Bringing style back

Following on from my post on sexy men, I came across this article today.  Couple that with  Baz's latest production and I am intrigued at this latest fashion push (and fashion is not my thing (so perhaps take everything herein with a grain of salt)).  

Bright pink suits are definitely not for me and I know that the right man can look uber sexy in a printed tee, jeans and kicks.  A hoody can be great too - nothing like  pair of sexy eyes peaking out of a hood.  Boxer shorts are cool.  And a nice arse in grey tracksuit pants can be pre-orgasmic.  However, I must admit that a well-fitting three piece suit can be a thing of beauty.  I recall my days of working in the UK and watching all the well dressed toffs.  Snooty and useless but oh so easy on the eye!  

To be honest, I am actually a huge fan of a dark suit and a crisp white shirt WITHOUT a tie.  I know, risque, right?  But the mix of formal without the restrictions of a tie is so appealing (plus, I recall my tie-wearing school days and they were not pleasant!).  Also, I have a thing for a nice chest so a few open buttons is a goo-ood thing (and, if there are any men reading this, keep the hair!  I want none of this hairless chest shite.  In fact, manscaping should not be a thing).

In fact, that makes me feel the need to point out that there is a fine line between dapper and metrosexual.  Hair product is okay.  Actually, done well it can be quite delicious.  Aftershave?  Definitely!  But eyelash curling and eye makeup (in fact any makeup) is out.  And don't get me started on falsies - they do not belong on men! I don't think anyone should do the fake tan thing - male or female.  Manicures and pedicures are passable as long as there is no polish.  Neat facial hair is fine but facials are taking it into questionable territory.  Leather jackets can be very classy but pants are really only suitable if you're riding a bike.  I will tolerate a man with a scarf but it's not to be knotted intricately (unless you are Hugh Jackman in 'Australia' and it's a bandana not a scarf) Pashminas are out, as are turtle necks.    Hats are hard to pull off regardless of gender; very few people can do it with success so probably best to err on the side of caution and throw it away. 

My golden rule, however, is that you have to be comfortable in whatever you wear.  If you cannot wear it with confidence, don't wear it (and, while naked is also a good choice, perhaps keep that to a home-based pursuit lest risk a trip in the back of a divvy van)!  There is nothing sexier than a confident, intelligent and funny man.  

Sex appeal

I am a fussy bitch. I have high standards. I will not apologise for that. 

I love men. I love the way they move, the way they smell and the way they are when they are around other men.  I love having male friends. I prefer them to women as women tend to be competitive, bitchy and they tend to talk about things that don't particularly interest me. I am not concerned about people in Hollywood; I like to look nice but I don't follow (in fact I don't understand) fashion and I couldn't name a single brand of hair care product. 

However, I find very few men truly sexy - George Clooney, Enrique Iglesias, Hugh Jackman and Ryan Reynolds.

 

Sure, I can appreciate David Beckham (unless he opens his mouth) or Bradley Cooper's body but I don't find them sexy.  So, when it comes to men in real life I can honestly say that I have met three men who I have found truly sexy; utterly irresistible.

The first I met when I was fifteen. We spent years as friends and finally got together at eighteen.  To this day he still rocks my world!  Not tall but with dark hair and eyes and a smile that made me weak at the knees. We were crazy about each other but neither ready to settle down so reluctantly went our separate ways.  He will forever be my litmus test for sex appeal.

Nearly twenty years passed until I met the second. I noticed him eyeing off a Delorean. - dreamy eyes and a lopsided smile. Mmm mmm mmm!!!

The third I met on New Years Eve and we danced up a storm until he told me he was married and I promptly walked away.

I have been with men I find fun, interesting and stimulating. But being with someone sexy is another beast. It's raw and energising. I recall car trips with Sexy Man #1 and having to force myself to concentrate on gear changes. I found him utterly delectable. It helps that we had such fun together, too. We did it all - running, dining out, dancing (man that guy had some moves!), drinking, lazing on the beach, barbecues with family, parties with friends. He even played the piano for me in a hotel bar!  And whatever we did I couldn't help but look at him. I found him magnetic. I could be in the depths of conversation with a friend when he would walk past and totally ruin my train of thought.   His face is etched into my brain. So are his feet. Man, that guy was sexy from head to toe! 

What I find interesting is the commonality between all three sexy men I have met in real life. Man, I could look at any one of the three all fucking day.  The first and second have extra appeal due to their intelligence - I find brains sexy.  But, for me it is about the eyes and mouth (the four men pictured also have dark eyes and lickable lips). 

For me, it's the little things that matter. Like everything in life; you can deal with the big shit when it surfaces but sorting out the little things can be an unrelenting pain in the arse.  To me, it matters little what someone's body shape is.  Sexy is more than a shirt size.  Sex appeal oozes when a man talks, in the way he walks, how he deals with people, eye contact and a cheeky smile.  There's nothing sexier than a cute guy looking straight at me and smiling.  Makes me shudder just thinking about it!

Snail pace

Years ago I read a book in which the author has a serious medical condition and is confined to bed. A friend gives her a common woodland snail as a companion and the book details her journey to recovery through the slow and deliberate adventures of her pet snail. 

