Is having your ideal body really the recipe to happiness?
I was awkwardly bending over, pulling champagne coloured stockings up over my ankles, when I saw the time. LATE! I was late. Conclusively, hopelessly, white-rabbit-in-Alice-in-Wonderland, late. Shimmy, shimmy, hop, tug – it was up to my thighs – when with a dreadful RIIIIIIIIIP I felt the stockings tear under my unusually long, unusually elegant, nails.
Don’t call me ‘dear’ when I’m taking out insurance.
Don’t call a firm email ‘nasty’.
Don’t tell me I’m angry because I’m on my period.
Don’t call me ‘darling’.
Don’t tell me to ‘think like a man’.
Don’t try to sell me a car based on its colour (‘I know this isn’t the mileage you wanted but it’s in the colour you liked.’).
Don’t try to mislead me because you thought I wouldn’t understand.
Don’t tell me ‘men are simple creatures’.
Don’t assume I’m a pushover because I smile at you.
Don’t take generosity of spirit as a sign of weakness.
Don’t try to control my emotions.
Don’t tell me that that bad parallel parking ‘must have been a woman’.
Don’t judge me as less when I look plain.
Don’t tell me ‘women are so competitive and don’t support each other’ (and men in business are all holding hands?).
Don’t tell me my bad mood is because I’m being ‘too sensitive’.
I had a lot of fun putting together this little video from my holiday in the UK
Got enough coffee in your brain? Ready to feel like you’re on something much stronger? Watch this awesome video and get your Monday off to a bizarre start.
Should I take a jacket? And how many dresses? Packing fills me with an intense anxiety I can only compare to studying for exams: you KNOW you should be prepared. You KNOW there’s areas you can trim down on, and others you should focus on; but it’s impossible to know what’s important until you’re there, in the moment, and then IT’S TOO GODDAMN LATE. Dresses or pants? Jerseys or swimming costumes? I packed for mild weather and English rains and was instead greeted by a heatwave so miserably hot I felt my will to live wither in the hot pink glow of my face.
PINK AND SWEATY
In the muggy heat of the grimy Thames, with heat and pollen caught between the city buildings, I became my least photogenic.
So naturally I turned the camera away from me and any selfies, and instead indulged in using a new camera with a wonderful new lens on the city and people around me. It’s impossible not to have fun in London though, and with my trip to the metropolis sandwiched between a lovely visit to charming Colchester and the Guinness-laden Dublin, I loved every minute.
The UK was overflowing with deliciously ripe red cherries; this sweet thing was ripening on my aunt’s tree in Colchester
I hope ya’ll are a fan of photodiaries because with a new camera around my neck and some trips coming up you can expect a LOT of them.
This latest one is from an absolutely beautiful weekend away in the Drakensberg, on the border of Lesotho, with the wonderful El Boyfriendo. We stayed in Champagne Castle – a very well priced hotel with an unbelievable view. It has access to a lot of hikes (that we didn’t go on), tennis courts, an aviary, and a stunning chapel for one of the most touching and personal weddings I’ve been to.
Misty Mountains past the trees…
My second column is up over at Women24 about banting and why it didn’t work out for me. It’s not the first time I’ve written about banting, but I do think it’s the funniest!
Read here >> Falling off the banting bandwagon
There’s nothing like a good market. As an enthusiastic food fan, I really enjoy a great eateries market – though my chronic indecision when faced with so much deliciousness drives my loved ones a little crazy. I popped into the charming and quiet 1 Fox weekly market with friends, my camera and an empty stomach this past weekend and got some lovely snaps of the place.
What can I say, I’m a sucker for puns.
Posted in Daily Life
Tagged 1fox, biltong, bubble tea, coffee, dim sum, dogs, food market, food photography, foodie, greyhound, market, puppy, puppy portrait, South Africa
So the great news is that I’m basically like, super famous.
I’ve published my first column on Women24 and am basking in the knowledge that tens of people have probably, I guess, maybe, hopefully read it, or at least skimmed it while eating lunch and thinking about other things.
(So if you see someone is sunglasses trying to avoid the paparazzi in Woolworths it’s probably me.)
Read all about being the fattest bridesmaid here.
Me in cartoon form
You know you had a good holiday when you take off your cardi and peeling skin puffs into the air like a snowy cloud, wafting gently to the ground. Yessir, I spent some time in the hot Namibian sun last week, diving into a hippo and croc infested pool.
Of course, when I saw ‘dive’ I mean ‘ease gently’ and when I say ‘hippo and croc infested pool’ I mean ‘an area of the Okovango carefully fenced off from anything dangerous’.
The world’s only hippo and croc diving pool at Ngepi, on the Okovango in Namibia