I'm Too Beautiful To Work

It's come to my attention that there are women who are too "good looking" to work. And it is for that reason I have decided not to work today. And neither should you.

Have a nice day

bigwords x

The Body Image

When I stand in the mirror getting dressed in the morning I often touch myself. I scoop my boobs into my hands and push them upwards. I admire how'd they'd look if firm and round. I try and remember if they ever were perky. I suspect not. They are anything but that now.

I pull tight at my flabby belly. I stretch the skin taut and suck my tummy in. I stand sideways wondering if my top would sit better if I didn't look five months pregnant. I stand on tippy toes, pull my shoulders back, stick my chest out and try and decipher what postural stance makes me look slimmer.

Then I move my face closer to the mirror. I scan it for unwanted hair. I cringe at the state of my fluffy, unkept, uneven eyebrows. I run my fingers over my wrinkles and make a mental note to cover-up my latest outbreak of pimples. As I age, my skin reflects that of a pimply teenage boy. No-one warned me of this.

I get dressed. Sometimes I undress and dress myself a number of times until I'm satisfied. Sometimes I'm never satisfied, but do not have a magical wardrobe which opens into a clothes store, so just have to  suck it up. Or if we have the money and I have the time, I buy something when I duck out to do the supermarket shopping and hide it in my handbag. Not so much because my husband would nag me, more so because I want to somehow trick myself. I know it doesn't make sense, I seldom do.

I wonder if it's an age thing or an insecurity thing or a stupid narcissist problem I have to get over. I do know that I've always stood in front of the mirror and wondered how I could change myself - my nose, my curly hair, my ample arse. I don't hate myself, I just have an issue with wanting what I don't have. Selfish, when others have nothing. My problems of body image is insignificant in the scheme of things. I know this.

I'm approaching 40, I keep waiting for the lightbulb moment where I start running and eating raw food. Aren't I meant to be drawing up a list of the 40 things I want to do before I'm 40? People tell me I'm entering a phase of acceptance and power. I wonder if that is a gradual realisation or if I'll just go cold turkey on hanging shit on my wobbly body?

For now though, I'll still stand in front of the mirror assessing myself. Squeezing and pulling and squishing, while I dream about a body that is impossible, because even when I did have THAT body I wasn't content. Round and round it goes.

bigwords x

David Beckham Retires. I Sob.

Today is a sad day for David Beckham enthusiasts. Today, he officially played his last game of football.  Rumours are he will be knighted before the end of the year. I didn't think it was possible for him to get any hotter, but Sir David Beckham does have a nice ring to it.

I think this deserves a photo montage.

What a stellar career you've had. I can not wait to see more of you in the future. 

I'm pretty sure I'm not alone in this desire.

bigwords x

I Have A Bad Case of Hair Envy

After yesterday's post I thought it best I steer clear of controversy while I catch my breath. In fact, I've gone completely vapid. Today I've written about another topic very dear to my heart - my hair. Yep, you read right. You see I've had many, many, many haircuts over the years.

Just over one year ago I had thick, long hair.

And then it happened. I got bored. All I ever did was get up and pop it into a pony tail. I felt "Mumsy". So, I decided to get a cut and hair colour.

Then I a ditched the ombré look and got a big fringe.

Then a shoulder-length bob.

Then I went a little shorter, then a little shorter, until... I suddenly had a pixie cut.

(Lucky I'm a narcissistic blogger who takes loads of selfies)

I really loved it, but then it happened again - I got bored AGAIN. But aside from going blonde or red, I had nowhere to turn. Now, I am in the midst of the dreaded in-between stage.

And this is where the hair envy comes into play. I keep seeing people with the hair I want. I stop and stare at them. I look at websites and save photos of celebrities and look at them, in the hope of one day being able to take said photos to my amazing hairdresser. I miss my hair.

Tell me I'm not alone. Do you do this? Do you grow your hair and then cut it all off and then grow it again? Do you do that over and over and over like me?

bigwords x

Ps: Thanks everyone for your support and lovely messages.

John Laws Eat Your Heart Out

Today Mia Freedman crossed the line. She wrote a piece which was so purposefully inflammatory it was shameful. Of course she's in the business of creating discussion. There'd be no point in writing columns for your website without causing controversy because, let's face it, you wouldn't get any hits and revenue would suffer.

