All posts filed under: ootd

23,040 Minutes

23,040 minutes. Or, if you prefer, 384 hours.   That’s precisely how long I’ve been staying at Camden Holly Springs.  The place I’ve called home since 22nd August.  Seems so odd to say that.  As is doing things by myself.  Normal, everyday things such as taking out the trash.  Pumping gas into the car, going to the car wash too.  Cooking for one (I still keep cooking far too much but I’ll get the portions right eventually, I know it).  Getting acquainted with a washer and dryer that aren’t Samsung red boom boxes. Realising that I can decorate things however I please (hence the red couch, moo moo cube, tray tables, bedroom furniture, and night lamps).  Yes, in case it wasn’t already apparent, I’m going with black, red and white with touches of grey/chrome 🙂 I shan’t lie, it’s going to take a while to get accustomed to these (shall we call them) adjustments but I know they’re part of the process in this journey towards my new norm.  And I look forward to embracing …

The Girls

Breasts. Tits. Boobs. Whatever you may call them.   Yes, however you may refer to them, my breasts are my most significant area of body insecurity.  Ever so quintessentially clichéd, I’m fully aware.  Allow me to clarify.  Yes, the insecurity pertains to size but perhaps not quite in the way you think.  I’ve never once desired to be a cup I am not.  To provide some provenance, pre-Eve, I was a 34B.  Right after having Eve, I stayed 34D for a long time.  Then I went to being a 36B, and now, I’m at 34AA.  Clearly, lingerie stores have had me to singularly support their existence these past few years, what with all that yo-yo movements of my cleavage (you’re welcomed). So, my bone of contention is that I do not crave more but I yearn to regain what I’ve lost through the years of weight fluctuations and intensive workouts.  I want to be a 34B again. No more, no less. I’ll be the very first one to admit that it IS a lot easier …

What Makes You, You?

Ya, boo. What makes you, you?   A simple prompt from the awesome Jodie, about the versatility of denim, gave rise to the question of what makes you, you.  Is it your external self with its specific composition of water, protein, connective tissue, fats, bones, carbohydrates and DNA?  Or, conversely, is it how that external facade is packaged namely dress style, trimmings (body art, ink, etc), hair colour? Or, as a third alternative. is it how we think and behave that dictates and makes us who we are?  Our moral guidelines, our moral code?  Our beliefs? Could it be all of the above? I rather think so. After all, at the end of the day, our physical selves take instructions from our minds, our emotions.  How we feel manifests itself into how we conduct ourselves, how we appear in the eyes of the world. As I explain myself, I am also reminded of an impromptu conversation with a friend, Michael, just a fortnight ago.  This oh so articulate and creative friend revealed how he’d often …

What’s In A Name

Truly, I ask you. What’s in a name these days?   Cosmetic brands have been concocting all sorts of names for their lippies since the longest time ever. And it makes sense too given how saturated the landscape has become. Everyone appears to be releasing make-up lines from established players kicking out new collections, to names you’d typically associate with garments, not beauty, looking to cash in on a woman’s (neverending) pursuit of that perfect pout. It’s practically a new lippie a day. Actually, more. From a business perspective, it makes perfect sense. I’m as commitment phobic as the next woman when it comes to beauty purchases. Afterall, how many nude shades can one wear at any given time? And you can’t really be walking out of the house with smokey eyes every day because, you know, we crave variety. As such, most of us are hesitant to commit to palettes of colour but think nothing of forking out anything from $5 to $50 for what promises to prime and plump, and take us from …

Receiving Compliments

Err. Emm. Errr. Why can’t we accept compliments?   I’ve come to realise something recently.  Well, no, actually, it’s been pointed out to me by my husband in the past, and rather frequently too, but I simply never quite took stock of it.  Sorry, my love, for not listening to you, but you’re always so biased, in my favour, I don’t know when to believe what you say (I love you!!) So yes, that one thing I’ve developed awareness of?  That women are, basically, terrible when it comes to accepting compliments, and yes, I’m part of that statistic.  And this isn’t even a new phenomenon upon which we can blame, oh I don’t know, the current sexist administration?  I digress.  It would seem that the vast majority of my species feels uncomfortable in the face of unsolicited kudos.  We stutter and get all awkward, guilty even (dare I say).  And shuffle most uncomfortably towards the guaranteed death of said conversation. W H Y I S T H A T ? To determine if this was …

