Don't judge me by my polish.

Just a quickie.

No seriously, I just had one.

I kid, I kid.

I've had BioSculpture nails for about a year and I yoyo from loving them sick, to being very tempted to buy a Luminail/Gellish/Shellac kit and do it myself.

I'm going to Soundwave tomorrow. Being the rockstar I am, I went to the salon (sounds so wanky) with a very clear idea of how I wanted my nails to look like. Which is unusual because I normally stare at the colour wheel for the whole time it takes her to shape my nails, crippled by indecision, before I finally point to a random colour and regret it immediately.

I told the nail lady and she looked at me incredulously and said, 'No. Black is a winter colour. It'll look tacky.'

Bitch please. I don't say anything about your Barbie pink with love heart feature nails mani, so time to get down off your high horse.

Too harsh?

Plus, I don't care if it's not winter yet, i'm lovin' them.

Have you ever gotten 'tude from someone in the beauty industry who you are paying? I'm not saying they should be subserviant and not have opinions, but I think if I want a particular look and want to pay for it, that she should probably just do it.

Opinions/Recollections/Thoughts/Discuss.

Be a Mexican, Not a Mexican't!

Please be very, very careful when reading out that post title.

Three of my close friends have birthdays only a week apart, so naturally every year there is triple-the-fun shindig in their honour.

This year, the three amigos decided to (quite logically) choose the theme of the party to be Mexican.

Naturally, my first thought was this costume-

Buy one here. Seriously, live my dream and do it.

Billasaurus, however patient the man is, drew a line at the taco suit. I got it in my head that there was no point in going alone as a taco, because really, who ever just has one taco? Unfortunately he wasn't so keen, and considering ive forced him to dress as the worlds tallest Gremlin before, I figure I'm still ahead.

So instead I went as Frida Kahlo!

I appear to have missed a little something during my last plucking session

The real and magnificent Frida herself-

I love the vibrant colours she used in her self-portraits, and her style. I think its pretty badass too not to pluck your monobrow and 'stache too- why should women feel ashamed of something that is quite normal? What percentage of men actually give a fuck? Definitely not the majority.

That being said, I shall continue to wax and pluck but admire the hell out of people who don't give a fuck.

The night began with pre-drinks at my tiny little flat (single file only, standing room but plenty of booze) drinking simply put, the beverage of The Gods.

Let me share with you this complicated recipe. Don't worry about a pen, I think you'll be able to recall it.

Source

I'm not joking- it tastes like magic and unicorns! To be more specific, it tastes just like the clear gummi bears! Where has this been all of my life?!

My skills with eye pencil drawing monobrows must be my hidden talent, because all night men were whispering and giggling in my direction. It was quite disconcerting, because I forgot that this little gem was painted upon my face. To be honest most of the time I was thinking, 'GOSH I KNOW IM NOT A PRETTY GIRL, BUT YOU DON'T HAVE TO FLAT OUT LAUGH IN MY FACE!!!'

Der. They were looking at the giant fuzzy caterpillar perched atop my brow.

It was actually quite the conversation starter, and there was one gentleman (I use this term loosely) who was obsessed with stroking my monobrow even though there was no actual hair there, and offered for me to stay the night at his residence.

I got the impression he wasn't keen on my despite the brow, but BECAUSE of it. Different strokes for different folks, hey?

"Doesn't Know She's Fat"

I am LIVID.

Source

Things are going to get heated here, so please be prepared for the full snark.

First things first- I am not a so called 'fat activist', don't write about the plight of being plus sized, and am not a member of the 'happy at any size' community.

However, I am fat. This is not me being self-depracting. I'm a size 16-18 and have bounced up and down in weight ranges for all of my teenage and adult life. Am I ultimately happy with my body? No, I'm not. That doesnt mean that others with a similar body shouldn't be- it just means I would prefer my body at a different size. I'm not hugely depressed about the body I have- whilst I am obese, I am also a kind, generous, and intelligent being who is worth more than what others perceive of my appearance.

I also don't mind if you feel that last sentence makes me conceited- if you can't toot your own horn, noone else will.

ENTER RANT. (Oh, did you think that was it? You're in for a treat.)

I was recently at a birthday party. That's not the shock- I have friends. Don't act so suprised. :)

My best friend P's boyfriend Jay (still with me?) was watching me closely on the dance floor. I noticed he would look at me, and then back at the Birthday Girl.

