Singleabulous Meets Red Brother

The year was 2003. Under Peter Costello’s masterful stewardship the Australian economy was buoyant. My mood however was considerably less so. In fact my 33rd year was an epic pity party for one. On the face of it I was Carrie Bradshaw. I was Singleabulous. I had a job in stockbroking which could be made to sound more glamorous than it was and the bank owned my chic inner city apartment. I rocked a mini skirt and knee boots.

I  whined to anyone who would listen about not being able to find a man but truth was Singleabulous found her fair share of men. You don’t need to look too hard – the big end of town is littered with Mr Bigs. The trouble is the their full name too often happens to be Mr Big Ego, Mr Big Player or Mr Big Overgrown 12 year old rather than Mr Big Commitment. Sadly (or perhaps luckily) most of them were in the immortal words of Jack Berger “not that into” me.



Of course I blamed myself and my general lack of beauty, sass and style. You could call it depression. I look back at the sorry episode and kick myself for being such a god damn wuss but bear with me – I snapped out of it.

After having my heart broken by a very hawt but very, very naughty boy (this dude could rival Russel Brand for womanizing) common sense finally smacked me in the face – HARD.

My old "boyfriend". Can't say it wasn't fun.

My old “boyfriend”. Can’t say it wasn’t fun.

The time had come to say “No to crap”. A change of attitude was well over due. I resolved to keep looking until I found someone who’d treat me with respect and consideration and not to settle for anything less than that.

Spurred on by another single girlfriend I visited a local tarot reader. Seeing psychics is not something you generally do when things are going well. It’s a sign that you’re desperate enough to pay to hear some good news. I got what I paid for. The tarot reader told me that there was a bad influence in my life and once I got rid of that person things would improve. No shit. Secondly she pulled this card -

A new emotional beginning.

A new emotional beginning.

” I see a new relationship for you”. “Yeh right” I thought “isn’t that what they all say”. She informed me also that I would be having a career change which would involve writing and I would be moving homes. Basically I was about to win the trifecta.

I promptly asked Russel to stop calling. Fast forward a couple of months and I found myself alone in the office on Christmas eve. One of the dealers had been checking out the dating site RSVP earlier in the day and I  let curiosity get the better of me.  Not long after logging in I spotted an interesting profile – a smokin’ hawt scientist on secondment from the University of Colorado. The guy had the looks of Eric Stolz and a PhD. It was worth a shot. I’d made an ass of myself for far less. I signed on. Part of me felt like I had truly hit rock bottom.

I never met the scientist. I did however connect with a conga line of interesting characters – a pilot, a guy who owned an ad agency, a couple of IT guys, a Federal police officer, a property analyst, some marketing types and one pathological liar. Amid this smorgasbord I noticed a cute red headed chap with the code name “Red Brother”. He was seeking “an intelligent woman for a long term relationship”. I ignored it because I interpreted an “intelligent woman” as a career high flyer.  As it turned out Red Brother contacted me.

He wasn’t the type to faff about with flirtatious texts and emails. Instead he rang me and suggested that we meet up. A date was arranged on a Tuesday evening at The Nags Head pub in Glebe. I headed off that night dressed in my trademark tartan and fierce heels with a strange sense that my RSVP odyssey was about to end. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking. My internet dating experience had been a roller coaster ride worthy of its own blog. I was ready to get off – or should I say disembark?


The scene of the crime.

The scene of the crime.

Red Brother wasn’t hard to spot in the milling crowd at the bar. Luxurious red curls tied into a pony tail, alabaster skin and eyes of china blue, dressed in a hip bomber jacket and lace up boots.  I immediately introduced myself and blurted out something uncool like “Wow – you’re better than your profile pic”. He saw my dagginess and raised it. “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever dated”. Blushing “You need to get out more”.

Fast forward one year and we shacked up – that was the moving home. Shortly afterwards I was promoted to the role of trainee research analyst, a new job involving writing. I guess I won the trifecta.

