Splitting hairs - Beauty vs Fundraising

Last weekend I embarked on a significant personal journey: I travelled from my home town of Brisbane to Mission Beach (FNQLD) to shave all my hair off. Yes. You read right. I’m a mad woman. I’ve been told – more than thrice.


Let me explain myself:

Earlier this year I became a campaigner for 100 Things and wrote out my list of things I want to do before I die. Number 6 on that list was to cut all my hair off. I’ve always had long hair, and, in the spirit of 100 Things, this really pushed me out of my comfort zone. A very close family friend, Scotty, passed away on the 6th June this year from Cancer, and in my heart, I quietly felt I would do this as a nod to him.


A couple of months ago, I received an invitation from a colleague to attend a ‘Clip for Cancer’ fundraiser as moral support. It was in memory of his friend who passed away on 9th June this year.

I figured, this was the perfect opportunity – I would join in on the big clip with eight other people; tick an item off my list and do it for a good cause = Perfect. I was excited.


My initial logic was “I’ll just have a short do for a while, No big deal”. But I was profoundly surprised at the enormity of this experience through reactions of those around me, and the experience itself.


Whilst the majority of responses I received were a mixed bag of support, excitement, encouragement , and even indifference; I did get the occasional horrified loved one negotiating my decision, and in the final hours, desperately turning the negotiation into the actual length of the cut itself.


As the date drew closer, and more conversations were had on the topic, it became clearer to me that this was a bigger deal to those around me than I had ever imagined! People told me I was “brave” and “generous”…and “crazy”. I’m not the first person to do this; but the idea (particularly for women) of losing their hair was anything from laughable to mortifying.


Having always had long hair, and just going with the default style I presumed always suited me, it’s not something I’ve ever really thought about before, but it has left me pondering what it is that is so important about our hair?

My friends thinking about me with short hair.

One of the most common questions was “What does your partner think of this?”. He, of course, is fine with it, and pulled out some safe chestnuts like “She’s beautiful no matter what” and “90% of her is still going to look the same!” (God bless his cotton socks), but after a while, that question became quite offensive to me.


People genuinely thought my boyfriend would find me less attractive with short hair! I am not my hair! Having a haircut won’t automatically morph my face into that of some unrecognisable wilderbeast! Yet, people thought it was perfectly natural for both of us to kiss my femininity goodbye and get used to a sub-standard version of my aesthetics. Odd.

An artist's impression of what Richard's mates and my Mum imagined I would look like post-clip

On the day, I travelled to Cairns and drove myself 2 hours south on what was one of the most beautiful drives I have ever done (complete with sun showers, and tropical greenery) and arrived tired, hot, and dusty at Castaways Resort. Opening my hotel room door I was welcomed by one of the most blissful views – 50 metres away was a lining of palm trees and the beach. Just stunning.

View from my hotel room...Ahhhh.

Only a few minutes to soak in the little piece of paradise I was blessed to be in, before I was to start getting ready for the cocktail party where the ‘big clip’ was taking place.


I started to get nervous. I spoke with two family members before leaving my room – one was for, one was against. I didn’t need the eleventh hour discouragement but before we hung up I was told I had support. Thank you.


I chose to wear a silk navy dress that my niece gave me for my 30th birthday; the same dress I wore to Scotty’s funeral. That choice was easy. I toyed with the idea of doing something fancy with my long blonde hair, considering this would be the final formal occasion I would have such an opportunity for quite some time. But I rationalised it was getting cut off anyway. Plus it was hot. And frankly, at this point in time, I was genuinely sick of my hair. I was happy about the idea of no longer having to wrestle with it every day. I pulled it back in a pony. Asked for strength, and headed out on my own.


At the party I sought out my work mate, Saul, who was the entertainment for the night. He was the only person I knew in a crowd of approximately 200, and he would be busy all night. We had a quick chat before he went on stage, and then I assumed my default position at the bar.

 

 

Me & Saul before the clip

 

 

 

 

Patiently seeking out the host of the party, Katrina, and trying not to get in anyone’s way, I felt like a charlatan. The odd one out. I was at an event that was a partial fundraiser for Melanoma and part memorial for the brother of the host who passed away earlier this year. I had never met him. Every person attending the event was family, friend or a member of the closely knit Tully community. I just had to throw myself in make conversation.


As I moved through the crowd, I was introduced to Katrina. Half expecting an “Oh hi. You’re the crazy Clip Crasher”, I put on my best, humble smile that said “Thanks for having me in this very private, emotional event”. As soon as she saw me her eyes beamed, her smile wide and genuine. She threw her arms around me and gave me a hug as though we were long-lost friends “Monique! It is so good to meet you! Thank you so much for being here and for everything you’ve done!” She then enthusiastically reached to people around her; her best friend, her Mum, her father, her husband; to introduce them all to me. It was a relief, a joy and privilege being part of this amazingly heart-felt community spirit.


I eased in and chatted with many people – every single one of them was just lovely. I met the other people who were also having their hair shaved that night – all immediate family of Glen’s. Even though they welcomed and accepted me with open arms, I was still the odd one out! Still, I was really glad I was doing this with other people, and not alone.


Katrina’s friend, Tina, and Saul’s roadie, Josh and I hung out a lot as the three of us didn’t know anyone - Turns out I wasn’t alone!


The sense of community, spirit, support, and love from everyone was amazing. It was reminiscent of how I felt at wakes I have attended in the past. Through melancholy and grief, people are united – even complete strangers. I was overwhelmed at how welcoming and loving these people were to me – Someone they had never met, and they treated me as though I was a member of the family.


Katrina had her hair shaved first, and along with every person after her, went completely bald – razor and all. She was brave, and as I watched with a smile on my face, I was feeling her mixed emotions – a high from the night, and what she was accomplishing – but also sadness for her brother; the reason she was there doing what she was. She looked beautiful, and carried a bald head so well! Her entire family followed, including a late entry by their grandmother (well into her eighties, I’m told). What a legend! That was so cool.


At around 9pm it was my turn. I sat on a chair reserved for me on the dance floor and met the Barber and Hairdresser who had volunteered their services for the night. I asked to play Queen’s ‘Don’t Stop me Now’, as that was Scotty’s song.


All the girls with long enough hair had their pony tails auctioned to be cut off. Saul put a $50 note in my hand and had the privilege of relieving me of my trusses. I don’t know if the scissors were blunt or that my hair is just that thick and stubborn, but it took a long time to saw through it, and to be honest it hurt quite a bit. I was trying not to be a sook, but whoever was taking photos at that time would have got some doozies. I heard some clapping. 200 odd faces were looking back at me. My pony was bagged up and dropped in my lap. “Holy shit”. I just stared at it. I have no idea what I felt at that moment. Apprehension? Shock? Numb?


“No turning back now”. The hum of the razor honed in closer to my head. I could hear Freddy Mercury in the background “Don’t stop me now….” It couldn’t have been a better fit of a song, but it did make me sad. I thought about Scotty. I wouldn’t allow myself to cry. I didn’t want people thinking I was crying for my hair!


Then I turned to see someone sitting next to me. It was Josh – he decided at the last minute to go the clip too! Now I wasn’t the only non-family member in the group!


Before I knew it the cape was being torn off me and I was the new owner of a Number 4! Yeah! People clapped and came up to congratulate me. I was overwhelmed with compliments. I felt relief, and also a little bit flat – after such a long build up – that was it!

First pic of me post-clip

When I first went to the bathroom after the cut, I avoided looking at myself in the mirror. I think a part of me was sacred that I wouldn’t like it. But I eventually did, and yes it was very weird. I didn’t recognise myself. “What have I done?” I shook my head and smiled at myself.


All the baldies had our photos taken together, and the rest of the night was spent chatting and soaking in the beautiful views. I took my shoes off and walked out to the water’s edge. I needed a couple of minutes to myself to let what had happened sink in.

