My New Best Friend

A year ago I had a problem with my back. Actually, I have had the problem for quite a long time. It just got really bad a year ago. A physiotherapist diagnosed it as a problem with my core strength. Ironic really considering that at the time of the diagnosis I was becoming quite familiar with my core and I felt it was stronger than it had ever been. But it seems I still didn’t habitually use it in every day life. The pain was a result of back and hip muscles compensating for lazy core muscles.

So a few appointments involving some torture of the very tense muscles in the affected area and some exercises. Combine that with a better understanding of my body and all was well in the world of my back. I knew what the warning signs were and how to correct impending pain. But of course I got slack and over confident with my abilities. A year later and I am having ‘episodes’ of the same pain. If I have sex in the ‘on top’ position for too long. Especially if I am the one doing the movement. Hard core twerking in its most primal form is hard work and when you are in the throes of passion you forget to engage your core. Similarly the position of my sewing machine makes me twist in a certain way and I forget to ‘engage my core’

When I am poling I don’t forget to engage. I am getting much better at that at least. However I came home last night in extreme pain and stiffness. A long session of sewing, some on top sex and life in general and I could feel the pull of the muscles. It was far from fun or functional. I had the conversations about finding a Remedial Massage Therapist and looking after myself along with beating myself up for not being 25 anymore. I know what I need to do but I just STRUGGLE to self-care.

The Unicorn has recently purchased a foam roller. Which I have used from time to time when finding a massage therapist that doesn’t have a month long waiting list seems impossible. Last night it was an instrument of extreme torture for me. Some Physic Cream, a hot shower, not in that order and off to bed. I woke up this morning feeling like a new woman. I can feel the residual tension so I know this is a temporary fix. I still need to find a massage therapist and habitually use those muscles but at least I am not in pain while I am doing it. I also need to engage the roller again in the next couple of days. Oh and build some stretching into my day. Wish me luck. Encouragement is welcome.


Secret Dancer

Many years ago when I started polefit the industry was different. The way people like me were instructed was a little bit frightening if I am honest. I remember back then having issues with my mood. (Depression / anxiety / having bad day I really didn’t know the difference.) One of the things that stuck with me was that I could walk into a lesson feeling low and drive home feeling like I was the most powerful woman on the planet. When I moved studios the feeling of being powerful declined. I wasn’t progressing because of poor instruction but I kept going because I loved the body positive atmosphere of the place.

Fast forward to now. I am at a studio that is close to my house. Their training methods are amazing and I wish every day that I had them five or more years ago. But for the longest time I have been fighting the demon that tells me I am not good enough and that I will never do this. I considered quitting but the thing that I kept asking myself is “What would I do instead?”. I don’t really like the gym. Organised sport is not part of my life really. And so I kept plodding along improving ever so slowly.

Yesterday I reminded myself about those days that I went in feeling low and worthless and went out feeling strong. I reminded myself that this used to be my happy place and that I was capable of making it that way again. My day yesterday was draining and triggering. I came home and prepared myself to go out again. But I resisted the temptation to walk down the negative road. I told myself that I could do this. That this was somewhere I did belong.

And I was strong

And I smashed it

Onward and upside down for me.

Tan Lines

While I was living at sea last year I never sunbathed in a bikini. By August I had an excellent tan, especially considering how fair my skin is. I was particularly proud of having no tan lines. Coming out of the Southern Hemisphere winter I am lamenting the loss of colour on the parts of my body that are normally covered. I am also struggling to get enough time in the sun to rejuvenate my tan. Over this weekend there was ample opportunity for sunbathing but the presence of families with children required a certain level of modesty. And now I have tan lines.

Sinful Sunday

Size 16 and Beyond

I have always thought I had problems with my weight. One of the legacies of my upbringing. My mother is obsessed with how much other people weigh. She isn’t overweight herself but not really because she eats a healthy diet or exercises regularly she is just one of those fortunate individuals who seems to be able keep on top of her weight.