Ten years on we’re Mum and Dadabulous and our life is a ten of cups – but of course Dadabs (aka Red Brother) doesn’t believe in that shite.

Team Abulous

Team Abulous

Have you ever had your cards read?



PS: Finding love online was never part of the ideal narrative for me. I also hoped that some enchanted evening I would see a stranger across a crowded room yada yada yada. Yet the whole thing fell perfectly into place – where else would you expect to met a software guru but on the internet. Give it a go single ladies.





I am not a connoisseur of reality TV but  will admit to liking Wife Swap. There was something compelling watching women go into another family’s home for the purpose of bossing them around for a week. Unlike most reality juggernauts the Wife Swap franchise didn’t  take off in Australia. There was one series on the Lifestyle channel which sank with barely a ripple. I think its high time this brand was revitalized. I propose that in order to give it a fresh twist we swap out public figures instead of wives. I have some choice candidates in mind.

Wouldn’t it be fun to swap

Christopher Pyne for

There's a mincing poodle face.

There’s a mincing poodle face.

Christopher Pine.

Now that’s my kind of dawg.

Joe Hockey for

C'mon Joe the economy needs a bigger stimulus package than that!

C’mon Joe the economy needs a bigger stimulus package than that!

Joe Manganiello

Oh my. There's a lifter not a leaner.

Oh my. There’s a lifter not a leaner.

Clive Palmer for


clive palmer med


Jabba the Hutt

Jabba is slightly less self interested and will take up less space in the Parliament.

Jabba is slightly less self interested and will take up less space in the Parliament.

In the interests of balance and non-partisanship let’s swap

Bill Shorten for

That stimulus package is more like it.

Don’t exeggerate about your stimulus package Bill.

Bill Granger

He could cook up some better alternative policies.

He could cook up some better alternative policies.

Greg Combet for

GC med

A Kombi van

This ol' jalopy could take the ALP further.

This ol’ jalopy could take the ALP further.

In the media I suggest we swap

Miranda Devine for

Queen of the poison pen

Queen of the poison pen


The fat man in drag is slightly less scary.

The fat man in drag is slightly less scary.

Shane Warne for



a bottle of fake tan.

Its basically the same thing but without the annoying tweets.

Its basically the same thing but without the annoying tweets.

And for the climactic finale I propose we swap

Tony Abbott for

He calls it a stimulus package.

He calls it a stimulus package.

for a drovers dog.


because a drover's dog could have won the last election.

because a drover’s dog could have won the last election.

On the to keep list I would include: Richard Fidler, Annabel Crab, Karl Kruszelnicki, Guy Pearce, Hamish and Andy, Shaun Micallef and Dadabulous.

What swaps would you like to arrange?

Who is on your keep list?









Opinions. They’re like cellulite. Most of us have some. Some have more than others. Its no fun talking to those who have none at all. I’m often hesitant to reveal mine – my opinions that is. Today I am going to step outside of my proverbial comfort zone and tackle a subject that  provokes passion in even the most polictically unengaged. That is the big F – Feminism.

Before I dive into these murky waters let me clarify a few things. Of course I am a feminist. Last time I looked I had lady bits. I’ve also got two gorgeous, bright, feisty daughters. Naturally I believe that women should be equally represented in the workplace, in public life and in the community. Of course I am opposed to violence against women. I am opposed to violence against men and horses too for that matter.

Caitlin Moran a writer who has smashed the cliches about humourless, man hating, hairy feminists sums up my position perfectly thus;

CM med


I’m neither ‘pro-women’ nor “anti-men.” I’m just “Thumbs up for the six billion.”

So we’ve established that I count myself as a feminist BUT (you knew a but was coming) I am disappointed by much of the feminist commentary in our main stream media. Frankly there’s alot of fluffy click bait masquerading as feminism out there. I have no problem with fluffy click bait but we’ve got serious issues to discuss right now.