'Team Paradise' - Post clip

I looked out at the pictueresque setting of the ocean, the palm trees, and the full moon reflecting on the water. The feeling I had all night, was even though it was a leap and uncomfortable to start with, I knew I was exactly where I needed to be at that time in my life. A lot of people thought it was strange that I was travelling so far to be with strangers, to have my hair chopped off! I can’t argue that it was an impractical and strange decision, but I followed my gut and know I did the right thing for myself.


The next morning I enjoyed a swim that, for the first time, wasn’t followed by a 30 minute production of shampoo and hair drying and frustration. In the shower, though, I did shampoo it, and it felt so weird! You already know I’m crazy, so this won’t surprise you, but I started laughing at myself. I just stood there shampooing my hair laughing hysterically. Me and my hair are funny.


I had breakfast with the Knights and Eadies and bid farewell to a beautiful group of people I now consider great friends. I couldn’t have asked for a better group of people to share this experience with.


So, one week into my new ‘do’ and I am still glad I did it. I have received more compliments in the last five days than I have in the last five years! For some reason people don’t feel strange complimenting a girl with short hair, when they would think it inappropriate to gush over someone’s’ looks with longer hair. Either that or they just feel sorry for me, and feel they need to overcompensate. I don’t care though. I’m sticking with the former :)


I do actually feel more beautiful, funnily enough. Having been relieved of the drama of long hair, I’m freer to just be me. I have no choice – nothing to hide behind. I like it!


I still haven’t figured out the reason for our attachment to hair and why this is such a big deal. But it is a big deal. Just not for all the reasons people talk about. I’m glad I did it.




You can still donate to Katrina Knight’s fundraising page here.


Seek out facts & learn about early detection of Melanoma here.


Check out my 100 Things list here.

Feminism and Ageism: Gone wrong

In my defense....

I’ve pulled back from blogging recently. Not just because I’ve been flat-out with work and uni, but because I copped a bit of flak from my recent blog about women, and I took it a bit personally.

I do have a tendency to be a bit sensitive. So I probably shouldn’t be blogging…I know. But I want to have a crack at writing, and blogging helps me practice. I openly say I’m practicing because I know I don’t know everything, and my intention has always been to share a constructive dialogue so my peers and I can learn and grow together.

After a barrage of criticism ,I reatreated back into my cave, and declared that I’m best not expressing any opinions publicly, because, according to many strangers in cyber-space – I’m an idiot. A young, ill-informed, idiot.

According to my critics, I’m an idiot because I am ‘young’; which is a bullshit argument with a moving target. There are advanced young people and unevolved seniors, so, sorry – not a good enough argument in my (young, idiotic) opinion.

So, for those of you who didn’t get the memo, as I didn’t, just getting you all up to speed that whence reading opinion blogs, one must be guided by this simple equation:

young = wrong

In the blog that I copped all this criticism, including a Twitter stalk from some condescending stranger, I discussed observations that women tend to complain about a glass ceiling that in some organisations, doesn’t actually exist. All they have to do is ask; amp up their negotiating skills, and they probably will get what they want.

I also observed that this is a confusing time for men because the lines are being blurred.

There are still atrocities and injustices against women happening everyday all over the world. I'm not ignoring or undermining that. That is what should be fought – Not the petty unjustified man-hating that goes on amongst many western womens' circles. But alas, I was told I am ‘young’ and therefore I am wrong.

The other disappointing irony for me is, I work in aged care and I am a passionate supporter and advocate of our elders. I aspire to wisdom that the older people in our society possess, and I take respect and care for them very seriously. I sit with residents in our facilities often, and get so much enjoyment from talking with them, and learning from them.

Not a single person over the age of seventy has ever called me an idiot (It seems one must be aged forty - sixty to be considered wise and worldy enough to determine who is young and stupid). In fact, many of them have enjoyed the conversation with me as much as I have with them, and mutual enlightenment is shared.

So, should I take it personally that people are jumping down my throat? No, I don’t believe so. For two reasons:

1) I am validated by the fact that the majority of my friends, colleagues, clients and associates are older than me, and I am regularly complimented by my intelligence and insight by people several decades my senior;

2) The blogosphere it rife with idiots, so why shouldn’t I join the fun?

So, what is ‘young’? I know some nineteen year olds that would freak out at the idea of being thirty. But I was told recently that I have twenty-two years of learning to go before I know how things really work. So everyone’s an idiot until Fifty-two. Are you listening Mark Zuckerberg? Malala Yousafzai ? Gaga? Yeah, pull your heads in. Someone on Twitter said so. And no, no-one has heard of them.


Idiot out.

Simple ways you can help your beloved politicians/The hypocrisy of those who want democracy

Geez, we’re an angry bunch lately, aren’t we?!

It’s probably my own fault for subscribing to Facebook pages of Insight, Q&A, and the like - exposing myself to heated arguments about the state of Australian politics, racism, and feminism – as opposed using Facebook the way it is intended and directing my own photo shoot of cleavage-bound self-portraits.

Our petty, Australian in-fighting is really annoying me, when we live in a complex, dynamic world that seems to be against itself in every way possible. Politicians in particular, are fair game. They can’t mutter the words “experience with families” without getting bludgeoned by a media-induced mob.

I’m one of the most verbal critics of both sides of Australian politics. I have persevered with Question Time, I really have. But I think my record is around three minutes for sustaining viewing before switching the TV off in a frustrated rage (and that was back in my early-twenties when I was too stoned to find the remote any quicker).

I have no patience for conversations that focus on blame shifting, externalising, and talking-over the opponent. It’s unproductive and alienating. So I’d like to ask our pollies to stop it. Just stop with the sandbox slinging match and please, for love of Oprah, get on with it!

But lately, I wonder if these poor socially retarded souls just need a little less harsh criticism from we, the people, and perhaps, a little more of a helpful nudge in the right direction? Perhaps all that time at law school just sapped them of their empathy, and ability to read people (whom are screaming at them in blind fury)?


Australia, our politicians need our help.

And all it takes is two simple steps:
1) Looking inwards; and
2) A lovely little cliché about the goose and the gander, to help remind us all to stay on track.

We don’t even talk about the importance of democracy in Australia because we’ve always had it. It’s our God-given right as Australians to say whatever we like! But God-forbid someone have an opinion that contradicts yours! I hate to say it, I really do, but you know it’s bogans I’m talking about.

If we want our politicians to not be hypocrites, then…goose and gander, my friends…goose and gander. I think that if we want our “leaders” to do better, we need to set the example.


Come on fellow Aussies, let’s show Canberra how it’s done:

I have a list of suggestions of how we, the people, can make some slight tweaks in our general conversation and actions to positively influence our Politicians (but probably more so; our media) into greater productivity on our money, and talk about things that are interesting*, as opposed to how wrong the other person is:


1. Stop saying “I grew here, you flew here”.
That makes you a bogan, and an arsehole.
This will hopefully influence Bob Katter.

2. Stop saying “Fuck off, we’re full”.
That makes you an uneducated bogan, and an arsehole.
This will hopefully help the eradication of the One Nation Party (yes, they’re still around).

3. Stop using your company credit card to buy shit you’re not supposed to.
That makes you a hypocrite.
Remember: Goose & Gander!

4. Stop bludging on welfare.
That makes you a hypocrite with bad teeth.
Remember: Goose & Gander!

5. Stop saying anything that stereotypes Muslims and ATSI’s.
See item number 2.

6. Don’t magnify a person’s physical flaws as a way to insult and embarrass them.
That makes you the media.

7. Don’t exaggerate when you’re trying to describe how awful a person is.
That makes you the media.

8. Don’t make it personal.
That makes you Alan Jones/an idiot.

9. Don’t take it personal.
That makes you a woman (Stop it! I’m kidding!). I meant, it just looks like you’re deflecting from the real issue at hand, when you try to make out that you’re taking it personal.

10. Don’t raise your voice.
It suggests you don’t have anything intelligent to say.
This might help…every member on the front bench.

11. Don't say that one person's point of view is wrong, but offer no solution yourself.
That makes you...a politician.



So there you have it; my tips on how to help our pollies be less annoying.