I was struck down with a bad bout of gastro recently that saw me in hospital on IV fluids for a couple of days and resulted in a significant tear in my stomach wall from violently throwing up. As a result I have had a very slow week which has reminded me of Biley's writings of her pet snail. I have spent a great deal of time in quiet contemplation. In contrast to my usual headspace, which can be frantic and disjointed, I have found a sense of clarity (the after effects of a general anaesthetic will do that to a girl). 

Where I had previously been trying to convince myself otherwise; I have now accepted that I will never be truly happy with being alone. The truth is that I like sharing my life with someone special. I love the intimacy that comes with a romantic relationship.  

As a dear friend pointed out today, I am an optimist. I have an innate ability to find good in people and situations. Where some might think that naive; I don't see things that are not there. I am not inventing goodness. I merely see through the fog and focus on the small rays of sun that shine through. Admittedly, some people and situations shine more brightly than others but there are rare gems out that that appear dark and shrouded in clouds that are actually the brightest of them all. 

I can see some glimmer of hope today. I have accepted that I am alone. However, now that I have admitted that I am not okay with it, and that alone is not my preferred state I can start to move on. Not in the sense of finding someone to latch onto and have a relationship with but in finding coping mechanisms for the grief I feel. I will not feel hard done by and be woe is me. Sure, there will be times when I am deeply saddened. There will be times when I am overwhelmed with a sense of loss. There will be moments of sheer dejection. But I am going to face my shit and wash myself clean of it. 

Men may not treat me well but they always wish they had once I've gone.  There must be something in that.  Ergo, I am not seeking out a relationship.  I have much work to do on myself.  I still have a lot to learn.  So, right now, I am determined to have fun in life.  I will seek it out; create it if I have to.  And while I am having fun, I am going to find my true self, embrace her and learn to love her.   Before anyone else can love me, I need to believe that there is something worth loving.  For that, I need to find it for myself and accept it for whatever it is.

I have been told that I am resourceful and strong. I choose to draw on those qualities and move forward.  I will take this journey like the snail: slowly and gracefully all the while leaving a glimmering silver trail behind me.  

To blave

One of my favourite movies is "The Princess Bride".  I love the costumes, the sets and the storyline.  It's a classic fairy tale (which, in and of itself, has fundamental flaws but we'll overlook that for now) with so many quotable lines.  One is where Westley tells the Princess Bride that there are a shortage of perfect breasts in the world and it would be a pity to damage hers.  Another is Westley's use of "as you wish" instead of "I love you".   And who hasn't used the line "you keep using that word I do not think it means what you think it means"?

I adore Inigo's  "Let me explain.  No, there is too much.  Let me sum up" and his determined "I do not budge; keep your 'Ho there!'" and "There will be blood tonight!".   I like the idea of duelling "to the pain" rather than to death and the conviction with which the Man in Black tells Buttercup that "Life is pain, Highness.  Anyone who says differently is selling something".  I cannot help but grin when Westley asks Buttercup "What hideous sin have you committed lately?" like there is nothing she could ever do to change the way he feels about her.  And, of course, there's the classic "Hello! My name is Inigo Montoya.  You killed my father.  Prepare to die".

Right now, however, the quote that rings true for me is when Miracle Max misinterprets Westley's reason for living as "to blave" rather than "true love".  That sums it up for me at the moment.  Everything is a bluff.  I am lying my way through life.  Nothing is real.  It's all a farce.  I hide my true feelings; I mask my pain (as best I can); I play at being a part time mother. And I fight.  I fight every second of every day.  I fight against my perfectionism.  I fight against my low self esteem.  I fight against my desire to contact people, to reach out.  I fight against my natural response to touch people (I literally pull my hand away).  I fight against the demons in my head.  And all the while, I pretend that everything is ok.

I try desperately to be smarter (damn inferior synapses); to make better choices; to do things differently.  To be someone I am not. They say, practice makes perfect and to fake it until you make it.  I just hope that I can get better quickly 'cause I ain't doing such a good job of anything at the moment.

Someone made a mistake

'Nuf said

At least someone's looking

Apparently, one of the guys at work was looking at my arse at morning tea today. Rather than be offended (and I totally should be) I'm going to turn that shit around and be thankful that at least someone out there is interested in my rump. 

I scream

It's bizarre to realise the influence you can have on people.  I was talking with my gorgeous cousin last night and she mentioned that every time she eats ice cream she thinks of me and the way I used to mash my ice cream up as a kid (which, I have to admit, I still do).  It's a small thing but it has brought me great joy throughout the day today to think that I have had, in a small and insignificant way, had an impact on her life and her happiness when eating ice cream.

It is no secret that I have an affinity with dairy.  Without chocolate milk, smoothies and ice cream I would not be alive.  Sounds dramatic, but it is totally true.  I am a lazy (and pretty lousy) cook at the best of times.  I eat to live.  So when it's just me, I have zero motivation to eat and tend I have milkshakes for dinner out of obligation.  

I will now smile a little deeper every time I reach into the freezer for the ice cream knowing that I have shared the joy with someone special.