The body image chestnut gets rolled on a basis. This piece by Clementine Ford had me banging my head against my desk.


The article is about a US comedian who based a routine around encouraging women to love and accept their bodies. Clementine slammed him for being condescending. She reasoned that women’s hatred of the bodies runs far deeper than seeking approval from men. That may be true – women are judged and valued for their looks to a far greater extent than men are. However this poor sod was trying to do the right thing. He was taking a stand against society’s increasingly impossible standards of beauty and telling us we are loved and accepted as we are. Surely this is a step in the right direction? One wonders if it is possible for a man to say anything right?

The body image band wagon rolled on with this


Indiana’s entrant in the recent Miss USA pageant caused a social media meltdown because her perfectly proportioned and well toned figure is not skeletal.

Miss Indiana.

Miss Indiana.

I doubt most men would “kick her out” as it were. “Attractive woman in a beauty pageant” makes for an unsurprising headline. I’m wondering why in 2014 we are still having these pageants.  Ironically thanks to feminism women have the right to parade around in heels and bikinis if they wish. Nevertheless in the interests of true equality I ask where are the male pageants? ( I’m not talking body building here – that is considered a sport)  I would love to see a gaggle of be-speedoed hunks strutting their stuff on stage. I would happily express shock on social media if – for example, Mr Indiana’s biceps were smaller than his head.

Speaking of scantily clad men, today’s Sydney Morning Herald carried this.


In case you were unaware (yeh right) there is an Instagram site called Porn for Women. It features shirtless hunks gazing broodily into the camera – and Alecia Simmonds is complaining about this. Seriously? Apparently the site is neither porny nor ethnically diverse enough. This could be easily remedied by setting up a rival site called “Pornier and ethnically diverse porn for women”.

I pride myself on thorough research and headed to Instragram immediately. I too was disgruntled by what I found. Tom Hiddleston is woefully under represented as are Damien Lewis, Eddie Redmayne, Rupert Grint and Alexander Ludwig**. There is a shameful bias against Rangas on this site. Whilst it featured Tom Hardy a plenty (not a problem) there was NO Colin Firth! How could any self respecting Porn for Women exclude Mr Darcy in that shirt?

No Darcy on Porn for Women? That's a feminist issue!

No Darcy? That’s a feminist issue!

To the mainstream media I say – whilst things have improved dramatically for women over the past few decades there’s still a long way to go. I want to see articles dealing with issues like the under representation of women in leadership both in business and government. We need more discussion about work/life balance. More seriously some of the measures in recent Federal Budget will be catastrophic for the most vulnerable women in society – eg cuts to funding of women’s refuges. We need the feminist press to make a big loud noise about this NOW.

Am I looking for wisdom in all the wrong places?

What do you think of the current feminist dialogue?

Who are your favorite commentators?

I welcome your dissent but not if you disagree about Colin Firth.


*  Clementine Ford is a fierce campaigner against violence against woman and has copped much flack on social media for daring to have an opinion. Some of it has been threatening and quite vile. On the whole I admire her courage but I dont agree with everything she’s written.

** Google him – YOU wont regret it.



























A blogging friend of mine has just issued a challenge. I regard myself as challenged in many respects – vertically challenged, aesthetically challenged and socially challenged among other things. Why not throw another challenge into the mix? I have been dared to come up with 50 random facts about myself. The thing is I don’t see myself as particularly fascinating – just another area of life in which I am challenged. I am going to have to dig deep to come up with 50 things that may hold your interest,. Here I go shovel in hand.

1)  I am somewhat self depreciating. ( You’d never have guessed that)

2) I live in house with 5 bathrooms.

3) I do not have a cleaner.

4) My house is not clean. sherlock med   5) I have been known to take “devils on horseback” to family events as a joke.

Mmmm retro goodness.

Mmmm retro goodness.

6) I have also been known to cook apricot chicken ironically.

