Showing posts with label women. Show all posts
Showing posts with label women. Show all posts

Thursday, 22 October 2015

Frocktober 2015: Day 22 - Cleopatra - a milestone



I set the challenge - if we hit $3.5k by the end of the day I would commute home on a peak hour train as Cleopatra. 

Well guess what motherfrockers - we did it!!! 

So I rode for an hour on the peak hour train, with a stopover at Town Hall station and a platform change - it was such a pain in the asp!

Please do sponsor me - the average age of ovarian cancer diagnosis is 63. One in 90 women will be diagnosed with ovarian cancer in her lifetime. Together we can change these statistics and help fund an early detection test. 

And HUGE thanks to those who have sponsored me already. You guys ROCK! 


Wednesday, 13 November 2013

Lily Allen Nails It Again



How great is she? Just how great is Lily Allen?

This is how great Lily Allen is.

Thursday, 19 September 2013

Why The Hypoxi Radio Ad is Poxy. In Fact. It Sucks.


There's a radio ad on at the moment for Hypoxi. 

Before we get into the ad, let me talk about Hypoxi. Hypoxi is, in my book, a load of codswallop. It's meant to be a weight loss thing, but looks like an 80s computer that you stick your legs in and apparently - shazam - your cellulite will disappear. See why I think it's a load of bollocks?

I might as well get the Atari 64 out and stick my pins in and see how that goes. Probably just as effective. Call me cynical, but Hypoxi - don't call me maybe.

In my book - if you want to tone up - diet and exercise. Not a poxy Hypoxi machine. 

But anyway, I digress. Back to the radio ad. 

It starts off something like:

"Ladies, what shape is your body?" 

(Pause)

"Ooooh, that's a lot of pears."

And then it goes on to talk about the merits of poxy Hypoxi. And on it goes.

The premise being - pear-shaped women = ouch. Poor you. But we can do something about it. We can fix your pear-shaped body. 

Well I'm here to say - screw you Hypoxi ads and your petri dish for breeding insecurity in women. Women already have enough insecurities without you planting a seed of doubt in our minds. 

I'm a pear shaped woman, and I don't need you to validate - or even erase my shape. For all you know, I might be totally happy being a pear. I love pears. Juicy, tasty fruit that they are. I'm ok with being a pear. 

I really detest this ad. And whenever it comes on, I'm pretty sure my blood pressure goes up. 

Who comes up with these ads that are targeted at making you feel bad about yourself? I for one am not going to align myself with a brand that makes me feel like poo and guilts me into trying their product. I won't buy a thing from them. 

Pear, apple, banana, kiwi fruit, mango - whatever shape you are - don't feel ashamed ladies! 

And this, my friends is why I think the Hypoxi radio ad is totally and utterly poxy. You can have your Hypoxi and jam it. 

Tuesday, 4 June 2013

The Sisterhood of Smudged Make-Up. And Skirts Tucked Into Stockings.




The other night I got home and realised that I had eyeshadow smeared down the side of my eye. I don't know how long it had been that way, for all I know, it was all night. I'd been out socialising, and as far as I was concerned I spent the night looking like I had a partial black eye. Hawt or what?

And just the other day at work I caught sight of my face in the mirror. My lipstick had done a neat lick up the side so I looked not dissimilar to the Joker. How long for? I don't know.

Pair this with the fact that a few weeks ago I was sitting at my desk, went to stand up and realised that my dress was tucked into my stockings. I'd just walked through the whole office, up the stairs of the main entrance, and back to my desk. How visible were my knickers? I don't know.

The question is: why didn't anyone tell me I looked like a massive goober? Why people, why?

I always make a point of telling people (subtly) if they have lipstick on their teeth, or their mascara has run, or even tucking tags in for them, simply because it's embarrassing going back to the mirror and discovering you look dishevelled. Or have your dress tucked into your knickers. And that you walked. All. Through. The. Office and the foyer, and everywhere this way. Gulp.

So this is my point, why don't we have a sisterhood of smudged make-up? I solemnly pledge and promise that I will tell my sisters if things have gone awry in the interests of not looking like me, a goober, in public.

image via here

Friday, 18 January 2013

Grey Matters. Does It?


Pre-Christmas I had my my haircut. It was a red hot, dry, brittle mess and needed some TLC. I just had a wee trim and was joking with my hairdresser saying "If you find any grey hairs, tell me."