It doesn’t stop her from judging others. One of the first things she observes about a curvy woman is her size. “Look at the size of her!” Is a statement she makes frequently. She has directed a similar sentiment at me most of my life. Ever since I can remember I have been subject to comments about how much I eat and the size of my body. Even as a child I was criticised for how much I ate and made to feel self conscious about my weight. When I look back at photos I can see that even though I felt I was fat and bigger than other people my age I actually wasn’t. I was perhaps curvier but that meant that I had boobs when a lot of girls didn’t. My bum wasn’t fashionable then but these days it would have been the pick of the bunch.

I always found it difficult to buy clothing. Curves had no place in the fashions of the 1980’s and 1990s where lean supermodels and the “waif” look were the epitome of fashion. Booty was still at least twenty years away. Clothing was made accordingly and girls with curves, like myself, struggled to fit our lumps and bumps into suitable clothing. Jeans were particularly bad. If they fitted my bum the legs were too long and the waist was enormous. With tops and dresses my boobs always seemed to pop out in an undesirable way. I resisted the idea of simply buying a bigger size and altering it. I had a mental barrier that prevented me from selecting anything above Australian size 14.

These days when I look at old photos I can’t understand how thought I was fat. I feel I wasted those years hiding myself just because of something someone who didn’t really have my best interest in mind told me I was unattractive. Sometime last year I got past this mental hurdle. Probably more from necessity than anything else but there I was. I was able to go into stores and ask for size 16. I looked in the plus section and found clothing that made me feel attractive and happy. I progressed down the path of being happy in my own skin. Then I went on my voyage and lost a significant amount of weight. A year ago I was the happiest I had ever been with my body. I felt slim, I was tanned and I fitted into all my clothes really well. I was comfortable and truly happy.

Fast forward to now and all that weight is back. I am resisting obsessing about it but I know I need to do something to reverse the trend. Buying bigger clothes is one thing and not really the problem but I also need to make healthier eating choices. Coming down from celebrating my birthday hard I am looking in the face of cutting back on alcohol and high calorie junk food. It is hard. The journey is going to be long but my experience last year taught me I can still have chocolate and alcohol and lose weight. I just need to include a lot of vegetables and smaller portions as well.

I have recently watched some friends undergo weight reduction surgery. Many people would think this approach is a cop out but after watching the preparation and the immediate aftermath of surgery I am here to say it definitely is not. I have reaffirmed my feelings that this is not for me. For some the surgery is life saving. Their journey, while difficult, leads to a much longer and healthier life than they would have otherwise had. For some it is a struggle. The after effects are long term, sometimes debilitating, and irreversible. I know people who have had this surgery and if they had their time over would not do it again. It is not for me.

And so here I go on another day of trying to eat cleaner, less processed and smaller amounts of food. Wish me luck.

TMI Tuesday – Only Boring People Get Bored

1. When was the last time you Ate Vanilla Slice ? (Now answer your question).

It has been a couple of weeks. I do love a good vanilla slice. Recently I shared one with a Twitter follower. This innocent coffee morning turned into an unexpected embrace and kiss in the carpark and some “relax time” together. I have enjoyed my time with him since then.

2. I’m bored, what should I do?

Only boring people get bored. So get your shit together and find something to entertain yourself or I will give you a menial task like cleaning the bathroom or re-folding the contents of my linen closet.

3. Who is the smartest person you know? Why do you say this?

The pharmacist is a pretty smart guy. He is fond of a pun and also a corny one liner. But in all seriousness the amount of random information he spouts blows my mind sometimes. I am grateful it is usually stuff I am interested in like biology and stuff. I am glad it isn’t physics or politics.

4. Are you awesome?

Of course! My list of talents is long but includes giving amazing blow jobs and being a firecracker in bed. Plus I have awesome boobs and an amazing arse. I am the complete package!

5. If you could take any reality show off the air, which one would it be?

All of them! Life is too short to spend much of it watching other people in contrived “reality” situations. Get out there and live people!

Bonus: After making a claim like the one above I guess I have to prove my point.

Boobs and arse. Two for one!

Fifty and Fabulous

I was born on 23 September 1972. On September 23 September 2022 I said goodbye to my forties and hello to my fifties. I started thinking about this milestone a year ago when I returned from our voyage. At the time I thought the idea of a year of “Being Fabulous” sounded good. but when I sat down to actually think about what that would look like I realised that my life, for the most part, was fabulous. I get to go places that are amazing regularly. I get to dress up and be as sexy as I like regularly. I fuck like a goddess as often as I want so what other fabulousness do I need in my life?