I can’t put this any other way – everything starts at home.




*Interesting according to the author does not include the following: strippers, credit cards, any sentence with word ‘slipper’ in it, Tony Abbott, Julie Bishop, Christopher Pyne, Christopher Pyne going on Q&A, Julia Gillard’s skirts, Julia Gillard’s haircut, Julia Gillard’s accent, Julia Gillard’s feelings, Julia Gillard’s lack of feelings, Julia Gillard.




For more hypocrisy head to Facebook, where there will be no self-portraits or cleavage (sorry/you're welcome).

A Government ruling in a ageist society

“Ship em off”

Was basically what I heard from Tim Nicholls, The QLD Treasurer, tonight as I watched his dismissive response when pressed about the two Moreton Bay Aged Care facilities that have been marked for closure.

Do you know why?
They are on state-owned, beachfront property; and they are marked for development. Yeah.

Is anyone else’s blood boiling?

I am aware that I am a bit unusual (shhh) in that I have profound and deep roots to the senior members of my family, and I consider myself an advocate for the elderly. I had a very deep connection with my grandparents, who I considered not just the matriarch and patriarch who were due respect and courtesy, and deserved my time, but they were my mates. We enjoyed each other’s company, and had fun together. I miss them painfully, every single day.

From this comes an empirical understanding of the pivotal role the elders in our community; their wisdom, their insight, their experience, and their reason. I am ashamed and embarrassed as westerner to say that our society does not reflect this.

The first world thrives on and encourages busyness, so we’re all forgiven for casting aside the slower-moving members of society, such as the elderly and disabled, because “we don’t have time” (which is bullshit, let’s be real here).

We live in a ageist society; constantly condoning and driving messages of “anti-ageing” this and “youthful” that; Putting mindless teenagers on pedestals, and idolising lyrics like “Ooh baby, ooh baby” instead of learning from the older and wise. We’re not allowed to do what comes naturally, and just get older without being airbrushed, or surgically enhanced, or judged, or even worse (and most often the case) ignored.

We muzzle and invalidate the very people whom we should be listening to the most.
We are doing ourselves an injustice; because communities are strengthened with knowledge; and I don’t care how smart you are, and how many years of academia you have under your belt – life experience is the trump card every time, my friends. Your grandparents, your great uncle, the lady at the bus stop, old mate at the RSL, the people in nursing homes – they have the answers. You might be all connected, and know what’s going on now, but the real insights about life – it’s the older people of our society that have them. You can’t buy that kind of wisdom.

Mr Nicholls of the government I certainly did not vote for (hate to say I told you so, fellow Queenslanders), obviously has not had this epiphany, otherwise he wouldn’t have made himself look like even more of an insensitive phallus by blurting out the words “Plans have been made for several of them to be relocated to other facilities” (Add burdened, dull, tenor in voice to enhance how boring he considered the topic to be).

Right, so by “them”, you’re referring to “humans”, right? Humans who are not only of the most senior in society, and whose respect and care we should hold paramount in all our communities, but also the frailest? And you propose to just rip them out their HOMES, and shove them in another one, against their will? That’s the most fucking brilliantly compassionate and genius plan this soulless government has had to date.

How dare he speak of this with such drudgery, in defense of his office’s deliberate decision to upheave these poor people, disenfranchising them, upsetting them, and potentially un-doing a lot of the good work of the care staff in those facilities, without so much as a “sorry”. Hell, chuck in a token “with regret” or something, to make you seem a bit less heartless and stupid.

The people of the Moreton Bay community have every right to be mad with the government for this decision. And they are mad because the people who made the call obviously have no idea how this works, and exactly how complex caring for the aged is, otherwise they wouldn’t have done it.

If you'd like information on the opposal, see the Queensland Nurses Union.

I encourage every person to seek out a conversation with a senior person. Slow down the pace, work yourself up to a state of patience, show your interest, and listen. Listen for as long as you can and just soak up everything they have to say like a Life-class sponge. I promise you it will enlighten and enliven your soul.

I know you probably disagree. That’s because you’re young...and don't have time. :P

Continue the conversation on Facebook.

Sisters are doing it to themselves.

I am a feminist. Why? Because, as Caitlin Moran puts it: a) I have a vagina; and b) I want to be in charge of it. It shouldn’t be any more complicated than that.

As a feminist, and proud owner of one said vagina, I am increasingly compelled to look at the current feminist position, and wonder exactly what it is “we’re” all “fighting” for?

I am a regular reader of sites such as Jezebel and The Hoopla, and I see a lot of angry, heated-up women demanding “respect”, and shouting on cyber rooftops for “equality”, and pouncing like a pack of wild, hungry mountain cats, on any unfortunate male who happens to string three words together in the “wrong” order.

Can we just hit the pause button for a minute, and someone get me up to speed on what’s happening with this movie, because, before I slipped out for a toilet break, things were going pretty good for women here in the lucky country, as far as I, a woman, could see.

Every woman I have personally come in contact with in my thirty years living in our great country are in charge of their vaginas, so feminism movement = done; women = 1. Very good then. Let’s get on with it. Yeah? Apparently, not.

Almost every day I engage in (or eavesdrop on) conversation with both men and women about the state of equality (or lack thereof). People regurgitate old statistics about women earning 70-odd percent of their male counter-parts, and being discriminated against for breastfeeding in the workplace, and having to do more housework, and having their breasts started at my some creep on the streets, and quack quack quack - the whinging goes on.

I don’t mean to sound like a traitor, fellow ladies, I really don’t; but I can’t help but feel a little let down by the team myself.

For starters, women overall earn less than men in their lifetimes because most choose to stay at home and rare children at some point in their life. Note: the key word here is choose.

The feminist movement was all about choice.

Women just wanted the choice to vote, the choice to sit at a bar, the choice to have sex when and with whom, the choice to proceed with a pregnancy, the choice to go to university, the choice in whatever career she wanted... No-one is forcing you to have kids. We are choosing to sacrifice the overall lifetime equal pay, to have our little bundles of joy. So don’t give me that stat. It’s factually distorted to play to the victim card.

The victim card is old and boring.

If you want a pay rise, or the archaic clown in the office to pipe down about your workplace breastfeeding, or for your husband to help more around the house – do something about it! If you truly want to be seen as an equal, and stand side to your male counterparts, then do what they would do – speak up! They got their payrise, not because they’re men or they’re arseholes; they got it because they asked for it! That’s all there is to it!

Wallowing in your own pathetic-ness, reciting the same old clichés like “I didn’t get the promotion because I’m a woman” only perpetuates a weak, naval-gazing image, and is really just an excuse, so get up, shake it off, and just get it done.

And absolutely - violence against women, rape, mysogony (do we all know what it means now?!) and all forms of injustice against women are deplorable, abhorrent and should not be stood for in any way. So, let’s just continue to fight the good fight on that together. And for God’s sake if you’re in a violent environment, get the hell out, Now. No excuse. He doesn’t love you. Love doesn’t hurt. I can’t be clearer or more serious on that.

Don’t stand for it. Don’t be a victim.

How connected is our current generation of young women to the source of the feminist movement?

I am sceptical. Beyond hearing stories from our mothers and grandmothers, as Australians, we haven’t actually had to endure the real, nasty, gritty, Mad-Men style of exploitation and oppression that our predecessors did. They were fired up – marching, and burning bras, and presenting powerful speeches – because it was very, very real to them.

In a world of a female Prime Minister, icons like Germaine Greer, moguls like Oprah Winfrey, idols like Madonna & Gaga, and powerhouses like Angela Merkel….I think we’re a bit beyond crying about all the injustices against our kind. We really do have the choice to do, be, and have anything we want.

Men are not against us.

There are arseholes is both sexes, let’s be honest. Tarring men with the same brush is so hypocritically counter-productive. We all know good men; some of us even know men whom identify themselves as feminists.

And with all the mixed messages being screamed from the other end of the house, at varying times of each lunar cycle, I think men can be forgiven for wandering around in circles, scratching their head and wondering what the hell their place in society is these days?