7) I believe anyone who does anything ironically is overthinking.

8) I have a Bachelor of Economics from Sydney University and a Graduate Diploma of Applied Finance. (See what I mean about not being a very interesting person)

9) I recently added TAFE Cert IV in Bookkeeping to that shopping list of academic achievement.

10) The TAFE certificate was the most practical course I’ve ever done. I’m actually using what I learned.

11) I’ve just been to the gym. The Wallabies were there flexing away in the free weights area. I ask you why would any one want to go to the pilates class while that’s going on?

12) I attended Kirrawee High School. At the time I referred it as “Kirrawee Prison Camp”.

13) One of my earliest crushes was (embarrassingly) Tom Bailey of the Thompson Twins. I can pin point my fetish for red heads to the “Into the Gap” album of 1984.

Hawt in the 80s.

Hawt in the 80s.

14) I also loved Scritti Politti – remember them?

15) I discovered Robert Smith and The Cure in 1985. The rest of my teen years were spent wearing black and back combing my hair.

My teen idol.

My teen idol.

16) I also did some crazy gothic pencil case art.

17) I did not have a boyfriend in High School. sherlock-holmes-med 18) At university I fraternized with chemical engineers. Being female was enough to interest them.

19) I grew up 10 minutes away from my husband but did not meet him until I was 33 years old.

21) My husband has red hair.

22) My father is a school teacher. It is a job I could never do.

23) My mother is an architect. She is my intellectual superior.

24) I worked for 4 years in Securities Lending for a big assed American investment bank. Securities Lending is just one of the dodgy practices that led to the global financial crisis.

25) A few years later I was trained as an equity analyst. Equity analysts were among the dodgy individuals who contributed to the global financial crisis.

26) I spruiked for a coal seam gas company that is now in deep shite.

27) A “high net worth” individual made $3 million on a particular stock that I was covering. All I got was one lousy bottle of Moet.

28) When I was working The Establishment bar was the place to be seen. I couldn’t stand that joint.

29) I much preferred The Australian Hotel in The Rocks.

Scene of many shenanigans.

Scene of many shenanigans.

30) Once while on a date at the Australian Hotel in The Rocks I fell off a bar stool. I whacked my head on the bar stool on the way back up.

31) The date thought that was hilarious.

32) One of the nicest things a man has ever said to me was ” You  think you have a big arse but you really dont”.

33) I purchased and completely paid off a one bedroom warehouse apartment in Chippendale. It was a shoe box but I’m proud of myself for doing that.

34) In his wedding speech my husband said when describing our first date “What Brenda lacked in medieval weaponry she made up for in good looks and a short skirt that will remain etched upon my mind forever”

35) I am finding this challenge – well challenging.

36) I am an office bearer for my local P&C.

37) After experiencing the decision making process of the P&C, I believe that there is something to be said for benign dictatorship.

38) I believe that if Malcom Turnbull ever became PM this country would experience a benign dictatorship.

39) My husband is quite exceptional.

40) I am punching above my weight with my husband.

41) I have tried to rectify this by putting on weight.

42) I was in my late 20s before I discovered how fascinating science is.

43) My life path may have been quite different had I realised that earlier.

44) When I was younger I dreamed of being either an artist or an author.

45) My work on the stock market was equally if not more creative than the above two professions.

46) 2013 was all about Tom Hiddleston. This year is all about Clive Standen.

Clive Standen med

Oh my! That’s my kind of pick up truck.

47) Every day begins with a walk to the beach and a large skinny cappuccino.

48) I love living in the Eastern Beaches and will never return to the Shire.

49) My favorite TV show of all time is Northern Exposure.

50) My favorite song of all time is “Isn’t She Lovely” by Stevie Wonder because its how I feel about my two girls.

Pant pant – that’s the sound of me collapsing over the finish line for this challenge. Over to you. Tell me something random about yourself.