Convergence

My sister recently travelled to Vanuatu and brought me back gifts of a shot glass and a gorgeous bracelet.

  Last weekend, Mum also gave me a bracelet.  Both bracelets have a similar theme.  The one Mum gave me is inscribed with the words "hope, happiness, dreams, friendship and love".  The one my sister gave me has  a pendant with "live, laugh, love and dream" on it.

I find it both refreshing and reassuring (while simultaneously a little disturbing) that those nearest and dearest to me have a similar view for what I need in my life.  Moreover, that their views align with mine.   There is a part of me that worries that my family feel the need to brand me with that message but they are, as usual, probably right.  I tend lose sight of reality from time to time and gentle reminders are welcome.

I have been amazed at how similar threads have been appearing in unrelated parts of my life.   Perhaps it is because my focus is in a particular place (gotta love confirmational bias) but I also wonder whether the people in my life are going through a similar process as I am.  I have noticed that my situation has affected the people around me.  I feel both grateful for and guilty about that.  I love lost and gained friends.  My relationships with the people in my life will never be the same as they were because I am going through a great change.  As a result of the changes I am making, there are times when I am literally overwhelmed with emotion. It is physically exhausting to work on your shit the way that I am.

From the outside, only those that know my situation would see the battle I am waging internally.  I've fucked up in so many ways.  I have many regrets.  There are days when I am so over it all that just want to hide under the doona and let the world float by.  But I refuse to be a victim.  I have been subjected to situations that were well less than ideal.  I have been mistreated by loved ones.  As a result, I consistently feel like a failure.  But I refuse to let that consume me.  I am sad, I am disappointed, I am heartbroken and I am damaged.

Sure, I have a lot of work to do and it is going to be a long and lonely road but I will be different when I get to the end of that road.  I will be able to make better choices.  I will be well armed with a resilient set of skills, a support network and the biggest motherfucking emotional walls ever constructed.  I will endure this process to ensure that I get to the point where comments from people I hardly know no longer send me into a tailspin.  My walls will be solid and impenetrable and no one will be able to knock them down.  I am starting to see signs of this working.  I am getting better at disconnecting. Sure, I fall off the wagon from time to time and I still have my Achilles heel that needs extra attention.  But I am withdrawing from the world.  I am learning how to not connect with people I meet.  I am watching and observing those around me that are masters of disguise; where everything is a charade and the unaware don't see that it's all a farce.  Unlike other areas of my life where I tend to pick up new skills quickly, this is proving to be quite challenging for me.  Akin to trying to change my eye colour.  But I am determined (some say stubborn).

Right now, though, I am owning my filth.  I feel like I have pulled my insides out, washed them and put them back only to realise that they actually are not clean enough.  Now I need to start the process again with a more thorough cleanse.  I realise how fortunate I am to have supportive family by my side and that they can see that there is a glimmer of potential for me in the future.  Sometimes a little hope is all we need.

Wheel of life

Resilience comes from balance.  Finding balance in life can be tricky.  I got to the point where my life was completely out of balance.  I dedicated the majority of my time to work, neglected my family and friends, lost site of all my hobbies and interests and had zero time for myself.  I have been working very hard in recent months to re-learn what I like in life; to find those things that bring me resilience.  I have gone through a great journey of discovery and am now working hard to achieve my balance. 

My psychologist recently introduced me to the wheel of life.  Basically, the idea is that you need to have each of the components of the wheel in your life to function fully. 

Each person will have a different perspective on what their balance is; balance is not necessarily equal time for each item in the wheel.  For some work is more important than hobbies and their balance is achieved when the work pie occupies a bigger portion of the wheel than hobbies do.  And there are points in time when some aspects have greater significance or importance in life; ergo the balance shifts to accommodate the change.  The point is that Utopia is achieved where all aspects of your life are present.  Obviously, we live in the real world and it is unlikely that anyone is going to be able to achieve that all the time.  There are times when we fall ill or family pressures take precedence and balance is lost.  The more balanced your wheel is, however, the more resilient you are in your ability to cope with the upsets that life throws at you.

Chasing dreams

I came across the following quote recently: "Don't follow your dreams; chase them" - R. Dumb

I have always been willing to work for what I want. I am not averse to it at all. I have always wanted to travel. Ever since I can remember, the top 10 things on my list of things to do have all involved going somewhere.

Top of my travel list since I was fifteen is New York. I want to do all the standard touristy things - run around Central Park and take a carriage ride through it; watch the ball drop in Times Square; ride the subway; see a Broadway show; walk along the Hudson; eat a bagel in Queens; drink cocktails at Attaboy and The Clarkson; take photos of the Empire State and Chrysler buildings and the view from Rockefeller Centre; ice skate; watch the New York Nicks. Hell, I even want to ferry to Staten Island! Ideally, I want to live out at least a year there - watch the seasons change the view of Central Park and experience the immensley rich culture of the city that never sleeps.

