Tag: sydney

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The real F-word

It was recently suggested to me that men have a higher suicide rate than women because of feminism. Please excuse me whilst I wash this vomit out of my mouth for a moment. If anyone believes this, I implore you to pick up a book or go out of your little box and into the world. These folk need to stop getting their education through over-dramatised social media posts or Trump-esque videos aimed at pitting one group of people against another. This ‘us v them’ culture is truly the demise of us all. Living with a football player, I can tell you that the reason suicide is much higher in men, particularly in the football community, is because they were raised in macho surroundings where you were labelled a ‘wimp’ or a ‘pussy’ if you cried or showed emotion. Many psychologists believe that those who internalise are at a higher risk of suicide. I fail to see how me expecting to be given the same rights as my male counterpart encourages suicidal tendencies. If that’s the case, you really are a pussy.

What makes me laugh is when a woman feels the need to preface a smart statement with the line: “I’m not a feminist, but…” It reminds me of when Pauline Hanson says; “I’m not racist, but Asians are taking over”. Ladies, if you’re going to say something in support of your fellow sisters, please don’t feel the need to apologise before it escapes your mouth. That’s only perpetuating the myth of feminism being hateful. This is the exact problem. That feminism is a dirty word. This movement has never been about hating men, it’s only ever been about equality. Imagine a world where we weren’t pre-judged on our gender, our race or our religion. Because that’s what prejudice is; pre-judging. You can judge me as much as you would like, but please judge me only on my actions. Because that is all I can control. Everything else was a birthright.

When I was in high school, I was in a group of friends that consisted of  two other girls and about 10 males. My favourite thing to do on a Friday night is have steak and wine at the pub whilst watching the footy. When I am invited to family functions; all of the women sit inside eating cake and talking about celebrities, yet I sit out the back with the men; drinking scotch, smoking cigars and talking about sport. Yet, I am a feminist. I repeat; feminism is not about hating or lowering men, it’s about making everyone recognise we deserve the same rights, whether I can change a tyre or not (I so cannot…NRMA anyone?). Can I also clarify another misconception? You don’t actually have to be a woman to be a feminist. My hot, straight, football playing boyfriend believes whole-heartedly that he and I are equal and that he is not entitled to any more than I due to a difference in gender. He too, is a feminist. Believing in gender equality is what makes you a feminist (and also not an idiot).

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Having been born in the 80’s, I was brought up on movies that led us to believe that our happy ending was standing at the end of the altar in a white dress. What’s interesting, is that very rarely did they explain what we did with our lives after that (presumably barefoot and pregnant). Men saved the world, and women married those men. Gradually, with each generation, you see a shift in entertainment. Disney used to portray Cinderella getting rescued from horrible (and catty towards other women) step-sisters by a handsome prince. Poor old Belle had a bad case of Stockholm Syndrome when she fell in love with her captor. But today, Moana is sailing the seven seas to rescue her whole village! She’s warm and wild and brave, and the world fell in love with her (I love her crazy grandmother who dances with Sting-rays; that’s my kinda woman). The big shift arose when I was a teenager, The Spice Girls introduced us to Girl Power and my TV screen was dominated by Buffy, the Charmed ones and Dark Angel. Their ass-kicking moves and sassy retorts will live on in my soul forever.

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Can someone please explain to me why so many believe it acceptable, humorous even, when a man is drunk at a party but inappropriate if a woman is? I wanna have some fun too (right Ms Lauper?) Correct me if I’m wrong, but doesn’t alcohol work its way down to the liver rather than the penis? Hmm, perhaps I need to look at a diagram of anatomy again. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not condoning drinking to excess, I just fail to see why it’s socially acceptable for one and not the other. I was not born to be the designated driver with an expensive handbag. I have a voice, and I intend to use it. Plus…I am a fantastic dancer after a few champagnes. I was recently shamed by a wife of my partner’s friend for having been drunk at a party two and a half years ago. I walked up to her at a wedding and introduced myself, to which she replied; “oh we’ve already met at that birthday party years ago, but you were too drunk to remember”. I found that very interesting, considering that her husband was drunk at that birthday party, her husband was drunk at this wedding and her husband has been drunk at every occasion in between, as were all the men in that group. I’ve even had my sink clogged by their vomit. But I suppose that’s funny (YTB!) I’ll tell you this much about our lovely friend, I wouldn’t have remembered her even if I was sober. I tend to only remember people with personality.