Desensitising

To free oneself from a phobia. Via gradual exposure to the thing that is feared.   Lately, I’ve been wrestling with how much to share on the blog.  And not for myself, actually, but for my family who may will be affected by the things I choose to reveal.  Even though this is my outlet to express myself fully, and let it all out, the fact of the matter is, I always worry how the things I write about might affect the people I love.  Because I know for a fact that my parents read my posts.  Eve (and her friends) read my posts.  And for those reasons, I do not fully disclose my thoughts nor do I talk about everything in my head. I wish I could though. Just let everything gush forth without a care in the world. I T W O U L D B E I M M E N S E L Y L I B E R A T I N G Does it come as a surprise to …

It’s Bagel Time

Baked goodies. Breads. Donuts. Bagel Balls.   { before you proceed further, check back tomorrow for a new column I’m introducing } { okay, now go forth and read GRIN } One of the things I enjoy most about being a content producer is trying and testing new things.  Be they garments or cosmetics or skincare.  Whoever tells you that they don’t like love the perks of being a blogger or influencer is just lying through their teeth, I promise you.  It’s a glorious sensation being on the receiving end of things be they debuting or a golden oldie.  And whilst I don’t typically accept digestibles or foods, thanks to my numerous allergies, once in a (yummylicious) moon, I do.  When something incredibly unique or different pops up on the laptop screen and piques my interest. Like Bagel Balls. You heard me. B A G E L B A L L S Imagine the level of curiousity I experienced when I first heard from Bantam Bagels.  I was like, “What on earth is a Bagel …

A Velvet Suit For Play & Other Things

Hello there, friends. I’m so glad you’ve returned.   Today’s post is going to be a short one, because I’m headed off to Dallas for a wedding and to see my boo (happy face, happy heart).  But I wanted to talk about something which has been bothering me for a while now. I know quite a few of you take your own photos, and an equally large number, hire photographers to do the job, myself belonging to that latter category.  And for those in the same camp as me, I want to know your thoughts about working with the same photographer, consistently and continuously. H O W D O Y O U F E E L A B O U T T H A T ? On one hand, it’s so much easier when you keep working with the same person. You learn each other’s quirks, what sort of poses and movements work (or more importantly, do not), and over time, a sense of ease sets in, shoots are fast, concise and efficient. Just like …

A Velvet Suit & A Peek Into My Life 4

Peekaboo, again, world. I’ve missed you ever so much.   Oh my goodness.  How long has it been?  Almost a full month since my last post.  Good lord.  I have been completely drowning under an ocean of work commitments, and finding myself in the pernicious position of needing to choose between sleep or blog when the sun goes down, and my cellphone stops ringing.  Or lighting up with text messages.  Thus far, clearly, I’ve chosen to try and catch some rest.  At the detriment of my writing, clearly. Although sleep hasn’t been particularly affectionate either, opting to abandon me as I became (even closer) bosom buddies with insomnia.  Fact: I’ve been plagued by the inability to sleep since 12, 13 years old but it’s become much worse with age.  Back then, I could grapple and get around 5 to 6 hours of sleeps most nights.  These days, it’s a vicious cycle.  I don’t sleep a wink for 3 to 4 nights (as in zero sleep) then pass out for the next 2, perhaps 3 nights, …

Self Reflection – Questions To Ask Yourself, Part 3

The capacity for self scrutiny. (Re)discovering purpose and essence.   At long last. My third and final part of a series that was inspired by what Chriselle published on New Year’s Eve.  My opening thoughts were shared here, the follow-up here, and today, as promised, I’m revealing my responses to concluding Questions 7 to 9. Honest. Raw. Zero filters. L E T’S G 0, B A B Y 7. Who has helped me, been influential, or impacted my life last year? This one is easy.  And fairly predictable.  I would say my husband, Pierluigi, and my daughter, Eve.  They are so different in personality but completely identical in being my champions, my number one fans.  And truthful ones at that.  Equally forthcoming with the bricks as well as the bouquets (albeit the former would be dished out in a delicate fashion to preserve my feelings, but dished out nonetheless). From every perspective be it professional or personal. Physical or emotional. I would wither away and die without them. 8. What am I really proud of? …