They are expected to be the breadwinners, do 50% of housework; compliment you, not ask you for sex, not seek sex anywhere else, remain sexually attracted to you at all times (even when you’re at your ugliest), read your mind, know exactly what will offend one women, and what the next wont even bat an eyelash at; be strong; be sensitive; like your family; accept you not liking his; take it when you feel like verbally beating him to an emasculated shell; and basically just do whatever the hell you say. Don’t you think this kind of treatment would result to resentment? Rebellion? A movement, perhaps?

I once worked with a woman who would share stores with pride, of how she condescended her husband on a daily basis over his inability to prepare dinner. She reminded him regularly that because she was the home keeper, the family and the unit would literally fall apart without her. Now, I’m not doubting that she was the rock of the family; a strong, loving mother who ran a great household – but I wonder what her reaction would be if her husband (an intelligent academic and very successful businessman) patronised her for her inability to do his Engineering job. I imagine a Loony Tunes-esque cat fight.

It’s all well and good for us to say “Well, I am the woman, I will do what I want!” But is that really fair? Is that a partnership? Is that equality?

I firmly believe that if we really want “respect” and “equality” then we need to “fight” a fair game. Let’s start giving the good men in the world the respect they deserve and not use them as our punching bags just because, let’s face it, we sometime don’t even know what is wrong with us.

Sisters, we are doing it to ourselves.

Chris Rock says women would rule the world by now, if we didn’t hate each other.

Iyanla Vanzant says that women fight each other because they feel that if “she” gets hers, then there won’t be enough left for me. Men, on the other hand think “If I get mine, then I don’t care about you”.

Why Women Compete with One Another

Women have an innate propensity for care, support, and nurture. This is vital for humanity’s progress. But, let’s be honest: we judge each other all the time.

If we really want men to start treating us better, perhaps we should look into our own female backyard, and start at home, so to speak.



More Mirror, Australia discussion happening on Facebook.

Heart + Action = results.

It’s Anti-Poverty Week this week.

Whilst I am doing my degree, I am working for a Not-For-Profit organisation that has a robust Social Justice program that I am very proud to participate in. I feel I am able to say that each day, whilst I work towards my goal of being university educated and improving myself, I am also genuinely helping to make a difference in people’s lives at work; that what I do matters. That’s a great feeling.

The fact that I no longer feel helpless about the world’s greater issues is key to this great feeling. As someone with a conscience, and wanting desperately to help everyone, it can be very overwhelming knowing you are but one person…and where the hell do you start?!

Most people adopt the defeatist conclusion that their sole efforts wont make a dint in the issue, and give up.

Other people like to dig their heels on the notion that a tough outlook and material-focused lifestyle is cool, and anyone who does not prioritise climbing the corporate ladder; or who speaks up on animal welfare, or human rights, or the environment, is just a tree huggin hippie that should be shipped off to some island with the rest of them, where they won’t bother those of us who just want to rape and pillage the earth in peace, thanks very much.

I, personally think the former is more dangerous than the latter. And so did Albert Einstein, who said:

"The world is a dangerous place to live; not because of the people who are evil, but because of the people who don't do anything about it".

I’m all for “live and let live”. Not because I’m a Buddist monk, but because I’m too lazy to get worked up about people who don’t share my views and beliefs about this world. I have learned, as I have got older, that you can’t change people. You can only change yourself. As Gandhi said;

"Be the change you want to see in the world”.

I know this is a busy world, and we can't do it all. I'm simply sharing that I’ve learned that a kind heart is not enough to make this world a better place; Taking actions motivated by your kind heart is.

This busy time of year is a better time than any to contemplate what you want to do with the next stage of your life, what matters to you, what kind of positive impact you can have on the people and environment around you – but most importantly – how you’re going to achieve it.

I recently watched a brief TED Talk by Jody Williams; a Nobel Peace Laureate, who had a very pragmatic opinion on peace, and how to facilitate a dignified life for all humans. She reiterated the notion that positive change comes from real action.

I know I’m in very good company. The World Giving Index through Charities Aid Foundation (CAF) recently found that Australia & New Zealand are the most GIVING nations in the world! We're top people!

If you want to take action on the things that matter, like eradicating poverty from our world – start with this hepful resource from Philanthropy Australia or find out what Volunteer Opportunities are available that suit you.

Getting excited (again)

You know the days when you’re high on life? When the nervous energy of excitement darts through you; and you feel genuinely inspired and energised with anticipation of your future? When you’re ready to take on whatever is thrown at you? When you’re smiling on the inside?


It is a truly riveting feeling, and I'm so happy to say I’ve been feeling that increasingly over the last couple of months; as if June was the valley, I’m now gliding up the slow incline of the mountain named Life.


I caught myself buzzing today; with ideas, thoughts of gratitude, happiness, contentment; and I reflected on times when I had felt this before. Every time it was followed by a deep slump of mood, or a disappointment that set me back, knocked the wind out of me, or beat the confidence out of me.


This time, it’s different…
Now, a little older, experienced, and comfortable in my skin, I’m starting to feel that I really can take it on – not just with false naivety of youth and unrealistic expectations. This time I know what I’m capable of, and what’s more – I know I’m responsible for getting what I want out of life. That is an empowering secret to unlock – even if it is obvious and simplistic. Having been told something a million times throughout your life, repeating it, preaching it to other people, reposting a cutesy little phrase about it on Facebook….none of it is quite like the penny dropping for the first time!


I have deep-seated memories of feeling quite the opposite;
memories still relatively fresh, in fact. I have had reoccurring depression for several years, and even though it is a hideous, painful condition to bare, I wouldn’t take it back for the world, because:

a) just like living with a myriad of physical illnesses, I can function as very productive of member of society with it; and

b) it has helped me understand who I really am.

But more importantly it also gives me insight to the pain of others experiencing mood disorders, and I want to help.


So, this is why I talk about it
– the one and only reason I talk about it – to remove the taboo, and make this world smaller for people who feel isolated or alone. Our society must learn to speak as freely about mental health as it does the common cold.


Ignore the twats!
I also know one of the biggest, most challenging, and excruciating hurdles a person with a mood disorder can overcome, is that of allowing one’s self to be happy. I have struggled with that for years; and despite how many wonderful, supportive, loving people I have around me, who encourage and compliment me all the time; it is the one voice of the one twat from a million years ago that burrows in and does it’s damage long after they’ve moved on and forgotten about it. This is key to long-term recovery and flourishing: Ignore the twats!


Knowing how it feels on the other side, just the same as the feeling you get from exercising for the first time, makes you want to do it again. When I feel down, I try to focus my attention and energy to replicating my own approach to situations in order to regain the inner feeling of happiness I have experienced before – knowing that I’m capable, and that it will return.


I’ve tapped into the internal dialogue that isn’t just psychological, but physiological; and now I listen, not just to my thoughts but my body as well. Sometimes your body can tell a more accurate story than your mind can.


I recommend taking some quiet time to observe how your body reacts to situations, people, places, and ask yourself if you want continue feeling that or not. If the answer is the later, all you have to do is remove yourself from that situation/person/place, and your body will thank you with a burst of energy that might represent anything from confidence, to empowerment, to calm. Do, see, and surround yourself with the things and people that give you energy.


I believe that, like a domino, the state of the mind dictates the health and well-being of everything else; physical health, and therefore energy levels, and therefore input and emotional presence at work, school, home, in relationships; and therefore the success of those things; and therefore the ability to extend yourself, grow, learn, evolve as a person, and therefore connect to your spirituality and higher self, and therefore invite more positive things into your life; and therefore positively influence people around you, and therefore make the world a better place! Idealistic? I prefer to think not.


The mind is everything.
If we all started with making our own minds healthy, inviting, places to go, we could collectively shape a community better than the one we live in today.


Lifeline, Beyond Blue, Wesley Mission, Relationships Australia, QUT Counselling Service & Caritas Care have all helped me through my journey.

One of my new goals in life is to give back to places like them to express my gratitude, and pay it forward, by offering support in any way I can to others experiencing mental health issues.