It’s disappointing to realise that it’s not only men who are fighting our belief in gender equality. We can only succeed if we work together and stop tearing each other down.

No one can be ‘better’ than another based on something they were born with, such as a postcode, a colour of skin or a chromosome. Your actions are the only thing that determine your importance. Graham Long is better than most, because for decades, he provided a safe haven for the lonely and hopeless in Kings Cross. He used his voice to help others find their own. Turia Pitt is better than most because she is breaking down the walls of perceived beauty and continues to rise, despite her setbacks. She is using her strength, to help others find their own.

Allow me to share with you an actual exert from the Woman Anti-Suffrage Association of New York, urging men to vote no on the woman suffrage amendment;

  • Vote NO because there is no adequate reason why the women of this State should assume this duty in addition to those they already carry.
  • Vote NO because women are not suffering from any injustice which giving them the ballot would rectify.
  • Vote NO because man’s service to the State through government is counter-balanced by woman’s service in the home. One service is just as essential to the welfare of the State as the other, but they can never be identical.

Housework was actually referred to as a woman’s service to the State.

Remember the old saying; “who died and made you boss?”. Who died and put men in charge? Why did we ever have to ask for permission to have a voice? It makes as much sense as black people sitting on one end of the bus, and white people sitting on the other.

Inequality is in play when TV executives deem it OK to have a male news anchor who is old and unattractive, but his female co-anchor must be under 55, slim and attractive (I know you all remember Brian Henderson). Inequality is in play when Emma Stone and Jennifer Lawrence were paid less than their male co-stars for the same film, even though they’re both Oscar winners. And inequality is in play when tampons are taxed as a luxury item but condoms are not.

Once a month, I love to spoil myself with some luxurious indulgence.

Feminism is a beautiful word. It might not be as beautiful as my two other favourite F-words; Free Food. But I am damn proud to use it.

A woman with a voice is a beautiful creature, not as the lovely Greens member Greg Barber put it; “fat, hairy lesbians”, “power pussies” and “hairy-legged feminists”. Sit down Greg; you ain’t no oil painting.

Any movement that encourages equality and fairness is a good and necessary movement. It is met with resistance only by the weak who fear losing their strength if others are stronger. True power comes from within, and cannot be taken away by another.

FEAR; now that is truly one of the filthiest words.

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It is what it is

At one of my previous roles, I worked with a feisty & stylish Marketing Brand Manager by the name of Dan. He is one of my very favourite people. A huge personality and one of those lucky Geminis who has endless luck. He always has money, always has a black bag from The Iconic arrive at his desk at least once a week, always has a new fancy car and would arrive at airports for a work trip and get magically upgraded to first class. Very little worries him (or he leaves all the worrying to his assistant). His most commonly used phrase around the office is “it is what it is”. A line that used to infuriate me when he said it, and when a much older (and slightly condescending) ex-boyfriend used to use it on me. Though in the last year or two, I have had a shift in my outlook on life and I too find myself using this phrase quite frequently.

It’s so simple yet so truthful.

Everything actually is what it is, whether I cry about it or not.

I think my change in outlook came about, upon reading Eckhart Tolle’s ‘The Power of Now’. I tried to read it once many years ago and just kept re-reading the same lines, unable to make sense of any of the words in front of me. Now, I read it once a year as a top-up and every page is like a light bulb moment. I do believe that you have to be ready for certain life lessons. I wasn’t when I first bought the book.

Tolle states that there are no good events or bad events, there are simply; events. It is only when you attach emotion to them, do they have a positive or negative connotation. I know you’re yelling at the screen now saying; “what about car accidents, what about Cancer”? I get it. To us, these events are life-changing. The premise however, still stands. To the Universe, events are like ocean waves, and we’re the surfers. We can either ride the wave gracefully into shore or stand flat-footed, refusing to move with the current and struggle upside down, underwater until we’re snorting out salt water and putting our exposed bits back into our swimmers.