This is also where I have to announce I am a shithouse dancer. It doesnt stop me from getting up on that dancefloor, even sometimes being the first one on it, and doing whatever moves I can pull out. Oh the robot, the busstop, gosh even the sprinkler are coming on out. No holds barred- I have a great time too. I look like a drowning oompa-loompa with the flaily arms, but hey, you cant be good at everything, right?

I figure he is just admiring (read: mocking) my dancing so don't really think twice about it. That is until I flop on the chair next to J, exhausted from all of the arm swinging, leg twisting dance action.

"Hey Cindy...." J remarks slowly, leaning towards me.

"Birthday Girl doesn't know she is fat, does she?"

The only appropriate way to describe my reaction to the ass-hattery

WAIT, WHAT?

He goes on to explain that he means that "Birthday Girl hasn't clicked that she is fat yet. She is still flirting, wearing provocative clothes, and is loud and over confident. You act different to her- is it because you've been fat longer? You know you are fat and act like you should."

Oh, I see. So what you meant was that because the BIRTHDAY GIRL has put on weight, she should alter her whole personality to match the hatred the general populace has on anyone who is larger than average. She should stop flirting with men, HELL, she better not even talk to them, because she is now not worthy of even friendship or a laugh. Of course she should alter her personal style, and become an introvert because the crux of the matter is that now she is overweight, she should feel a deep shame about her very existence.

I'm sorry- I must have missed this part in the clause when I expanded out of a size 14 and received my official fat card in the mail.

Whilst he was trying to assure me that I act "accordingly" to my size, all he did was push his view that overweight women (Of course, I note his theory mentioned nothing on men, despite 1 in 4 men being overweight in Australia) should acknowledge that they are not only no longer attractrive, but are generally not wanted. Their opinions are invalid, their experiences void, and no matter what unique thoughts or feelings she may have they are irrelevent if men do not find her sexually attractive.

What does one even say to someone like that?!

How We Met- Happy Love Day

Happy Love Day!

In honour of the this annual love fest, I thought I would share the story of how Billasaurus Rex stole my heart- how we first met.

It's Ok- he didnt actually steal my heart

'Tis a long sprawling tale, of true love overcoming all obstacles. Not really.

The scene: It's 2001.

-Big Brother in all its scandalous glory premieres on Australian TV.
- John Howard is PM
- Moulin Rouge is released
- and finally, and most importantly: Britney and Justin (no last name needed people) rock up to the VMAS in these little treasures

I know.

I was 14, and heavily into butterfly clips, glitter gel, blue eyeliner stolen from my sister, and large, basketball sized hoop earrings. Yes, altogether. Dont be a hater.

Whilst you contemplate how cool I was (and continue to be, thankyou very much) I feel I must paint the whole picture. I was a Scout (- 6,000,000,000 cool points), had not yet discovered eyebrow tweezing despite my monobrow sprouting out of my head and practically screaming at me to address it, I had prominent buck teeth, and I literally had not yet packed away my doll house and Barbie collection.

My best friend however had developed a little more rapidly. She was the same age as I, but was blonde and curvy in all the places I did not yet know I needed to be. She lived next door to our local skate park, and the skater boys had given her the nickname TNA (Tits N Ass.) She wore that name like a tarty badge.

I was SO JEALOUS. When would the skater boys objectify me, dammit?!

Whilst my friend went on dates every weekend to drink Southern Comfort stolen from her dads liquor cabinet with boys, I stayed at home and drew pictures of unicorns.

Whilst my friend bleached her hair and was so sophisticated she "got layers" in her hair, I brushed over my thick unruly curls, not brushing it properly and developing thick dreadlocks underneath.

Seriously, I was surely only a week away from this

One weekend my friend ran up to me excitedly and said she had showed some friend of her latest boyfriend's my picture- and he thought I was cute!

My brain exploded. Whaa???? Someone thought I was cute?! A BOY thought I was cute?

Nevertheless, I wasnt going to argue.

"He wants to go on a date with you! We'll make it a double date!"

I had a date! I had a date? A date!

And then the terror creeped in. I had a date.

In preparation, my girlfriend stayed over the night before. She put my hair in a million rags so it would look full and sexy and kinda like it had been permed.

We watched a movie to help get me in a fun light hearted mood-

Source: imdb.com

If it was meant to prevent me from sleeping and keep me up all night, it was working.

During the movie, whilst pinning my rags torturously tight to my head, my friend slips in the fact that this boy wasnt just any boy- he was an OLDER boy. He was 17!

I lied awake all night, half terrorised from IT, and half freaking the fuck out over this date. An OLDER BOY?