Love Mumabulous


That’s Entertainment

There’s no denying that Mumabulous is a late bloomer (arguably a non-bloomer). The fact that I married for the first (and hopefully only) time at aged 37 shows that in many important respects I’ve dragged the chain*. However never have I been so far behind the proverbial curve than when it comes to the institution that is Game of Thrones.We are well into Season 4 and I’ve only just caught on.

My reluctance to get onboard with GoT had nothing to do with a lack of encouragement from Dadabs. Since the series began he has been trying to convince me to watch. “You really should  watch Game of Thrones – its a romance” he’d urge.  Sure it is – when your definition of romance is hoards of buxom wenches and some nimble sword play. Fellow bloggers also recommended the show because Kit Harrington!

This should have been all the motivation I needed...

This should have been all the motivation I needed…

Nevertheless I resisted. I reasoned there was only room in my heart for one televisual obsession and that was Mad Men.

Completely obsessed by the shenanigans at Sterling Cooper and Partners.

Completely obsessed by the shenanigans at Sterling Cooper and Partners.

Then Vikings came along and I realized that despite having a small (but remarkably firm) chest , I’ve got a really big heart. It’s roomy enough to accommodate all the crumpets. Infact my heart is like the Tardis – bigger on the inside.

I've got plenty of room for Rollo and Ragner (sod orf Lagertha)

I’ve got plenty of room for Rollo and Ragner (sod orf Lagertha)

My infatuation with the Vikings only strengthened the case for Game of Thrones in my husband’s mind. I’d enjoy  45 minutes in Hunkytown (aka iron age Denmark ) every Monday evening and report back to Dadabs about the double crossing, politicking and shirtless sword fighting that went on. “Well” he’d say “If you think that’s good. You should watch Game of Thrones. It’s all about politics and back stabbing”. “But I thought you said it was a romance?” I’d query. “There is some romance in it” he’d reply. (Note that it has gone from being “a romance” to having “some romance in it” – a bit like Pride and Prejudice has some action sequences).

Matters came to a head over a weekend when two lots of friends reiterated that I “really must watch Game of Thrones”. Dadabs, being a take charge kind of guy, made an executive decision. That Sunday evening after putting our girls to bed early, the box set was pulled out and I  was seated in front of Game of Thrones series one, episode one. Like Daenerys Targaryen I had embarked on a long journey and I had know idea where I would end up or if indeed I would make it to the end alive. Also like Daenerys I was surrounded by beefcake

and hawt chix

and hawt chix.

I’ve since had what can only be described as a GoT binge. From my experience so far, its safe to say that everything you have heard about it is true. For example ;

  • Kit Harrington (aka John Snow) is hawt.
  • The plot is as complicated and as convoluted as the Australian tax system.  I’ve had  to refer to flow charts to work out what’s going on.
Seriously you need to flow chart to work out what is going on.

Seriously you need to flow chart to decipher  GoT

  • Stemming from the above point, cast members other than Kit Harrington are hawt but I dont know their names.
  • Peter Dinklage is AWESOME.  He is so much AWESOMENESS condensed into the smallest possible package. The Dink is not just a star – he is a neutron star.


  • Kit Harrington is one sweet babycakes.
  • Its very violent. Heads literally roll every five minutes.
  • Women disrobe on the flimsiest of premises. Needless to the nudity rarely adds anything to the plot. If you have never seen a pair of tits, I would strongly recommend watching Game of Thrones. One episode is enough to give you a very good idea of what they look like. If I were a betting woman I’d  wager that the writer George RR Martin did not get laid in High School. (Here’s the thing – neither did I! None of the best people did).
Two important plot points.

Two pert-inent  plot points.

  • Oh my! Kit Harrington is some tasty crumpet.


Sorry - this only makes sense if you've seen the show.

Sorry – this  meme only makes sense if you’ve seen the show.

Do you get GoT? Are you Mad about Mad Men? Do you go beserk for the Vikings? What’s your TV obsession?