Three years ago, I was apartment hunting for my boyfriend and I. It was a very exciting time; to have found the person you want to share your life with and both agreeing on the beachside suburb you will set-up camp in. I was constantly picking out furniture at IKEA, and shopping for beautiful abstract paintings online. I had nearly everything picked out; except the actual apartment. Times had changed since I last property-hunted. It had become a lot more competitive. I would show up to an inspection and there were at least twenty other couples vying for the same place. I always made a point to shake hands with the agent and make sure they remembered my name and the fact that I was willing to take out someone’s knee Tonya Harding style until I got that property.

There were two apartments early on that I had my heart set on. The first had a nice little courtyard. On my vision board, I had specified that I wanted an apartment with either a balcony or courtyard because the Italian that I am, I love to host parties, dinners and BBQ’s for my family and friends. There were thirty other applicants applying for this property! The agent told me that our application made it into the final two, but the Landlord ultimately picked a single, much older lady. I recall specifically going home, throwing myself on my bed and kicking and screaming like a child having a tantrum in the middle of the cereal aisle when mum picked All Bran over Coco Pops. I was 31.

Just a week later, we found an amazing unit with a huge living area, a lovely balcony, internal laundry, garage and very close to the cafes and shops. There were just as many applicants as the last two we had applied for, but we were blessed to make this our new home with very little effort. The Landlords are an amazing couple who sent me a personal email to thank me for decorating the apartment so nicely, they laid down new floors and they send us hampers at Christmas. They have just offered us a fourth year at the same rent. No price increase! Not to mention the awesome, rather quiet and predominantly, female neighbours. Every time something in my life doesn’t go according to my plan, I think back on this time and have a little chuckle. No, we didn’t get the property we had set our sights on. We got an even better one. Much, much better.

Perhaps when something fails. It’s not failure at all. Just a mere detour on the way to an even more suitable destination.

In his hugely successful book, ‘The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success’, Deepak Chopra talks about the Law of Least Effort. How struggling against what is, can take you further from where you are meant to be.

“When you struggle against this moment, you’re actually struggling against the entire universe. Instead you can make the decision that today you will not struggle against the whole universe by struggling against this moment.You accept things as they are, not as you wish they were in this moment…

…When you become defensive, blame others, and do not accept and surrender to the moment, your life meets resistance. You don’t want to stand rigid like a tall oak that cracks and collapses in the storm. Instead, you want to be flexible, like a reed that bends with the storm and survives”.

I just adore that analogy of the oak versus the reed. I’m very visual and I like to picture something to aspire to. Only now I’ve evolved the reed into the blow-up, colourful guys you see in front of car yards. Not only do they bend with the storm, they look like they’re having a little bit of a party.

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Don’t mistake the word ‘surrender’ for submission. Surrender means only acceptance of what is. You can still have plans and goals, but it simply means that some factors which are entirely out of your control will arise to change some of your plans on your way to your goal. Don’t waste effort wishing it was another way. Assess the situation as it is without attaching emotion to it, then reconfigure your plan to suit the status quo.

It makes me wonder if my friend Dan has Gemini luck, or if he is just so able to adapt to change that the universe constantly conspires in his favour.

My wish for you, is that you ride the wave of life as majestically as Mick Fanning on his surfboard. And if a shark jumps up at you, punch that sucker straight in the kisser!

Note: If you’re looking for some extra inspiration in living a more flexible, carefree life, I recommend:

  • ‘How to stop worrying and start living’ by Dale Carnegie
  • ‘The power of now’ by Eckhart Tolle
  • ‘The seven spiritual laws of success’ by Deepak Chopra
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So many frogs, so few Princes

Who looks back at old pictures of themselves and cringes?

If the secret to being happy is living in the present moment and not in the past or future, then Facebook really needs to stop showing me what happened on this day five years ago. But I guess Zuckerberg has bigger fish to fry right now.