Next would have to be Paris - croissants on the Seine; the Eiffel Tower; navigating the catacombs; exploring the canals; even visit the Louvre. Then a northern Australia tour encompassing the Kimberley's, Uluru, Kakadu, Katherine Gorge, the Bungle Bungles, wave rock, Litchfield National Park, Karijini National Park and Cable Beach.  Milford Sound, New Zealand would be next. The Pyramids at Giza then a safari in Kenya. Beyond that, the list gets more adventure-filled with canoeing the Okavango Delta, climbing Kilimanjaro, seeing the northern lights from Norway, exploring Crimea, the Greek Isles, the islands of Thailand, Malawi, Madagascar, the Galapogos Islands, Antartica and the Amazon rainforest. There are more places on the list but I think you get the idea. 

So, while I wait for it, I am going to work for it!

Fat heart

I watched "Pitch Perfect" with the kids and their cousins over the weekend. I liked Fat Amy's (I should make mention that I think Rebel Wilson is awesome) concept of having a fat heart.  I have come to the realisation that I am blessed with a cursed fat heart. I say blessed because I believe there's not a lot of joy in life if you cannot feel it and with a fat heart I feel everything.  Cursed because my heart is marred. Damaged. Stained. You name the fault; I have it in spades. 

Because of my fat heart I am generous, thoughtful, selfless, forgiving and gentle. But I am also gullible, trusting and weak.  

And with my heart being clinically obese I feel more than most can imagine. I feel pain, empathy and sorrow for people I have never met. Craziness, I know. But it is true. I worry about the wellbeing of the merest acquaintance when something goes wrong in their life. I want only good things for others; I am naturally a people-pleaser, a self-sacrificer.   So much so that I put others' needs above my own. Ipso facto, you can imagine what I feel for those I love. It can be all-consuming at times. I look at my children and my heart just aches for them; knowing that they have so much facing them and that there's not enough I can do to prepare them for it.

While I honestly care for everyone, it actually takes a long time for me to let someone into my heart.  My love is given to precious few. All are worthy individuals.  And when I love it is unconditional. While a parent's love for their child is naturally unconditional (I know there is nothing my children could ever do or say that could stop me loving them), I also love other family members unconditionally. They make choices I don't agree with but that does not alter my affection for them. I also love other people unconditionally. Not many but my unconditional love is not limited to romantic partners either. There are friends, male and female, that I would include on that list.  But their number is small; I am very selective.   Because so few people experience unconditional love it is occasionally misconstrued as obsessive. What people don't seem to realise is that I am not trying to trick them. I honestly want what is best for other people. All of them. All the time, regardless of my relationship with them.

For those people I love, I will give the world. I will labour at what seems the smallest thing because it is the small things in life that matter. I will put in the effort to do whatever it is that makes my loved ones happy. Regardless of what it is; even things I don't approve of or agree with.  That is what unconditional love means - it means loving all of someone without trying to change them*. It means accepting them the way that they are.  And loving them for that; not despite it.  And once you have occupied real estate in my fat heart I will always be there for you if you call on me. No matter what.

* I should not here that I do try to understand the people I love and this, too, can be misunderstood as an attempt to evoke change.

Straw

There's no coincidence that you both clutch at straws when shit hits the fan and it's the straw that breaks the camel's back.  In life, it's the little things that matter.

Keeping it real

When I was growing up I desperately wanted an older brother. I figured we would have less to fight about, he could impart wisdom on how the male mind works and he would have had an endless supply of hot friends. Don't get me wrong, at no point have I wanted to swap my sister for a brother. And that's saying something because there were times when I loathed that bitch!

No, I craved an additional sibling.  The idea of a large family really appealed to me.  I wanted brother a year older than my sister. I figured that'd be about perfect. His friends would be three years older than me, wise and sexy as fuck.

Alas, we don't always get what we want. 

Instead, I am blessed with a sister I adore. And, because it was just the two of us growing up; we experienced a lot together. I crammed all the love I would have had spare for the brother I didn't have into my relationship with my sister. I drove her mad, I adored her so. And I have to admit, she was pretty patient with me. Most of the time. 

When I look back at our relationship over the years I can see that we were never peas in a pod. We do not share many common interests (apart from the obligatory dancing and drinking - thanks Mumma!).   But we were brought up to respect and value family above all else. And it worked. There is nothing I would not do for her. 

When I look at our relationship now, I see her as a pillar of strength; that she's supporting me. It freaked me out the other day when she said, unprovoked, that I support her just as much - funny how perspective is everything. 

Yesterday our children were playing together (which I LOVE).  Usually when this happens the two of us will sit around and talk crap.  However, my sister has been working very long hours for weeks on an important project and had to take a call from work. So, instead of sit on my arse and read about the glorification of others' lives, I cleaned up (with the kids on school holidays and my sister working the house was not at the standard she likes to maintain it at) and swept her floor.  Then I took her youngest and my gorgeous children to play at McDonald's while I picked up dinner for her family (mine were having a sushi and baked potatoes).

It's a small thing, but something that I think demonstrates how real our relationship is.  There's no air of pretense around us.  Sadly, there are very few relationships that are like this.  Most are superficial.   Don't get me wrong; I am all for having fun but shallowness bothers me.  I believe that depth is worth pursuing in every relationship.  It is something I have neglected for many years because I was afraid of the truth coming out.  I was unconsciously paranoid that someone would uncover the lie I was living and I was not in a position to face that.  I now work tirelessly create relationships that have depth and provide meaning to my life.

