All posts tagged: eclettica

The Fab 40s Do The Decade

40s, 50s, 60s? Which One Spells You?   Lately my mind has been preoccupied with the concept of courage.  Daring to do things I normally wouldn’t because I’d be too afraid.  Be it something as rudimentary as swapping signature red for a softer pink on the lips, or walking up to a complete stranger at an event and saying, “Hello!! I’m Sheela, what’s your name?”. Admittedly, accompanying that heady rush of adrenaline (aka bravado) is an equally powerful sense of nausea and wanting to throw up but still, courage and being courageous have been taking over my heart, mind and spirit these days. The courage to speak my mind when I feel my needs are not being met or when I believe my opinions are not being heard.  Courage to reach out and ask for something I know I deserve and am fully capable of helping it realise its full potential.  And no longer allowing society to dictate whether I can or cannot based on some unfathomable parameters.  Most of all, the courage to recognise …

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 …

My Week On Instagram

Things definitely started on a sweet note with this candy from my childhood.  I was stoked to see that HEB stocks them on a regular basis. Yes, I love spikes.  And studs. When temperatures soar, so too my culinary experiments.  Here’s my Belafonte-inspired Banana Boat Salad. Harking back to those days when I created jewellery.  Asymmetrical earrings were a personal fave particularly when incorporating fabrics and notions. I’m all about tribal motifs for Summer, in loud colours. Finally, I made it pass the 1200 calorie mark.  To understand what a feat this is, you need to know that morning cardio has always been a challenge for me.  The mother of all challenges.  But with my thyroid completely dying on me (thanks, Hashimoto’s), I’ve had to up my cardio just to keep up with things. So yeah, chalking 1500 calories on the treadmill felt phenomenal. The people at Glow Recipe are simply spectacular, and so too the products they carry.  Here’s something nifty, DIY Rubber Masks for the face.  These arrived on Saturday afternoon and I’ll …

I Am Weak

Forgive me, shoe gods, I have (once again) sinned. Le Objet du Désir. DANNIJO Zeppelin Boots.  Black.  Neon.  Glitter.  Cut-outs.  Combat Style.  Can you really blame me?   Love, SG Footnote:  I purchased these here, they were on sale from $325 and I ended up paying under $100.  Good times.

The Asian Dumpling Goes Out & About

Living up to the nickname I bestowed upon myself (hey, thanks, Poshmark team), I took a gander and braved the -1 Degree Celcius weather on Thursday afternoon.  Here are a handful of the photos I took while out and about. Truth be told, I didn’t snap as many as I’d expected nor hoped, and this was because, as I sadly realised, my Digital Camera (while perfect and wonderful for close, cropped shots) is simply not the appropriate tool for outdoor pictures.  It’s just not the right camera for that genre of photographs. In case you’re wondering, I took a shot of Waverly Place for my daughter who adores Selena Gomez and her TV series, “Wizards of Waverly Place”. After about 45 minutes of sauntering around, the tummy growled and I decided I fancied of a spot of Asian food (I know, right?).  Morimoto, it certainly wasn’t, but here’s what I had for a very late lunch at the Empire Szechuan Village which is located on 173 7th Ave. I had a chip with a dip.  …

My, Oh My, Morimoto-San

Although I did not get to meet you in person, Mr Iron Chef, I experienced the most sublime of culinary sensations at your Chelsea restaurant last night and it was quite the orgasmic nosh.  An affair I shall never forget.  Suffice to say, resistance was beyond futile, and we, my appetite and I,  succumbed rather happily to partaking of as many scintillating offerings as the waistline of my Cheetah print skinny jeans would allow.  Note to self: wear stretch pants the next time. I started with a Clam Miso Soup which was completely forgettable. Granted the molluscs were very fresh and the broth, light, but I was expecting something wow from the Iron Chef who brings his own Ice Cube-esque Smoker and creates furniture out of bread. Next, I had the Kakuni – now we’re talking.  AMAZING. Just AMAZING.  Morimoto’s take on the traditional Cantonese brekker of congee with braised pork belly was delicious, particularly with those light tendrils of crispy fried Sweet Spud.  It wasn’t a WOW moment, it was an OH MY GOD …