If you need help; seek it out:
Lifeline: 13 11 14
Beyond Blue: 1300 22 46 36
Wesley Mission: (02) 9263 5555
Relationships Australia: 1300 364 277


If you want to help; seek a way:
Lifeline
Beyond Blue
Wesley Mission
Relationships Australia
100 Things: People Helping People

I'm genuinely excited about my future, and I hope you are too :)

Why so miserable, Brilliant?

I know I’m not the first to ask this question. Unlike a smattering of brilliant minds that have bestowed this earth with the creations formed of their enviable imaginations, I will not present to you an original idea here.

The question stirred in me today, not for the first time, when I observed my sudden abundance of writing inspiration; the same inspiration that has been conspicuously absent up in Thoughts HQ of late (I won’t deny there has been talk around the water cooler).

But in the last forty-eight hours, I have been compelled to write, in way I have not for quite some time. As my two most recent blogs might attest, I haven’t been in the best of moods – and I wonder if that is why?

On reflection, my most lavish, and quality, production of words came at a time in my life when I was the most depressed; I could not write enough; poetry and lyrics were like therapy; like journaling. And, respectively, the periods I have concerned myself with being ‘unable’ to write anything; or wanting for inspiration, were times I have been happiest.

Commonly admired and immortalised creatives including Miles Davies, Jim Morrison, Vincent Van Gough, Virginia Woolf, and Kurt Cobain (to name but a few) are known for their erraticism and self-harm, as much as they are known for their art.

Mark Moldre observes Phil Spector’s public plight in ‘Troubled Genius’, and the movies about Johnny Cash, John Nash, and the rest are common fare. It is a long list.

I have worked with people whom are great as artists, but, frankly, arseholes as people. Some people wear their creativity like a heavy coat – pulling out the clichéd tortured artist card at every opportunity – and if they are actually good enough at what they do, most people forgive them. I’m far too much of a cynic for that. In my mind, they’re just arseholes; and no amount of art is an excuse to be an arsehole. Sorry.

Others, such as the aforementioned Ms Woolf, used art as way of expressing and processing the inner turmoil they were predisposed with. A certain amount of genetic imbalance might be credited for some of the most celebrated works we are lucky enough to share today; Swedish researcher, Fredrik Ullén, of the Karolinska Institutet in Stockholm was quoted suggesting “Thinking outside the box might be facilitated by having a somewhat less intact box”. Well there’s a back-handed compliment for all you crazy genius’ out there!

So, why are the people who bring the most pleasure to the world, often the most miserable?

Whilst research on the relationship between creativity and mental illness shows a positive strong correlation, not every creative person need fear the label (just don’t be an arsehole), and I admit it is hard to control the ego in a world where celebrity is such a valuable currency; so people on the side-lines will allow people who do not have a genuine grievance with genetics or chemicals, to act the fool because “that’s what creatives do”. Fuck that. Pull your head in and be grateful you have a gift sans the burden of a mood disorder.

I am not aligning myself with these exceptional minds in any way – I have simply observed that my bad moods, generally mean good writing time. How does a creative person negotiate this? I think I made it pretty clear earlier that my patience for arseholes is minimal, so why would I strive to be one myself; and therefore, I would be amiss to pursue a path where I must ‘suffer for my art’. I don’t want to be a good, committed, prolific writer if the tradeoff is mental instability. Others might feel differently.

Tell me.

Honey, where did I leave my Ambition?

I have a lot going on; I am studying a Business degree full-time, and work in a busy role part-time; I have exercise commitments three times a week, a social life, a house to clean, dinners to cook, and blogs to write. The list goes on; plus there’s always ironing…

I have no reason to be bored; Yet, I am.

A terrible guilt washes over me for even saying it aloud; but, you know; the first step, and all that…

I have spent the last twelve months wandering aimlessly around my home, my casual and part-time jobs, my study, and my social life, wondering what the hell is wrong with me. When will it kick back in? The elusive “’It” is ambition; drive; appetite for life.

I know I sound like a spoiled first-world brat; and perhaps I am (the reason for writing these thoughts in a public forum is to invite conversation, so go on, tell me how it is), but is it just a ‘mood’, or has something inherent shifted in me that I will never get back?

Taking on the world
From since I can remember I was a bright, ambitious girl with big ideas and enough energy and enthusiasm to make them happen. I spent thirteen years pursuing a career as a Music Administrator – a job I fell over myself to obtain and achieve in; I had immense pride in my work and an incomparable care-factor – I sacrificed personal comforts, relationships, I’ll go as far as to say destiny, for the greater good of the job, the company, the art. I gave it everything I had.

A new chapter?
Last year, after many months of painstaking soul searching, garnished with a physical breakdown, I finally made the decision that the career I had been pursuing all these years, was no longer for me (read: I was no longer for it). I said my goodbyes and stepped out onto the sunny pavement feeling lighter than I had in years. This was the right decision for me. I was ready to start a new chapter in my professional life, and it was going to feel good.

After four months of applying for part-time work I started to get worried. I was scoring some temping work here and there, but times were tough, and I needed something stable. But on reflection I know I wasn’t getting permanent jobs because I didn’t really want them. I felt so emotionally affected from my ‘break-up’ with music that I just wanted the license to bury my head under a pillow and eat ice cream the other heartbroken women get.

I spent hours, days, weeks, months, thinking about what it was I actually wanted to do. “I like cooking – Maybe I could open a café? I like helping – maybe I can work in a charity? I like animals – maybe I should be a vet? I like writing – Maybe I should live in the mountains and start on a manuscript? I like getting in over my head – Maybe I could commit to saving the world? I am good at Administration – maybe I should just go and get a fucking job? But I don’t want just any fucking job – I want something I love – something I’m passionate about…I wish I could move to Byron Bay. I like yoga… ” And on it went.

Who am I?
I searched in every nook and cranny in my mind, and nowhere could I pin-point the next dream job to go bounding after with all the pathetic slobbering enthusiasm I had with my previous goal. I hit wall after wall. It wasn’t just that I couldn’t think of anything I wanted to do – after entering into music because I was passionate about music, and ending up hating it – I was scared that if I chose something I liked/loved to work in, I’d end up hating that too (a friend of mine once told me that I “over-think things” – what do you reckon?).

It became somwhat of a self-identitiy crisis, as I found myself suddenly missing something that used to make up a massive part of who I was. When asked socially what I do,I even caught myself saying(and later berrated myself), "Well I used to work in music bla bla bla...and now I'm...." It took me along time to figure out how to 're-answer' that question.

Priorities
I wrote myself a list of all the things I want in a job, and then I started to apply. I got the perfect-on-paper job. It is a truly wonderful job, with wonderful people. Yet, I am left wanting.

It’s now twelve months since I left my ambitious self behind and I’m still no closer to finding something that I just have to do – A vision to work towards; and end goal. And I realise it is affecting my approach to the rest of my life. I’ve become slow, lazy, sloppy. There is a saying that if you want something done, ask the busiest person in the room. Busyness creates busyness, and ultimately momentum.

I’ve lost my momentum.

Or have I? Is it simply that I am growing up, and that I realise that work and career isn’t the be all and end all? Am I just mellowing out? Does career have to have such importance in a person’s whole life, just because it once did? Am I just a first-world brat that has developed Flat-Affect and just bored with everything? Do we have to love what we do – like we keep being told? Is it simply time for me to hang up the dreams of yester-year and bunker down for House-keeping? Am I just giving up?

I’m not saying I’ve entirely lost hope that it will ever return; but I’m standing at a blank drawing board, waiting for lightning to strike.

I’m interested to know if there’s any other career women out there who have had a change of heart, and how you’ve navigated your way through it. Tell me about it.

My vegan challenge - The end

Well, my vegan challenge is officially over.

Not just because it has passed the 1st August, marking one full month since my announcement to embark on said challenge; But also because I lost the plot around week three and ate some Beef Ragout.

What am I if not honest?