I do believe you need to be discerning, however.  Some people cannot be trusted, they put up a guise of caring to mask the fact that they are just looking for the next piece of gossip.  Others are information hungry, desperate for something that will make them feel more superior.  Then there are the few genuine ones that really care.  And on the other end of the spectrum are those people that proclaim they don't care but actually do.   These can be the most confusing because they consistently send mixed signals.  They are worth pursuing, in my experience, as they generally have such a rich bank of knowledge to share.  It's just hidden under layers.  Like an onion.  And you can peel back layer after layer and find nothing then, just when you are starting to lose hope you uncover another rare gem.  So bright and beautiful it's worth all the effort.

Don't get me wrong.  I also have acquaintances that are just for fun or necessity.  Not every relationship has to be deep.  There are some people in life that fill fleeting moments in your day.  The ones I cherish, however, are the people I think about when they are not around - my children, my family and a close few friends.

Boss from hell

I think everyone that works believes they have the boss from hell.  It's the natural order of things.  Let's face it, almost all of us work to live.  It is the rare few in the world that earn an income from doing something they love. 

At yoga recently the yogi was talking about the boss from hell and pointed out that the ultimate boss from hell is the one you carry around with you all the time; the one in your head.  It's the voice that screams out that you should have done this or that; the over-critical, judgmental part of your brain that never shuts up; the one that is always demanding more and berating you when you fail.  I know my "boss from hell" has perfected her job - she's a master at dishing out criticism.  And she's like the stereotypical nagging Italian Nonna.  She.  Does.  Not.  Shut.  Up!

I am trying to focus on quietening her.  What I'd really like to do is take a pillow and shove it over her face until she suffocates and dies but, as everyone needs internal controls from time to time, perhaps that is a bit harsh.  So, instead, I am learning how to tell her, politely and forcefully, to shut the fuck up.  Sometimes she's just talking shit; she speaks out of habit rather than truth and what she has to say is not pretty.  Nor is it constructive.

It's difficult to change the way you think.  Like a wise friend of mine keeps (not so sweetly) reminding me, the tool I have to fix my issues is the one that's broken in the first place.  He's right, of course.  But I already know that so his words are a waste of breath.  Telling me over and over that my mind is fucked up is about as constructive as telling a toddler that they need to go to sleep while stimulating them with a brightly coloured toy.

Any habit takes effort to change.  We're hard wired to learn new things when we are children but once habits are established (like whether you tie your shoes with two loops or one loop and a wrap-around) it takes a lot of work to undo them and learn a different way.  When those habits are internal (and therefore invisible to others), they are even harder to change.  I believe it's a matter of firstly being aware of the mental habits you want to change then trying to consistently retrain the brain to respond differently when those situations arise.  Couple this with positive reinforcement and you're about a decade away from change!  

Seriously, though, when I can transform my boss from hell to provide a balanced view, I will be a force to be reckoned with.  Until then I will learn to buffer her until her panicked screams become a gentle hum of a whisper; the quiet voice of reason.  Yet another work in progress (my life is a veritable construction zone)!

Could have. Should have. But won't

Tonight I am choosing to listen to music.  LOUD music.  So as to not disturb my neighbours I have my headphones in with the music blaring.  I have danced around my lounge room until I sweat.  That's no mean feat!  I have to dance for a long time to get to that point.  And I have to put in a lot of energy in my dancing for a long time.

I could have made another choice.  I could have sat on my couch.  By myself.   I could rethink all the mistakes I have made through my life (and, trust me, that could keep me occupied for the rest of my life).  I could ponder what would have been if things had have been different. I could visualise where I would be had I made better choices in the past.  I could think about all the things I should have in my life but just don't.

I could dwell on my loneliness and lack of worth.  I could reflect on the fact that no man sees me as special.  But the truth is that's no more the case today than it was yesterday.  

I could worry about what my life looks like to other people.  I know it doesn't look good.  So worrying about what others think is not going to get me anywhere from where I am.

I could stress about the lies people spew without thought for their consequences.  I could imagine all the happy people out there, tucked up in their beautiful homes with their gorgeous partners that adore them.  

I could.  I possibly should.  But I won't.

Today, I choose to accept the fact that I am not yet good enough for someone to adore.  When I am honest with myself I am not worthy of being loved (that doesn't mean that I don't crave that).  

I have a lot of work to do. I acknowledge that.  I accept that and I am embracing that. I am not running scared (though I am petrified).  I am not averse to hard work.  I am actually quite adept at working; slaving away and slowly chipping away at things until I reach my goals.  This is no different. This is yet another time in my life where I need to dig deep and pull out a miracle.  Prove all those doubters wrong.  Those who know me will agree that nothing motivates me more than someone telling me I cannot do something.

So fuck the critics.  They're going to find fault with me regardless of what I do.  Today, I choose to stand up to them.  Today I will fight.  Today I will dance until my lungs hurt and each breath requires effort. And I will do it all with a smile on my face.  Because I can!