He would be sophisticated! (Heh. If only I knew then what I know now about 17yo boys.) He would be a Year 10! He would be...the perfect bragging story to take back to my other school friends on Monday! (If I every survived this date)

We were seeing Evolution at our local cinema. I stole my sisters JOOP! perfume, and wore every butterfly clip I had ever owned in my hair.

It's worth mentioning at this stage that those well-intendd rag curls had not quite gone to plan. It looked like I had teased my hair to its limits, then placed the butterfly clips on the top like a delicate, ridiculous nest.

We met the boys and my friend and her bf made out whilst this guy Billasaurus Rex and I stood there awkwardly. I stared at my feet whilst I shuffled them.

Finally the awkwardness of conversation had ended and we went into the cinema. I was relieved that I didnt have to chat for a while, and that the awkwardness was over for atleast the duration of the movie.

OH, HOW WRONG I WAS.

During the credits, this Billasaurus chap and I made a little chit-chat. He was funny! He didnt seem that suave for a 17yo...but what did I know? Maybe he was a sex fiend.

He told me that he had left high school and was working full-time. WOW. HE WAS SO SOPHISTICATED. I made a mental note not to tell him about all the unicorn pictures I had drawn. And definitely dont mention you still on occasion play with your Barbies.

The movie started, and was very funny.

There were some mildy cringe-worthy moments, like when our hands touched trying to access the salty gold that is popcorn. I snatched my hand away as soon as his brushed mine, thinking that I was annoying to him when he was trying to get to the popcorn. I thought of my brothers- they REALLY didnt like it if anything got in the way of their food.

AND THEN, IT HAPPENED.


He tapped me on the shoulder. My whole body blushed, and Im sure I was heating up the whole room with my blushing.

He leaned in like he was going to kiss me. KISS ME? I hadnt prepared for this! Holy shit!

He went left- I went to the left too. He went right- I awkwardly did too. For atleast 5 seconds we were bobbing our heads to either side, frantically just wishing for the other one to figure it out so it wasnt so freaking awkward. I would have looked like a deer in the headlights!

Finally, he commits to one side that he will lean in and kiss me on. He comes closer.....

I close my eyes....

...closer again....

THUD.

HE HEADBUTTED ME IN THE FACE?

I gave him a look of pure confusion, that conveyed all the What-The-Fuckery that was going on in my head.

He couldn't meet my eye, and shrank in his chair.

As soon as the movie was over, we didnt hang about. We both begged our respective friends to leave straight after the credits rolled, and did not say a word to each other after.

And not another word was said between us for another 10 years, when one day at a bar I was approached by a friendly, handsome man who said to me, 'Hey- didn't I headbutt you once?'


x

Stranded

Today, I got locked in the disabled toilets at work with noone else in the whole building to free me.

Im usually the last to leave in our building. I'm a team leader and like to stay on a bit to do all those little things I have put off during the day without interruption.

Tonight was no different.

I went to the bathroom before I left for the day. I usually use the disabled toilets for two reasons-

1. We dont have any disabled people employed here so its always free

2. It's my own protest about our only other toilet being situated off the kitchen. Yes. OFF THE KITCHEN. I find that quite gross, don't you?

So here I am, happily doing my business, washing my hands etc.

I tug the handle to get out and...it's stuck.

My stomach drops.

I wiggle it some more.

I start to panic, because this bathroom has always reminded me a little bit of the one from Saw. Ive never seen a dead body lying in the middle of it, but surely that could happen any day.

Then the automatic light turns off.

Aaargh!

I wiggle the door hysterically, yelling out. No use- everyone else has gone home.

My phone isnt even in my pocket!

There were tears. Im ashamed to admit it.

I tried to McGyver the lock with my hairpins, but without vision this seemed to be an unlikely scenario.

Finally, I slumped down against the door and sat there, with no energy or the will to cry out anymore. I had resigned myself to the fact I was simply staying the night here.

I even did a weak little smile at the thought of me being the very first in the office tomorrow, which never happens.

By this stage I thought I had been confined for HOURS.

Suddenly, I bolt upright. I reach about 4cms under the lock I have been jiggling, scratching, banging and poking at for what felt like eternity, and simply turned the little latch.

I was so caught up in my own hysteria, that I could have simply OPENED THE DOOR PROPERLY the whole time.

Doh.

The kicker? I looked at the clock when I got out, and I had only been in that dreaded toilet for 21 minutes.

I'm so using the toilet that is off the kitchen from now on.