I feel (kind of) ok about it because I didn’t receive any more donations after Week 3 anyway. Or perhaps was that just the universe picking up the scent of slow-cooked beast on my breath, and therefore boycotting me and my goal?

I’m fine with it anyway. I have raised $508.00 for the RSPCA QLD, for which I received a letter of gratitude and a certificate that says I’m a top person. So even though I ate some animals…I also saved some.

So here's the wrap-up:

What I liked:

- Experimenting with meals
- Feeling light and healthy
- Vegan meals after my Yoga class at Govindas
- Feeling 100% guilt free about every single thing I ate
- Learning about nourishment and food
- Almond milk!


What I didn’t like:

- The weird lectures I got from people
- Tempeh (sorry, I tried)
- Being verbally bludgeoned with the word ‘Calcium!’ seemingly constantly
- Not eating butter
- Not eating cheese
- Not eating fish
- Watching other people eat butter, cheese and fish

What I learned:

- A vegan diet is a very affective weight-loss diet
- Most people I spoke with think their nourishment mostly comes from meat and milk. I find that weird.
- I am a sucker for butter, cheese, and ragout
- People who are on a vegan challenge try to off-set their overwhelming secret desire to steal the bacon off your plate with lectures about sustainability, animal cruelty and health. And most people who are not on the vegan challenge will both ignore said lectures with the stubbornness of a knifed Labour leader; and protect their bacon with the cruel arrogance of Simon Cowell.
- I will never be a full-time vegan

Thank you so much to everyone who donated – a little thank you gift is in the post for you this week.

And to all who offered their support, and believed I could make it; sorry.

I’ll post a few more groovy recipes up soon for those who are interested!

Peace out – and stay tuned for the next conversation at Mirror, Australia.

People Power - The key to saving retail. Dummies.

I was recently in a ‘music’ retail outlet. A nice piece of music was playing so I approached the counter to enquire what cd it was. The Counter Assistant didn’t know, so she called the Music Department. The person on the other end of the line didn’t know either. Whoever put the cd on was now at lunch.

One potential sale = lost.

I’m no Branson or Blundy but I have had a reasonable amount of experience in retail – specifically music retail, and one of the fundamentals we knew as Sales Assistants when I was working in the industry was playing it sells it. That is why the major record labels made deals with the music retailers that involved torturing the floor staff with relentless repeats of the latest airbrushed Classical Crossover group in the mornings (“They make classical music hot!”) and then the latest Top 40 compilation in the afternoons – more often than not they shared distributor. And we, the tortured coal-faced minions of the retail giant, saw the results of this.


It’s a no brainer: Play it, customer enquires, a conversation pursues; that translates into a sale. A human interaction!

The particular retailer I had my recent lacklustre experience with is an endangered species, amongst thousands of peers currently crying out to the Australian masses to save their souls, because, the poor loves standing behind counters all over the nation are in fear of their jobs and the future of their industry. Bless.

Gerry Harvey is throwing his arms up in a tizzy over international on-line competition, Record companies are lighting cigars and nostalgically looking out from the wheelhouse just waiting for the water to rise, The depressing demise of the bookstore, and come to think of it, just about any store not owned by Coles or Wesfarmers; it's enough to mmake the tear ducts a little moist.

After decades of 400% mark ups and patronising marketing campaigns, the bricks and mortar retailers need the help of the people. They want us to feel sorry for the industry – for the people – the unemployment, and just forget about the convenience, the discounts, the speed and accessibility of everything via our on-line service providers, and just come back as loyal customers.

In my empirical shopping experience, with bemusing irony, an overwhelming majority of retailers just.don’t.get.it. Retailers still have an edge – a differentiation – and in these troubled times you would think they’d be appealing to any scrap of edge they can cling to – but they are not.

The differentiation I am talking about is the people.

The one and only reason people need be motivated to walk into any retail outlet in this era, is the fact that as a customer, we can enter a store with any assortment of needs, attitudes and questions, and have confidence in our retailers that they value us enough to give us brilliant, personalised service tailored specifically for us as individuals. There is nothing else. You can meet the on-line competitors’ price, I don’t care. If I remember my last experience in your store to be mediocre at best, and usually that is primarily the Sales Assistant’s responsibility, I am not returning. I do not patronise businesses or support brands that do not respect me when I am handing over my hard earned money.

Beyond the tiny oversight of detail of my music retailer mate, I can create a painfully long list of negative or luke-warm experiences I have had with retailers in the last twelve months. Pouty teenagers staring at their nails behind the counter not acknowledging you; Overzealous, contrived, scripted greetings like “Welcome to [insert underwear retailer name here], I’m [Mandy] , may I assist you with anything today?”; The sweaty, desperate “pounce” approach (That you usually get in tiny boutiques where the Sales Assistant has a “help me” smile so forced it looks like the sides of her mouth might start bleeding any minute, as you feel the controlling stare of the owner through the crack in the door of the backroom); and what has become my most common interaction lately; the burdened slow-mo swipe of the check-out people who have obviously been told to “make conversation” but been given zero training on how to make that a comfortable and pleasant experience for both customer and service person, because I have had the same conversation with the same check-out person at my local supermarket at least a dozen times this year. It goes:

Me: “Hey, how are you going?”
Him: “Oh, ok I guess”
Me: (trying to make light) “As good as you can be, hey!”
Him: “Well, I’ve been here for like, five hours and still have another three to go, plus they didn’t give me one of the coffee breaks I was supposed to have”
Me: (All in my head) Well, doesn’t that suck sweetheart. You have a job. That must be really awful for you, getting paid, in this time of economic uncertainty. And wow, eight whole hours? Love, are you ok? Can I get you a milk crate to sit on? We should speak to management about this travesty! Man up for Christ’s sake.

So, as you can see a really enjoyable five minutes at the check-out with grumpy. And he’s not the only one.

There are, of course, retailers who do service well. The recent exceptional experiences I have had have been at Suzanne Grae, (where I trained, and believe they still have one of the best customer service training programs in the country) Hyundai have wonderful after sales service, The Good Guys realy are...good guys, and Tamarind restaurant in Cairns.

They are the only service experiences I can think of that I have had inside twelve months that left me motivated to share my positive experience with other people.

In a dying industry, that just isn’t good enough. Retailers and those in the service industry need to shift their focus away from the bottom line and realise the importance and power of people: staff and customers.

A positive interaction with another person can really make someone’s day. What’s more, if the service is delivered, not with the redundant ideal that “the customer is always right” (an over and mis-used term that creates subservient, apologetic service people, not peers participating in a positive experience for both parties), rather the notion that “this must result in the customer’s best interest”, only a positive flow-through effect can occur.

It is simple, yet retailers are too busy clambering to shore and watching profits drop, to stick their head up for long enough to notice that hey, the people out on the battlefield – the people who put the cash in your registers, and put up with rude and sometime weird customers, are looking for leaders to guide them through this mire, to say to them that they are appreciated and believed in, that they are worth investing in, for the greater good of the company’s collective future success.

There seems to be a vast separation between the people at the top and the people on the shop floor. This filters down through the company culture where the end (Sell!) is not connected to the means (serve). Based on personal experience there are very few retail brands that are connected to what it is like to be a customer or they have lost total grip on the behaviours of their floor staff. Either way it is not good news. I say this because the amount of simple, common errors I see people making every time I walk into a store are conducive with staff that have given up, been forgotten about or been hypnotised into soulless grinning desperados that repel the casual shopper, not convert them into manic consumer beasts swiping their credit card at your POS with vigour, as they seem to expect. Let alone loyal repeat customers.

All you have to do is offer your staff training, support and incentive to convert them into champions of your brand. For someone who can experience the worst in human interactions through whinging customers, feeling the varicose veins growing in the backs of their knees as they stand on hard concrete all day and takes home a pitiful wage for the privilege “We must make budget!” just doesn’t cut it. If people selling the product believe not only in the product, but the brand, that enthusiasm spills out into the customer base, and makes it far more pleasant for everyone involved.