High maintenance

I recently read an article about the traits of high maintenance people.  Now, there are plenty of people out there that I would classify as high maintenance.  About half of them are men.  I know it's not the first thing people think of (societal norms point towards a spectacularly manicured woman as the epitome of high maintenance) however, I don't distinguish personality traits as being gender specific.

Further to the traits outlined in the article I read, I consider a person to be high maintenance not only when they take ridiculous amounts of time to get ready, spend others' money to their end, run their own mini-drama series and have excessive needs but also when they are:

• Over critical (about everything from breakfast cereal choice to clothing brands)
• Extremely fussy (from frequently washing their car to an inability to drink tap water)
• Vain (from constantly tucking a shirt in to having to wear particular attire to be able to attend a particular event)
• Expect too much from others (from never being the one to initiate correspondence to weighing social invitations against each other to determine which is more deserving of their attendance)

I would probably classify myself as the lowest maintenance person I know.  Don't get me wrong, I like to look my best but it takes me only about twenty minutes to get ready (including showering).  I also don't have a problem getting down and dirty.  I will mow the lawns, prune trees and fix the wipper snipper.  I can start a fire and cook on a barbeque.  I am not above carrying in the groceries.   I can wield a hammer, operate a chainsaw and chop down a tree with an axe.  Sure, I like to clean and paint my nails afterwards but I have no problem in being self sufficient.  

In fact, I honestly have trouble accepting help from others.  It does not come naturally to me.  It is a skill I am trying to learn.  For example, a group of guys and I go to a local coffee shop at work in the morning and there is this little ritual, akin to a dance, where we alternate opening doors for each other on the way to and back from the coffee shop.  After a year or so I still find it uncomfortable when it is not my turn to open a door!

To be honest, I am under pressure from a number of different people to become more high maintenance; to place more demands on other people.  I'm not sure this sits well with me.  I like being easy going.  I like that I can lie on the grass and watch the clouds roll by without worrying about ruining my hair.  I like that, in joking with a colleague about being like a kid heading off to kindergarten I can put my hair in pigtails and not give a shit what others say.  I like that I can get dressed for a night out and never have to reapply make up so I can just enjoy being out with friends.  I like that I can plan my outfit on the way home from gym and be ready to walk out the door in nine minutes (my current record if I don't wash my hair in the shower).  I like that I am not so attached to brand labels that I can happily pick up a top for $4.95.  

To be fair, I am fussy about lots of things.  I will not settle for just any toilet paper; I have specific requirements for tissues too.  In fact, I have expensive tastes when it comes to many things (which is why I don't have a lot of things - I would prefer to go without something than to have an inferior product).  The reason I don't count this as being high maintenance, however, is that it has no bearing on my day to day life.  And I would never impose that on someone else.  I would never ask anyone to get me a yellow diamond, for example.  But I would buy one for myself in a heartbeat if I had the money.  

Black holes and douchebags

"We will probably never understand back holes.  Or why women fall madly in love with douchebags" 

@AmandaMadison1

Now, I don't know AmandaMadison1 (hell, I don't even have a Twitter account), but I like that she tells it like it is.  It's a strange phenomenon that amuses me no end.  And I don't believe it is restricted to romantic relationships.  People tend to be attracted to arseholes; for some reason, they are very popular.  They treat others like shit yet people flock to them, vying for their attention.  I have tried to understand this behaviour but I have never been able to fully comprehend it.

I have a couple of weak theories though.  Firstly, arseholes tend to have good communication skills; they can talk their way out of anything.  Perhaps that's why they tend to also be very arrogant; they believe they are untouchable.  And, to a certain extent, they are (but not for the reasons they believe).  Along with this is the fact that confidence can be very sexy.

Another theory is that people want to fix the arseholes of the world.  Perhaps they feel like they are in a position to show the person that is mean and judgmental the error of their ways and teach them how to do things differently.   Perhaps they see it as a personal project; one that they can embark on and prove their own worth with.

One thing's for sure, if you fall for a douchebag you are likely to have to pull yourself out of a black hole.

Attention

On three separate occasions in one night on the weekend it was pointed out to me that I am not aware of the attention I receive.  I believe these people are delusional.  But, considering it's unlikely that they are plotting against me, I have to consider that perhaps they are right (see Gary, I do listen!).

So thought I would test the theory out when I went to the Healsville races with my sister and her husband on the weekend.  I have to admit it was very difficult to run tests as my sister is hot and was rocking it in a gorgeous green number.  However, there were a few occasions when I was by myself and I started to become aware that people do look at me.  It freaked me out.  I don't like it.

I was blissfully unaware prior to Friday; content in doing my own thing.  Therefore, I found that when I went out on Saturday night I was nervous, self conscious, uncomfortable.  Sometimes becoming self-aware is not a good thing.

I f*&^king love Melbourne

I reluctantly returned to Melbourne in early 2012 to seek work. Being back, however, has made me realise how much I love the city. There is so much life in the CBD. The city offers so much choice. If I had a bottomless bank account I would buy an apartment right smack dab on the middle of it all. 