Having said that I planned a weekend of fabulousness to celebrate. And it was fabulous. There was cocktails, an great dinner, an amazing stage show, conversations, a spa and some amazing company with some very good friends. Oh and there was cake. Multiple cakes. A triple decker caramel mud cake with chocolate ganache and strawberries, A decadent chocolate cake shaped like a naked female torso and finally, possibly the best of them all a human decorated as a cake.

Thought the weekend I was constantly amazed by how generous people were with their time and in other ways. I am truly fortunate to have some very kind and beautiful people in my life. It was definitely a fabulous way to celebrate and is easily one of my best birthdays ever.

My Shussy is What?????

I fell into the world of burlesque kind of by accident. A few years ago I started attending a pole dance studio that also taught burlesque. Well actually it was the other way around. A burlesque teacher who dabbled in pole-fit. It was here that I learned about the glitter filled world of burlesque and places where dancers who didn’t look like mainstream dancers went to shine.

I made friends with women who were destined to be these kinds of dancers. Carving their way into the world to shine their own light in their own way. It was through them that I attended some shows and was fascinated by this world of feathers, silk fans, and nipple tassels. Modern burlesque is a reflection of American Burlesque of the late 1800’s. But there are many twists and turns. Every performer has their own personal style and signature way of performing. In 2020 I was excited to attend one of the first incarnations of “Shreklesque”. Put simply this was a Shrek themed show featuring some burlesque performers that I knew and others that I had seen and heard of. Not all were burlesque performers. Some were drag queens and some were “boylesque” performers; Males that danced in burlesque style and costumes but did not present as female.

At the time Brisbane was just emerging from the first panicked Covid – 19 lockdown. We were nervous about gathering in large groups but we were excited to purchase our tickets and head to a small theatre that was used predominantly for community theatre events to support this little group of performers trying to keep their art alive. Fast forward two years and I was just as excited to see the show again after two years of development and in a bigger, more professional venue.

I was not disappointed. I was treated to dance, drag queens, weird parodies of Shrek characters and a mound of green pubic hair among other things. All of the performers pushed gender norms in some way. Men dressed as women. Women performing as male characters from the movie although not disguising their femininity. A gingerbread man that was more sexual than any baked good should be. The “normal” standard for body shape was either parodied in the form of fake six packs or completely ignored in the form of larger than life performers.

None of this made the performances less. In fact it made for a richer, more diverse show. Everyone on that stage was just living their best life. Audience members did not judge anyone be it performers or each other. You want to wear a lime green outfit and bright purple hair? Go you! The show’s creator Trigger Happy has danced for most of his life. An injury prevented him from making it into the mainstream world of broadway but it doesn’t stop him from kicking high and dropping into the splits in a way no man feels comfortable watching.

There are those people in the world that would not be able to see past his size to appreciate his athleticism. People who think athletic = skinny. There are people who think that larger, less pert breasts have no place in public viewing. They are wrong. Humans come in all shapes and sizes. And some of us are born to entertain no matter what shape or size we are.

Every Damn Day in June

In the Dark

A few months ago, when it was warmer, I was sunbathing on the front deck as we sailed to Moreton Island. A friend, we shall call him the Party Boat Man, went past with a raging party happening on deck. Most of the party people were young men. I covered up because I didn’t really want THAT much attention but as they went past I saw Party Boat Man on deck and I flashed him.

Honestly, I didn’t think it was that much of a big deal. But apparently it was. He didn’t believe that these boobs are completely natural and surgically unaltered. It has become a bit of a thing. Yesterday we saw him in the distance and there was a flurry of text messages with a few moments of him trying to chase us down to get another flash.

Then at 1.30am I get a message; “Titties??” In the dark I took this shot.

I was surprised at how well it came out given I had no idea what the camera was seeing.

Of course he was not happy with just one but that is a story for another day.

Boob Day
Every Damn Day in June


I took this image just after we returned from our voyage last year At the time I was uncertain of my direction with Sinful Sunday and I didn’t post it. Reviewing it tonight I liked it.

Until I noticed the unfortunate placement of a handle on a kitchen cupboard!!!!

The arse is still good though.

Sinful Sunday