Staff need to be empowered. There is nothing more aggravating than attempting to return an item and have a poor young girl apologise that she’ll have to wait for the Manager to return from lunch as she is not authorised to do returns. Service delivery fail and a public way of telling your staff and customers that you have.zero.faith.in.your.staff. What kind of return do you think that investment is going to give you?

Another example is rigid return policies. Using Suzanne Grae as an example again, I remember having the most flexible returns policy to work with. If a customer wasn’t happy, they could bring it back; “No problem!” Some retailers put all sorts of restrictions on their returns policies to avoid losing money, but all it is does is take away the power of closing a sale from your staff. There were countless amounts of times a sale was about to walk out the door, when we were able to say confidently “If you get it home and change your mind, just hold onto your receipt and bring it back…No problems!”, almost every single time the customer bought the item because they had peace of mind about the purchase. And how many returns did that equate to? Nowhere near enough for the company to want to change that policy.

This of course reduces the opportunity for customers to be disgruntled before the sale has even taken place, and reduces the likelihood of complaints and the need for your staff to go into conflict resolution mode – another skill that staff need to be empowered with to execute effectively.

An investment in your people will equal happier customers. Happier customers equals return customers. Return customer equals a better chance at survival. It must make sense that what is best for the customer is also best for the brand. It is so obvious - Yet hardly anyone is doing it!!!

I for one, do not want to see bricks and mortar shops crumble. I want to try clothes on before I buy them. I want to browse, roam, stumble upon the tangible, feel, see, smell, hear the shopping experience. I am a human that wants human interaction. And I know I’m not the only one. But if the human interaction has been reduced to one of indignation, desperation or even hostility, then give me one other reason, why I should you give you, the service provider, my money?

Vegan recipes - Potato & Broccoli cakes w spicy tomato & lentil sauce

Ingredients:
POTATO CAKES
4 x med potatoes
1 small broccoli
1 cup breadcrumbs
Salt & pepper
A handful of whatever fresh herbs you have - I used rosemary & parsley
1 large onion diced
1 clove of garlic diced
Olive oil


SAUCE
1 cup lentil mix - I used a soup mix w red lentils, mung beans, pinto beans, yellow & green split peas, barley & kidney beans
Can of tomatoes
1 table spoon tomato paste
2 cups vege stock
More herbs - I used basil, oregano & parsley
1 teaspoon of chilli


Method:
Boil potatoes until just tender , not sloppy
Dice the broccoli and add it in with potatoes with less than a minute to go
Drain, mash
Stir in half the diced onion, half the garlic, salt & pepper, & herbs
Leave in pot to cool once all mixed in


Sauce:
Fry up remaining onion & garlic in some oil
Add soup mix, stir
Add vege stock , bring to boil then let simmer, covered for 30 mins, check & stir occasionally

Back to potato cakes:
Scoop up table spoons , roll in bread crumbs and into patties. Place in fridge.

Back to sauce:
Stir in tom paste, herbs, canned tomatoes, salt & pepper & chilli then leave to simmer again for aprox 20 mins.


Fry up cakes in olive oil on medium until golden.

Serve on a bed of the sauce.

This is nice with garlic bread also. I make my garlic sauce with olive oil, garlic, salt & pepper, lemon rind & parsley whizzed together.

Yum!

My vegan challenge – Week Two

G’day Vegan-curious’ and RSPCA lovers,

Well, week two is now over so I’m half way through my challenge! Yay for me!

I’ve also hit the half-way mark on my goal of raising $1,000.00 for RSPCA QLD, which I’m stoked about. People have been so generous – I’m really grateful for the support of me and my personal challenge, but more so their willingness to support such a great charity. Well done team :)

This week, people have been less aggressive in their enquiries regarding my health, and I’ve had far more encouraging words of support from friends, family and colleagues…mixed with the occasional passing grimace.

FAQs from this week:

How’s your health?/Aren’t you dead yet?
Very well, thank you for your concern. I’m still feeling healthy and good. My weight has remained the same since losing 3 kilos in the first week, which was to be expected. My indulgences have been potato chips and I’m eating a fair bit of bread so I’m remaining nice and plump.

I am breaking out – my skin is doing all sorts of interesting things, due to the toxins ridding my body, so that’s all good. I’m sure it will pass soon.

With the upping of lentils and legumes in my diet, I’m finding my digestion is running really well – I used to have the occasional stomach pain, bloating, other issues with bowel movements I don’t need to go into..and I have not had any of those occurrences in the last fortnight.

Now with the image of my bowel movements in your head (you’re welcome), let’s quickly move on.

My energy levels are better than I can ever remember. Being something I’ve always struggled with, that is huge for me.

Is it hard to eat out?
Not…really. I had my first test on Friday when a morning tea was held at work. Sandwiches, cakes, quiches…all looked yum. To make things that little more cruel, our boss had the catering done by Sassafras – one my favourite places to eat – who do all organic food. Normally I’d even be smashing the chicken sandwiches guilt free (I often avoid chicken from establishments unless they guarantee it is organic. I eat most chicken at home and purchase my meat from the Meat-ing Place or Wray Organics to get this guarantee for myself) but there wasn’t a single thing on the table that didn’t have butter, milk or eggs in it. Poor me. Moving on…

Not…really. Living in Brisbane is probably one challenge for a vegan (and I’d love to hear from Brisbane-dwelling vegans on their favourite places to eat).

You can’t go into a pub for example and have any vegan option available other than hot chips. That was the case when I was vegetarian also – only my options were stretched as far and wide as wedges and sour cream, and in really posh places, perhaps a cheese plate. That’s just lazy-chef-syndrome as far as I’m concerned.

It further highlights my concern that we are over producing animals on superfluously large scales just because the mainstream is of the mind that meat and dairy has to be on every item on the menu. The mass-production of animals and animal products that contribute to many of our increasingly critical environmental and health problems, come down to this. And the only thing that will curb it is people power. Eating establishments, supermarkets and food producers wont make a shift unless the customer demands it. End lecture.

Not…really. I’ve eaten out three times this week. I’ve basically found my hippie-vegan heaven in Govinda’s in Elizabeth Street. I go to Atma yoga at lunch time and get a free vegan lunch at Govindas afterwards! Score! Doesn’t get better than that. And let me tell you – non-vegans dig this lunch. It’s plentiful, tasty and cheap. Yum yum.

I was also taken to the Tibetan Kitchen on a dinner date last night, which was thoroughly enjoyable.

I’ve been given some tips for some great places in West End, which I’ll head to soon.

Is it hard to keep up?/Are you missing anything?
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t missing cheese. Infact, I’ve realised how much I actually eat! But all that means for me is I’m losing a bit of excess dairy fat and I will enjoy it so much more when I go back to it for a cheeky indulgence rather than chowing down on it like my life depends on it every other night. I was a bit gross, now I think about it.

When I get hungry I have had the occasional craving but as long as I keep a snack nearby I’m ok on that front. Once I’ve actually eaten a bit I’m over it. The only thing I really miss eating is fish.

What are you eating?
I’ve only referred to the vegan cookbook once and that was to make some quinoa and lentil burgers one night – they rocked. Everything else has been my recipe.

Week Two dinner menu
Monday: Roasted vegetable pasta + garlic bread

Tuesday: Pan fried tempeh w vegan potato salad, almond beans, roasted pumpkin & minted beetroot + bruschetta

Wednesday: Quinoa & lentil burgers w paw paw salsa
(Recipe courtesy 500 Vegan Dishes book)

Thursday: Creamy vegetable pie

Friday: Tibetan Kitchen

Saturday: Vegan pizza (haven't made it yet...but here's my antipasti starter:)

Week two wrap up
I like the way veganism makes me feel. I’m also more motivated by knowing I’m raising money for charity. It’s keeping me honest! But I’m looking forward to nailing some fish and chips at the end of the month :)

This week’s top donation was made by none other than my lovverrrr. Top bloke. He was true to his word and donated more than $3.00 in order to claim a tax deduction, and more than $100 so Corey didn’t make him look like a louse. Swooooon.