It’s rarely at the way I used to look (well maybe my eyebrows), but I cringed this week when I saw an old photo of myself from a time when I was in a very unhappy place. It was taken at the lovely waterfront spot of Doyles Restaurant at Watson’s Bay by an ex-boyfriend. You might look at the photo and think I look peaceful, but I know myself, and I see deep sadness in my eyes.

Sometimes I think I miss my twenties: The energy to party all night and back it up at work the next day, the beautifully plump skin on my face, and spending money on oversees holidays without worrying about adult responsibilities. But I was lost. It was a good decade of being on a quest. A quest to figure out who the hell I was and what I deserved.

I’ve had two very toxic relationships. I know which one my family and friends probably think was my unhealthiest relationship (the one I liken to a case of Stockholm Syndrome). But for me it was the last relationship. Due mainly to the fact that I was nearly thirty when it began, and I thought I had taken all the steps to get myself into a healthy place, only to be sweet talked into the most soul destroying two years of my life. With a man who was too busy with his own ego to realise that there were two of us in the relationship. I won’t go into detail in this article (let’s save all the juicy details for a blog about narcissists).

This week, I want to focus on the overwhelming feeling of living with a man who makes you hear concertos in your head every time you think of him. A man who doesn’t talk himself up. A man who under promises and over delivers. A man who has my back, every second of every day.

Throw your vomit bags away, I’m not going to start gushing about the romance and how gorgeous he is (hot AF). I want to tell all the girls out there who remind me of my former self, that love isn’t actually that complicated at all. Sure, in the beginning there is a major teething process. You have to learn a lot about your partner, and they about you. There is a lot of compromise and understanding of each other’s values to ensure that you’re not compromising yours or his unwittingly.

Love is not possession. Love is not Facebook profiles pictures. And the lesson that took me far too long to learn is that love does not make you live in fear or a constant state of anxiety.

Being with my partner is the easiest thing in the world. It is effortless. I don’t for a second wish that it happened sooner either. For without the downfalls, I wouldn’t have had such a deep appreciation for the state I am in now. Failure is the condiment that gives success it’s failure.

A lovely old friend named Carly once told me that you have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince.  Boy was she right. Just be careful ladies, the frogs aren’t always green and will usually tell you that they are indeed your Prince Charming whilst having a drinking problem, a gambling problem and a secret online dating profile.

Makes you wonder doesn’t it? Maybe I was never really lost, maybe I was too busy being a compass for lost boys.

In a week where another Kardashian has been cheated on (no I do not follow any K girl on social media, but according to the internet, this was front page news) you have to ask yourself; what’s your currency?

Some girls seem determined to pick a mate based on status and income. I had a friend who used to select guys based on what car they were driving. When I met my man, he had a motorbike and an Opal Card…and I’ve never smiled this much in my whole life.

My currency always has been and always will be; love and happiness (Mazel Tov if you found a rich guy with a good heart). And upon assessing all of the relationships in my life today; I feel as rich as Gina Rinehart.

There’s a great little quote that says: Be with a guy who ruins your lipstick not your mascara. I switched over to waterproof mascara in my previous relationship because every night-out ended in tears and usually me catching a cab home to my parents’ house instead of going home with him. I still use waterproof mascara today because it makes my eyes pop! But the only tears that ruin my make up are due to laughing so hard that I ended up rolling around on the floor like a Looney Tunes character.

It’s ironic how being loved by the right people can make you feel so free.

I never gave up on finding the right man after a few false starts. After the last break-up, I took a good ten months to be by myself. Re-visit all the things I love like reading, writing, singing, dance classes and spending time with my girls. I knew that once I valued myself enough, the right mate would come along.

Of-course every relationship I have been in started with love and I do hope that they are very happy now and most importantly, treating their current partners with the love and respect they deserve (hey I put a lot of work in, someone should benefit).

For anyone out there struggling in an unhealthy relationship, I leave you with a line that I used to repeat on the daily, to remind myself that the distressed state I was in, wasn’t my final destination:

I’m a sundial in the shade; I’m not broken, I’m just in the wrong place.