If you’ll excuse me I’m off to watch another episode of Game of Thrones.

Winter is coming.


Love a good mash up.

Love a good mash up.





Mumabulous is feeling less than fabulous this week. I think I need to purchase these items to express my mood.  Such a stylish ensemble they would make on a bootilicious middle aged lady like myself.

I've got a case of IOS.

I’ve got a case of IOS.

Balanced out with cranky pants.

Balanced out with cranky pants.

Before you ask I am NOT suffering from PMS. I am too marvelous for PMS (though my husband would probably tell you otherwise). Its the fortuitous combination of a head cold and child induced sleepus-interuptus that has me in a funk. Of course confronting scenes like this on a daily basis does nothing to lift me out of my malaise.

Guess who's cleaning this up?

Guess who’s cleaning this up?

So blog fans I am going to take my blues out on you. Misery loves company and a problem shared is a problem doubled right? Lets get down and have a good old fashioned cleansing bitch.

Lets whine about the internet – again.

The interwebs is really annoying me at the moment. I cant seem to go near it without a Viewster popping up in my face and chewing up precious broadband. Meanwhile my Facebook sidebar is polluted with ads for cosmetic surgeons and weight loss wonder fruit.

Clearly I've been wasting my time at the gym.

Clearly I’ve been wasting my time at the gym.

On the positive side liposuction and Garcinia extract will offset the effect of cooking and eating all the recipes for caramel slice and the like that crowd my news feed.

Bitching Can Be Like Shooting Fish in a Barrel.

Rihanna has made herself an easy target with this effort.

Glittery cling wrap?

Yes – you’re hawt. Yes we’re all jealous. We can clearly see your points Ri Ri.

I don’t consider myself a prude. I really dont care what hangs out at the beach or on Mardi Gras night but I always thought it kosher to actually wear clothes to red carpet events? Perhaps I’m not such a progressive thinker after all? Meanwhile true gender equality will be attained on the day Fassbender collects his Oscar swathed in nought but glittery cling wrap. Oh my – that’s what I call a packed lunch.

Speaking of inappropriate clothing (or lack thereof) -

An effortless segue

An effortless segue

I am deeply concerned for the well being of Dr Geoffrey Edelesten. I seriously fear his new squeeze is going to kill him with her unconcealed weapons. Wouldn’t that be a great loss to society?

Are those two for real? (A question that needs asking on a number of levels)

Are those two for real? (A question that needs asking on a number of levels)

Another moan about Murdoch

True story – back in the 1950s toilet paper was not readily available or perhaps my grandparents were too stingy to buy it. It was my father’s job to cut the news paper up into appropriately sized squares which were hung on a string in the outdoor dunny. He even had a song about it “Sydney Morning Herald cut it up and hang it on a string. Sydney Morning Herald it makes your bum sing”. Frankly these days the Daily Telegraph isn’t even up to that humble task. I wouldn’t want the utterances of Andrew Bolt and Miranda Devine et al anywhere near my exposed nether regions.

In my naivety I didnt think the Tele could get any lower but in recent weeks it has been plumbing fresh depths by shaming and vilifying disability pensioners. I even saw one sensationalized article where the disabled were accused of “sending the country broke”.  Seriously? At the same time I did not see any complaints about tax avoidance from the big end of town. I fully expect to see a well researched and carefully nuanced exposé on that topic in the coming weeks (NOT).

Admittedly the Fairfax press isn’t much better with its left leaning bias but I have vowed never to put another cent in Rupert’s pocket again.

Just as well that's not the Tele Benedict Crumpetbatch.

Just as well that’s not the Tele Benedict Crumpetbatch.

And while we’re railing against the Murdoch axis of evil…

Another elegant segue

Another elegant segue

I really enjoyed hearing MalTurn sock it too Andrew Bolt. It was the bright spot in an otherwise dull week.

Its a knock out!

