isn’t Barry’s thing.
Tell anyone you’re feeling a bit overwhelmed and you get the same response: ‘You should try mindfulness’. Shit, I was hoping they’d offer to do my washing, or cook me dinner.
Like him or loathe him, Donald Trump is King of the Western World. The big orange hamster has found himself on his very own wheel of good fortune, and as Emperor of All he’s fast-tracking the rest of the world to what feels an awful lot like ‘the end of days’.
In the next six weeks three of my daughters will be heading overseas for around six months each. It’s a nerve-wracking time for a parent and so far I’ve only had one major piece of advice to give them. Don’t be a drug mule.
My neck got old. I don’t know how it happened but it seems to have aged. Possibly in dog years. It doesn’t make sense. I don’t remember abusing my neck. Not in the way I’ve abused my liver, my arse or my face.
Today Ivy asked me what Botox is. She’s eight. She’d found a humorous card on my bookshelf that depicts a 1950s mother and daughter with the caption ‘You’re never too young for Botox!’. She wanted to know (a) what is Botox and (b) should she be having it?
I hate Mothers Day. I hate the picture of motherhood that shows a nice neat mum smiling beatifically on worming medication or holding hands with her family while wearing a white t-shirt and jeans and running on the beach. I don’t do that. I don’t know any mums who do that shit.
Albert Einstein once said, ‘The definition of insanity is repeating the same thing over and over and expecting different results’.
I’m imagining the song from Frozen where Elsa sings ‘Do you want to build a snow man’. Except in my mind, it’s not the snow, but she’s playing in one of those play parks but the climbing frame isn’t a climbing frame, it’s your DNA.
Good-looking people get away with more than ugly people. It’s a fact. The only people who wouldn’t agree with this are beautiful people. But that’s because they’ve been batting their long lashes and getting away with murder for years.
I did the washing. The four words you don’t want to hear from your husband. I was only gone one day. Why would he do that? After eight years of zero masculine activity in the laundry, why would my husband... Read More →