If you would like to support the RSPCA QLD, please click here.

My vegan challenge - Week One

This is my first “report” on my month as a vegan.

So far I have really enjoyed it and I have already learned so much about food…and people!

Going vegan is not as massive a stretch for me as what it would be for many other people. I was vegetarian for a couple of years, and I am very conscientious about healthy food and humane animal products. I already refuse to buy anything but organic eggs, chicken & cheese, and I extend that all other meat when I can afford it. I am increasingly avoiding pork due to nutritional & animal welfare concerns.

I am a try-hard foodie and I love to cook, so the first obvious appeal of this challenge was to stretch my capabilities in the kitchen and try some new dishes I might not have otherwise.

This week I have used all my own recipes, and I will share them with you (soon). I have purchased a vegan cookbook though, and I am sure I’ll be reaching for it in the very near future!

The reaction of others has been interesting to say the least. I thought I was doing this for myself but I am blown away at how many people are varying from fascinated to appalled to bemused to highly opinionated about my temporary food choices.

I’ve been on repeat all week with people who, looking around my face with cautious intrigue like I’m some weird science experiment , poke and prod me with questions about the logistics, the health, the food itself, and heaven forbid, what I’m depriving my poor partner of whilst the main cook of the house goes off on this crazy grain nibbling rampage, as if they expect to next see me crouching in a field with a hunk of grass hanging out of mouth, having abandoned home to live with a family of rabbits.

Already I am exhausted on behalf of permanent vegans who must have these conversations with omnivores on a regular basis! It is turning into a bit of social intrigue project for me, to be exposed to how foreign eating naturally is to people! I’m tilting my head back at them in the same confusion in which they are looking at me!

So, to avoid clogging up the call centre, here are my responses to this week's FAQs:

Where will you get all your calcium from?
Broccoli, bok choy, cabbage, spinach, tofu, tempeh, sardines*, salmon*, brazil nuts, almond, sesame seeds, tahini. (*Not me this month, but you can)

Where do you get your iron from?
Almonds, edamame (soybeans), lentils, spinach, quinoa, tofu, tempeh, prunes, chickpeas, lima beans, pinto beans, tahini, beetroot leaves, kidney beans, potato, peas, raisins, watermelon, bok choy, brussel sprouts, apricots, bulgur.

Where do you get your protein from?
Just about any kind of nut, legumes, beans, tofu, tempeh, baked beans on toast, soy products, peanut butter, Textured Vegetable Protein (TVP), quinoa, sunflower seeds, whole wheat bread, brown rice, broccoli, potato, mushrooms, seitan.

What do you actually eat?!
Week One Menu:
Monday
Breakfast: Avocado & tomato on grain toast
Lunch: Garden salad
Snacks & drinks: Apple, mixed nuts, banana, rosehip & ginger tea, chamomile tea
Dinner: Potato & broccoli cakes with a spicy tomato & lentil sauce + garlic bread

Tuesday

Breakfast: Banana & berry smoothie
Lunch: Left over dinner
Snacks & drinks: Date & coconut rolls, popcorn
Dinner: Falafels w homemade tabouleh & salad

Wednesday
Breakfast: Porridge w cinnamon, brown sugar & raisins
Lunch: Left over dinner
Snacks & drinks: Carmen’s muesli bar (a little cheat, it had honey in it), Mandarin, mixed nuts, Rosehip & ginger tea, Little Creatures Pale Ale
Dinner: Vegetable samosas (my friend’s Mum’s recipe – I wont publish it because even though I like my version, I know I don't do it justice) w sweet chilli dipping sauce & salad

Thursday
Breakfast: Banana & berry smoothie
Lunch: More samosas
Snacks & drinks: mandarin, mixed nuts
Dinner: Zuchini, pea & mint soup + garlic croutons

Friday
Breakfast: Banana & berry smoothie
Lunch: Left over dinner
Snacks & drinks: Muesli bar, mixed nuts, long black coffee, rosehip & ginger tea, popcorn, chilli potato chips
Dinner: Marinated tofu & salad rice paper rolls w hoisin & chilli sauce

Saturday
Breakfast: Multigrain toast w cashew butter & celery
Lunch: Salad sandwich on multigrain w avocado
Snacks & drinks: mixed nuts, fresh juice from juice bar
Dinner: Vege Fajitas w homemade tortillas, rice & refried beans

Sunday
Breakfast: Long black coffee, multigrain toast w avocado & tomato
Lunch: 3 different salads, beans & bread (provided at a seminar I attended)
Snacks & drinks: fruit, roobis tea
Dinner: Tofu & vegetable stir fry

Do you take supplements?/You’re taking supplements, right?/Well, just make sure you take some supplements!
It is different in every individual case. I was taking iron supplements before I started this diet as I have been borderline with iron. However, based on my past experience, I was in fact iron deficient before I went vegetarian six years ago. Not long into my vegetarian diet, my iron levels actually increased and remained healthy for quite some time. So I empirically know that a lack of meat in my diet wont send me down a rapid shute straight to anaemia. I am continuing on the supplements I have as I would if I were still eating meat. I am not taking any other supplement.

How do you live vegan when you live with a die-heard meat-eater?
My partner and I have had several interesting and positive conversations about this challenge. I am not “inflicting” it on him by any means. To start, he gets a good meat fix at lunch everyday.

When I plan a meal I also think of how I can incorporate some meat into it for him, if he wants it. I did add some bacon into his soup the other night, and some chicken into his fajitas, which he was very grateful for!

For the first couple of meals he was more than happy to have them as they were, and I have to say I am very lucky to have such an open-minded partner who is happy to have the occasional vegetarian meal, and more so trusts me to make a delicious meal sans animal anything.

One of the most frustrating conversations I can have is with someone who just cannot comprehend the possibility of an enjoyable meal without meat. There is a massive misconception out there that food can’t be exciting and satisfying unless meat is involved. Men, in particular, are downright convinced they will keel over and die if there’s no meat on their plate at night. I’m sorry, but it is simply ignorant, misinformed, narrow-minded and buying into the...

Marketing of Meat
Of all people, my meat-loving man was the person who posed to reflect on just how successful the Beef, Lamb & Pork industries have been in convincing the mainstream that we simply cannot get vital nutrients such as iron and protein from anywhere but their products. That’s not facts people – That’s marketing.

Take a closer look at what is being fed to you, to influence you what you feed your family. You might just discover a whole new world of culinary pleasure that rocks your world, and makes you, and the world a little bit healthier!

I’m not attempting to preach anything, and I'm a lover of variety. I know why people don't want to give up meat and dairy, nor have time to care about the ingredients list when it's cheap and the kids are screaming. I'm just discussing my observations and insights. I am of course a meat eater and the end of the month I will be back eating meat, but even in doing so, I will be ensuring my products are fresh, local, humane and organic wherever possible. If you want help on how to find humane animal products check out this resource from RSPCA.

Week One wrap-up
I am thoroughly enjoying this little adventure so far. It seems to have a positive domino effect in ways such as; because the food isn’t heavy, whilst it does fill me up, I’m burning it off quicker, making me hungrier more often. Whilst some people probably see this as reason enough not to take this route, it have forced me into eating smaller meals more often which is a very healthy way to refuel.

I have lost 3 kilos already. Don’t be alarmed, this probably also because I haven’t been drinking as much as I would normally. The lighter meals mean that when I have had a beer it has gone straight to my head and I’ve opted out of the second. So it is having a very healthy effect on my lifestyle overall.

I am sleeping much better and feeling a lot more alert and positive. I mostly feel proud and strong within myself for challenging myself and sticking with it (so far!)

Yes, I know I’m only one week in. Perhaps next week I’ll just fill the page with big growls and incoherent rants about cheeseburgers, but for now, I’m happily rolling with it.

Catch ya next week.

Please donate to RSCPA QLD if you so feel the urge!

Thank you for reading :)



This week’s blog was brought to you by the top donator for the week: Miss Mallory Peak!
Bloody generous and all round top chick.
Thank you so much!