Its a knock out!

In fact it made me want to get out my middle aged pom poms and shake my bon bons in a rousing cheer for Mal!

Go Mal! Go Mal!

Go Mal! Go Mal!

What are you peeved about this week? Did you enjoy Mal’s turn?

Bitchily yours




Guilty As Charged

When you are a comfortably off denizen of the middle classes guilt is a constant in the back drop of your life. You are ever conscious of not being part of the “solution” and hence being part of the “problem”. Everything from global warming, to national debt through to third world slavery is your fault personally because of your overconsumption. You bastard! Mind you the mildly irritating sense of self reproach doesn’t motivate you to change your behaviour. It just causes you to wince inwardly during occasional moments of reflection. Issues dont have to be “big” to trigger moral unease. Sometimes the smaller the transgression the greater the feelings of shame. So in the interests of cleansing my mortal soul I’m going to confess some minor things that I’m feeling really lousy about right now. Please tell me that I’m not the only one.

Social Media

Everybody’s got at least one friend or acquaintance who shows off fabulousity of their freakin’ fabulous existence on social media. You know the type who are continually posting magazine quality photos of their glamorous tropical holiday, their perfectly photogenic children and their Vogue Living standard home renovations. Most irksome are those who post photos of themselves looking super hawt in a bikini (at my age!!!). I hate those bastards! Don’t you just hate them too!

Then I come over all ashamed of myself for being envious. Its not the fault of the said posters that they are better looking, more inherently stylish and more popular than myself. I should just accept my inferiority graciously. Or fight back with aspirational shots of my own.

I see your glamorous tropical holiday and raise you Dadabs' forearms.

I see your glamorous tropical holiday and raise you Dadabs’ forearms BTW – he cooked all that.


Behold my backyard pool.

Behold my backyard pool.

Stalking Exes

Showing off may be the most popular purpose of social media but stalking exes is surely a close second. C’mon – If you have an ex, you’ve done it. I’ll admit that I’ve become a middle aged Nelson Muntz on discovering that someone who spurned my affections in the 1990s has (there’s no delicate way to express this) really porked up. The schadenfeude is glorious until the guilt kicks in. What a petty person I must be to think this way…. but I cant possibly be alone in this. Can I? Then there’s that sinking feeling when you encounter an ex on social media who is still smokin’ hawt.

Me while FB stalking exes

Me while FB stalking exes


The Body Image Movement

I’m hesitant to admit it but I’m not completely onboard with the Body Image movement that’s been clogging my interwebs lately. I want to embrace the whole Embrace thing (https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/embrace/embrace-the-documentary-that-will-create-global-ch) but I’m not quite there yet. Its not that I am opposed to it. On the contrary I believe its motivated by the best of intentions. Of course we should be spreading the message that woman (and men too) should love and accept their physical selves. My problem is that once again its focusing on a woman’s appearance rather than her contribution to society. On top of that there doesn’t seem to be a male equivalent. We’re not seeing non-buffed men posing nude in order to “empower” themselves. To me that in itself indicates that feminism still has a ways to go. However in having these misgivings I feel like I’m letting down the sisterhood in some way. Please feel free to hurl rotten tomatoes at me sisterhood!


Its still about how we look not what we do.

Its still about how we look not what we do.

Political Hypocrisy

I cried misogyny with the best of them when folks based their criticisms of Julia Gillard on her appearance (and I was astounded when Germaine Greer had a go had her dress sense). Nevertheless I confess to getting a perverse pleasure from lampooning Tony Abbott’s penchant for budgie smugglers and lycra. I’m such a hypocrite. Please feel free to throw rotten tomatoes at me political purists.

Posting this stuff is so wrong yet feels so right.

Posting this stuff is so wrong yet feels so right.

How about you? Are you guilty as charged?

Shamefully yours


The lawyer for my defense. Yeh - in my dreams.

The lawyer for my defense. Yeh – in my dreams.