I have a lot of respect for Mia. She's worked darn hard to build her brand. She gives many women voices. She provides a platform to discuss issues pertinent to women which are often ignored by mainstream media. I believe she gets an unfair share of vitriol. However, I do not always agree with her, in fact I often disagree with her. We come from different lives, different perspectives. That's cool. The world would be a boring place if we all agreed all of the time. But I do not think she is stupid, nor ignorant. So, today when she wrote this article - "The Boy Who Cried 'Racist'" I was disappointed in her, to say the least.

This column was offensive on so many levels. Blackface is racist. Full stop. There's no excuses for it. There's no excuses for condoning it or retweeting it. To say someone "cried racist" is abhorrent. And here's what I want to take aim at - I believe Mia knows all of that. I believe Mia wrote that entire column because she knew it would cause an uproar. I wouldn't be surprised if she hasn't already written her tearful apology as well as commissioned a prominent member of Australia's indigenous community to write a thoughtful piece about why racism is still entrenched in our modern culture - because it is. Maybe she's even got a re-education campaign, to run alongside a paid advertising campaign, ready to go. Maybe not, but she wouldn't have got to where she is without strategising.

She wrote this with stats in mind. She took what is a very serious issue and put dollar signs in front of it. Controversy gets website hits. Website hits increases advertising revenue. A younger, prettier John Laws of sorts.

C'mon Mia, whether you like or not you have a responsibility to encourage equality and understanding, not incite and fuel ignorance.

You can do better.

bigwords x


Ps: Please don't use the comment section on this blog post to turn this space into a nasty "Mia Hate Campaign". I just had to say something on this one.

The Curious Case of the Caravan Park

I am a big advocate of caravan parks. This is mainly because I am a big advocate of toilets. I am also a big advocate of computers being easily charged at all times so our children can watch movies while we drink beer.

Don't get me wrong, I also adore bush camping, but in small bursts. Personally, if I had my way, we'd take our caravan Audrey all around Australia, stopping occasionally to sleep under the stars in remote hideaways and then also parking the caravan in a car park, so we could stay at five star hotels just because five star hotels are the best. None of this is our reality at present, so we are going to find ourselves spending a lot more time in caravan parks.

I am slowly learning about the absurdities of these microcosms of society. Here's some observations I've made:

1) Never set up outside your designated area. We found that out the hard way, when we were passively aggressively "welcomed" by our site neighbours - a crotchety couple in their twilight years. They waited until we had set-up to politely point out the faded line on the curb we had crossed. We then dismantled everything and moved one inch to the right. When we left, we gave them the bird.

Oh, and never brush your teeth in the dish washing sink. You will get crucified.

2) Not all people in their twilight years are assholes. We've met some of the loveliest, funny, kind people in our travels. They agreed the site boundary police we encountered were knobs. The grey nomads have hilarious tales to tell of bypassing caravan parks or leaving early when they spy other grey nomads of the crotchety variety. Finally, they can choose their neighbours.

3 ) Caravans can be so freeing. Judging by the cache of Johnnie Walker Red bottles, the people who own this caravan were obviously very drunk free.

4) There are people who go to caravan parks so they can let other people parent their children. You see them at the playgrounds - the kids who spend all day hovering around waiting for someone, anyone, to give them attention. Their parents are nowhere to be seen. We have three kids of our own - we do not want to watch your children too. I'm pretty sure free-range parenting is also code for lazy.

5) The night time dash to the toilet block is crappy, particularly when it's raining and running makes your boobs bounce awkwardly. And you will always find someone in the bathroom brushing their teeth - even if it's two in the morning.

6) Don't feel shamed into cleaning your caravan or annex. There are many people at caravan parks who quite seriously have nothing else to do, but clean. You will see them - they have a compulsive need to sweep and wash everything, all of the time. And when they are not cleaning they're walking around making sure everyone is sticking to the rules. They quite often notice other caravaners flee caravan parks when they approach.

7) But also be careful not to let your car or caravan get too dirty, because teenagers.

8) You can meet some cool people while caravanning, but you can also meet some loons. Use eye contact sparingly. If you find yourself not liking your neighbours, zip up your annex, or you can always leave - that's the beauty of having a home on wheels.

Once you get your groove on with caravan parks, they can be really fun, particularly when you have kids. And let's face it - you don't have to do the washing or cook dinner. Winning.

bigwords x

Audrey's First Adventure

What a better way to spend Mother's Day than in a caravan with your husband and your three kids. OK, it wasn't all card games and laughter. There were tantrums. There were midnight runs to the toilet, jumping muddy puddles. And one of the moments of pure joy, involved me watching Julie and Julia, with my headphones on to drown out the noise of the Zhu Zhu Pet Movie which was played on repeat for three days.