Swan St Bridge

Swanston St

I love the restaurants, cafes, pubs and clubs.  I love the architecture, the laneways and the atmosphere.  I love the electricity in the city on the weekends.  I love watching all the pretty people rush around doing their thing.  I love imagining where people live, what their job is and what their dreams are.  I love random encounters with awesome people.  

Luna Park

Spiced Peach and Pear White Sangria, Chuckle Park

I love the way I feel when I am immersed in the city.  I love the spontaneity.  I love that I can lose track of time watching others live their lives.  I love the lights, sights and sounds.  

Bucket list

Most people nowadays have a bucket list. The standard is to list 100 items that you want to do/achieve before to die.

My bucket list is a work in progress and does not contain anywhere near 100 things. It is not well maintained and it is rarely updated. However, I have been working on crossing things off the list in the few months. I have a number of items on my bucket list that I would be devastated not to achieve - sky diving, being a part of a flash mob, circumnavigating Uluru and swimming with dolphins (despite them being the rapists if the sea). 

Tonight I  managed to cross something off the list - unplanned, unprovoked and unexpected. I went dancing with my wonderful sister and a friend. I cannot help but dance, even when the music is only in my head!! I'm am almost impossible to contain when there is actual music.  At one point, I was at the bar and was dancing away. I had been dancing for a number of hours and was a little warm (one of the things I love about dancing). The place I frequent gives $50 drink cards to the first 200 girls that enter after nine (great for the poverty-stricken). So I was using my drink card as a mini fan and continued to dance while waiting to be served. The guy next to me started singing the song that was playing with no idea what the lyrics were.  He was absolutely butchering the words.  I couldn't help but laugh. We sang and danced while we waited.

After a number of songs my patience was gone (I am not known to be a patient person).  I complained about how slow the barmaid was at making a series of cocktails. We continued to dance, chatting intermittently. It turns out that the cocktails were for my karaoke buddy. When they were presented to him he offered one to me. My immediate reaction was to decline. Considering the barmaid had moved to the other end pf the bar and the changes I have been working on recently, however, I accepted. I thanked the kind gentleman who promptly put his fist up. I knocked knuckles with him (which sounds kinky but totally wasn't), picked up my Long Island iced tea and returned to the dance floor.

Now, technically Bad Singer Dude did not buy the drink FOR me (the item I crossed off the list). But, after nearly 20 years of going out, it's the closest I have ever been so I am going to run with it.

Ding. Next!

The power of dance

It's no secret that I love to dance.  I love to watch people dance too.  I am amazed (read envious) at the things people can do with their bodies.  I read this morning that the Cebo prison Thriller* dance was the inspiration for a new movie.  I love the power of the internets and the influence public response can have.

*Note there is a subsequent dance by the same prison that I prefer

The list

I've had some interesting conversations recently with a wide variety of people in the last few months - challenging, honest, deep conversations.  I've been overwhelmed by the amount of information people I hardly know are willing to share with me.  It's refreshing and reassuring.  

One particular conversation was around "the list".  I've never heard of the list until recently but evidently it's a thing.  Apparently most girls have a list detailing the attributes of their ideal man.  This is something I have never considered.  To be honest, I don't have a "type".  Clearly, most women do. 

According to my recent random survey, I am a freak!  I was amazed to hear how descriptive women are when it comes to "the list".  Women listed particular personality traits, hobbies, drinking and smoking habits, fashion sense, nationality, height, weight, hair colour, physique, facial hair, eye colour, even eyelash length!  And then they use the items on the list to weigh guys up.  

I was pestered to develop my list.  I declined.  Eventually, however, I gave in.  I am one of the fussiest people I know.  I was actually surprised at how difficult I found the exercise.   I will admit that I could never be attracted to a stupid man; it's just not how I roll therefore, top of the list for me is intelligence. There is nothing sexier than a man with a brain (I admit, I am a sapiosexual).  And life's not worth living without a bit of fun so a sense of humor is pretty important.  Other than that, I judge people on an individual basis.  

However, according to the group I was with, two things does not a list make.  So I had to dig deeper to satisfy the now sizable group of men and women that were equally fascinated at how difficult I was finding the set task.  I have always had a thing for a deep voice, kind eyes, lopsided lips and toned arms (triceps to be specific) so I agreed that they would be a bonus.   Despite being tormented, I could not list anything else that, should a man be lacking, would be a deal breaker for me.  

So, there you have it.  Little Miss Fussy would apparently be satisfied with someone that looks like Enrique Iglesias with a body like Hugh Jackman, a mind like Sheldon Cooper and a voice that vibrates your chest like Morgan Freeman. Don't ask for much, do I?

Ignite

I have always had a thing for fire. I love the warmth, the colour, the unpredictability, the sparks, the raw destructive power. Having worked in fire management, I have seen first hand the ferocity of a bushfire; the momentum it builds and the speed it can travel if given the right conditions.

