Specs Appeal

The trouble with glasses is that every time the frames touch my face I internally cringe, recalling the cheap blue and white striped plastic pair I was prescribed as an awkward kid. I have moved on from the jam jars mind.  I tend to wear contacts mainly (or ton-tacts as my littlest refers to them)... Continue Reading →

Mr. Grey

Apparently, depression isn’t real, or so we’re led to believe, or at best it’s just a trumped up version of melancholy for society’s weakest to band about as a modern day ‘bad back’ disclaimer, some Monopoly get out of jail free card we can swipe at our employers, as though we’re waiting in line at... Continue Reading →

Hairvolution

Let me take you on a journey, to a time before GHDs, when curtains and blond tips were all the rage for boys and Sister Unella wouldn’t cry out ‘shame’ behind you if you donned a scrunchie. When crimping was ‘in’ and it was de rigueur to style yourself on Madonna’s 80s look. So many... Continue Reading →

Grey Worm

I know what you’re thinking; what does that fitty from GoT have to do with accepting your body, but that exquisite example of prime time jailbait is the namesake for my pelvic floor tear which for years I avoided touching, let alone braving the mirror #thelaceswereintheywerein (honestly it looked like a blind man had used... Continue Reading →

Skin Deep

Bones shatter, bruises bloom, skin tears, all these wounds eventually heal in time owing to the body’s orchestral symphony for repair; but what of the lingering memory of trauma?  The shock absorbed by the unsuspecting injury site? Often the most painful memories flood our senses and implore our decaying exoskeleton; skin bristles, fine hairs arise... Continue Reading →

Don’t

Don’t avoid the person in the mirror, never spending more than a few seconds to acknowledge her existence because to do that would be to absorb her ugliness and failings when you already know them all, are able to recite them on request, a worn cassette of self loathing that you knowingly feed every day;... Continue Reading →

Let’s just imagine that in some parallel universe my devoted catholic virginal bride mother had a bonk with Hugh Jackman (because let’s face it – who wouldn’t?!).  This quantum leap union of souls giving credence to my growing suspicion that I am actually the secret love child of Wolverine.  I can back it up people... Continue Reading →

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