Audrey, our new caravan, did us proud. Slowly, we are making her more beautiful. A woman in the UK is going to make her some new gingham curtains. We are on the search for some crochet and quilted rugs. And we are yet to fully stock our cocktail bar. Bit-by-bit she will become all she can be.

In the meantime, she is just right. And when it poured with rain - we were toasty warm and dry. There's nothing like listening to the sounds of the waves crashing just outside your window, while you cradle a freshly poured glass of red.

We have so many adventures ahead of us, together as a family. 

bigwords x

The Circle of Life

Being a Mum is the hardest, most fulfilling job I've ever had. Sometimes, I hate it with a passion so vehemently it burns at my soul, fraying the edges. Sometimes, I am so consumed with guilt about everything and I question if my parenting will forever damage my girls' psyches. Sometimes, I just want to run away. No-one will care if I'm gone. Their lives will go on. They will be better off without me nagging and screaming and worrying and getting in everyone's way. Standing in their path to happiness.

And then, there are many times my laugh shakes my belly like an earthquake of joy. The kids' tiny shrills of giggling ring out and wake the flowers from their slumbers. The sounds of purity make the stars twinkle and the sun shine brighter. My love for them reignites the flames of my inner being. It keeps me alive - burning brightly with passion. Sometimes, my body is completely overcome with my overwhelming commitment and love for them; I frighten myself. How can you love that strongly? It is the definition of contentment. Motherhood is a ride into the unknown - one of challenges and bliss - a perfect circle of yin and yang.

I am very lucky. I am a mother and I still have my mother in my life. For many, the choice to have kids is not theirs to make or the choice to see their mother is not one they can choose or want to make. For those who are filled with grief or longing or sadness or questions or resentment on Mother's Day, I send you my understanding and compassion. You are loved.

For those who will snuggle up tight with their kids this Sunday, I wish you continued joy in this tumultuous journey. This circle of life.

bigwords xx


* The necklace in the picture is a stunning gift from the generous Kate Sutton from Uberkate. I chose to have five small love hearts engraved on one side to symbolise the five people in my family. On the other side, I have the initials of my girls and the year they were born and the year my husband and I were married. I adore it. And it also helps when filling out forms and I can't remember what year everyone was born!

I Dare You

So this happened. I was at the local shopping centre with two of my children. They were both hyped on sugar. As it turned out, feeding them donuts before 9am is not the best idea. They were running ahead, giggling, squealing and randomly asking for shit they do not need - "Can we go on a ride?", "Can we have a milkshake?", "Can we have something to eat?", "Can we get that princess statue?". My brain was about to pop. They were like hyenas. I was like a lion ready to pounce.

And then I saw him, a young dude trying to stop unsuspecting people and engage them in conversation, so he could try and sell stuff to them. I immediately averted my eyes. It's best to never get eye contact. Always approach them with speed and determination. Always "get distracted" at the the moment they try to talk to you. I am a champion at never being stopped. I am like a tiger. An invisible tiger.

This time, the guy thought he'd try a new tactic. He yelled out to me. He made a near fatal mistake. And this is why. He called me: "Super Mum".

I stopped. I pointed in his direction and in my most menacing voice I told him to "NEVER call me Super Mum".

He was very lucky I didn't punch in him in the groin.

The moral of the story is don't be a fuck face.

bigwords x

PS: Don't forget to enter this competition. You could win $1,000 to spend on clothes. 

Dancing In The Driveway

Her tiny toes perched atop her father's feet and they danced together. Spinning around and gliding from one side of the caravan to the other. From the street, their neighbours would have only seen a man swaying listlessly from side-to-side. But for those inside the van, it was a night time dance party in the driveway. The three girls laughed and their parents smiled Cheshire Cat grins.

He took his wife's hand and pulled her close. The sound of their children's giggles tinkled in the background like fairy glitter. Her heart filled with pure joy. A single tear rolled down her cheek. This moment is a memory shared, never to be lost.

From the outside, it looks like an old caravan. For the people in it, it signifies a slice of freedom. The ability to pack up and go at a moment's notice. A place for a family to gather and experience the world together. No commitments, no daily drudgery; just dancing under the moonlight.

This is Audrey. She is the newest member of our family and we adore her.

One day we will take her out of the driveway on a proper adventure. In the meantime, have you got any decorating tips for us?

bigwords x