Recently, my gorgeous sister sent me a text. All it said was "Firework Katy Perry". I promptly logged onto iTunes and downloaded the song (how awesome is technology?). Now, I feel I should point out that my sister and I have different taste in music, but I can see why she put me onto this one. It sends a very clear message. Not known for her subtleties nor her ability to articulate a metaphore, Ms Perry talks of inner strength and beauty. She insists that no one is a lost cause. A point that is not missed on me.

I have squashed, suppressed and hidden myself from the world for fear of rejection. I am slowly exposing more of myself and am surprised (sometimes pleasantly) by the responses. My psychologist continually asks me to turn on my filter; to take a step back and analyse the situation with a different perspective. This is not an easy thing to do. It is a learnt skill. As such, it involves a lot of practice to perfect.

I am slowly allowing the tiny insignificant spark that remains inside me flare. On occasion it actually glows quite brightly. It's always short-lived but I will continue to keep it warm, let it breathe and feed it for every fire needs all three sides of the triangle.

I'm glad this will take time. For the world is not yet ready for the spectacular person that I will become. I will be impossible to contain. I will shine so brightly that only the best of the best are going to be able to keep up!

Beauty sleep

I recently caught up with a gorgeous friend.  She's on the dating scene and was chatting to a guy online while I was with her.  As the night wore on she ended a conversation with one particular male by saying she needed beauty sleep (she doesn't; she's gorgeous and has guys falling at her feet!) but, as usually happens with random comments, it got me thinking.

I have been having trouble with sleep for a long time. Years.  Since BC*.  As a kid, I am told I slept well.  So well, in fact that I used to fall out of bed on a semi regular basis and not wake up.  Gone are those days.  Currently I sleep for two, maybe three hours a night.  I don't toss and turn.  I just lie there.  My mind churning like a washing machine stuck on spin cycle.  Unproductive and sick.

Short of medication, which I avoid like the plague, I have tired it all.  Meditation, music, white noise, yogic breathing, mindfulness...  the list goes on.  For years, I have been okay surviving on little sleep.  Mostly, I have plenty of energy during the day (I don't think you'll find anyone who will attest otherwise).  I manage to do the responsible adult thing (which gets in the way of all the fun I want to be having) and churn through my chores.  

But, I am exhausted.  Absolutely emotionally drained.  I've tried filling my life with distractions (anything from  going out to shopping to exercise) but that doesn't work.  I've tried taking time out and relaxing (as an aside, this is not my thing).  I've tried spending time with my family and surrounding myself with people that truly add value to my life.  I've tried hanging out with people who are all about having a good time.  Nothing works.

This raises questions for me.  Is my mind churning because I cannot sleep?  If I could sleep, would I be able to cope better with what is happening around me?  Is my lack of ability to sleep a result of my emotional state? The guilt I feel as a result of the failure to continue? My pain at the constant rejection in my life? My inner detest for myself?

I like to think that, at this point in my life, my brain is prioritising other things over sleep.  The fact that I can  work a full day then spend an hour running and riding at the gym, followed by an hour dance class and an hour of yoga and still manage to come home to make brownies for a friend, clean the kitchen an do three loads of washing and still be up at 0500 the next morning makes me think that sleep is not high on the list of needs right now.

Either that or my body is so out of the habit it has no idea how to sleep anymore.

*Before Children

Lay still like broccoli

I have always been a fan of yoga.  I have been practicing yoga for about ten years.  I am no yogi but I give it my best shot. I used to practice yoga on my own but I don't have the capacity to do that at the moment so I go to a class on a Tuesday night and on Sundays when I can.

Shavasana is known as the corpse pose in yoga.  For me, it always drums up a line from Pretty Woman where Julia Roberts' character is trying to convince Richard Gere to veg out and likens it to laying still like broccoli.  Every single time I enter shavasana, I can hear that line!

The idea of shavasana is to focus on the breath and the body and find a place of relaxation.  I find it one of the most challenging poses in yoga.  Either I fall asleep (clearly not a meditative state) or my mind wanders terribly.  Like everything in life, being still and reflective takes practice.  One of the things I love about yoga is that it's all about practice.  You can't be "wrong" when doing yoga.  It is not a competition.  To the perfectionist, a la me, this is refreshing.

I love the way my body and mind feels after yoga.  I love lying in shavasana and reveling in the tingling sensation.  To me, it's a sign that my body is alive.  It seems crazy, but it's something I tend to take for granted.  The awareness of my body after a strong yoga session is incredible; second only to the flush after orgasm.  I love the depth of my breath, the stillness of my mind and the warmth that my body generates.  Being a cold person, that's a rare feeling for me!  I soak in it.  I bask in the glory of my fully functioning, albeit thoroughly damaged, body after a yoga class.

For me, yoga is the only time where I appreciate my body for what it can do.  The remainder of my week is spent cursing my inept body, my flawed brain, my over sensitivity, my jealousy, my insecurities and my incredibly deficient self esteem.  But, for the hour or so of yoga, I can see something different.  I can see strength and I can appreciate my imperfections for what they are - just another part of me.  Yoga makes me realise that my imperfections are not what is important about me and that focusing on them generates a skewed view of who I am.

I aim to carry the peace yoga brings to me for longer periods after each class.  We all need more peace in our lives.

Namaste.