And then I expected her to say - "Oh Lexi, there's no grey hairs."

But alas, Kellie responded with "Oh yes I did just find one."

I was agog, I was aghast was my hair turning into an old lady's at last?

I almost fell out of my chair and asked her to show me this ruthless grey. She hunted around and found it. I asked her to pull it out. She declined. I told her to show me where it was - and I yanked that sucker out.

Just two weeks later, I asked my sister Sarah to check if I had any unruly greys. She found another.

This is Bad News Boulevarde.

And now this week? Two more of those crazy grey bastards. Assimilating with the rest of the brunettes as though they're meant to be there. 

What to do?

I'm having a quiet sad-on that they're out there, Mulder. I'm quietly going grey, and I hate it. I've studied why I hate it - because it's beyond my control. 

I know. I am Captain Ridiculous. With grey hairs. 

Wednesday, 18 July 2012

Happy Mandela Day:: Ladies, This Is Your Call To Action



Today is Mandela Day.

What does this mean? For 67 years Nelson Mandela has dedicated his life on working to correct human actions that have led to poverty. Nelson Mandela continues to fight the good fight and change the world.

Today, to celebrate Nelson Mandela's 67 years, Dermalogica are hoping you can direct microloans to women who need a hand. You can be a change maker in the click of a button. All the loans are fully funded already - all you have to do is click to make someone's life completely different.

Please go online by midnight today - we're trying to direct 670 microloans today!

Did you know
* 66% of the world's work is done by women, yet...
* 70% of people below the poverty line are women
* 1% of the world's land is owned by women

You can learn more here about the important role Dermalogica is playing in helping women in poverty and empowering women entrepreneurs. Their joinFITE community and initiative has already funded over 14,000 women and businesses.

Click here to play your role in directing a loan. It takes seconds to make a change!

Together we can empower 670 women around the world who are less fortunate than ourselves to make changes to their lives. That's pretty damn powerful. GO!

* I have put so many links in here to make it as easy as possible to click through and change a woman's life.

Monday, 9 July 2012

You Want Camel Toe? You Get Camel Toe



One of the key searches that bring people to PottyMouthMama is, lo and behold, camel toes. It seems a lot of people are scouring the interwebz for information on camel toes. Camel toes. Camel toes. Camel toes. You just can not get enough of camel toes.


Thankfully gal about town Pip has hooked me up with this beauty.


BEHOLD!


The Smooth Groove. Camel toes begone! Banish your camel toe to the back of your wardrobe er, somewhere else because they have no place with you. No. Not now that we've discovered the 'stylist's secret for a smooth profile'. I know. I know. I know.


You've been looking everywhere for something like this.


Well thank Pip. She found it.

Did you know that 55% of women have experienced camel toe at some point? Did you ever think?
Did you know you can buy a Smooth Groove for just $23.92?! Me neither. And it comes in black, white or clear. How jolly versatile!



It will help you prevent a camel toe in your favourite catsuit. Catsuits for the win! Or alternatively you could buy your clothes a size up. Now there's a novel idea.


But if you're keen to see what Smooth Groove can do for you - check this out hipsters.


Now get on over there and buy yourself a Smooth Groove. Tell them Pip sent you.

Thursday, 5 April 2012

Guest Post: With Nat Kringoudis


Today on PottyMouthMama I have a guest post - which is not something I ordinarily do. But during the four years I have been blogging, I have had the great fortune of meeting some truly inspiring women. Women that I wanted to share with the rest of the world. To shout about from the rooftops. 
Well this is my rooftop, and today Nat Kringoudis is guest posting. Nat is the brains and the beauty behind The Pagoda Tree and Fertile Body, Heart & Soul. 
I've known Nat for over two years. She's the type of woman who very politely takes life by the scruff of its neck - and makes it better. That means it's positive and bright. I can't say enough good things about Nat - she's like a bright nurturing beacon of light.  
Nat juggles her incredibly busy work life with life as the mum of two gloriously beautiful babes. The below post has been written by Nat. 
-----------------------------------------------
This time last year, I fell pregnant. Something many women find themselves doing at some point in their life, but equally it's no mean feat.   As a natural fertility specialist, I know that some women’s journeys to pregnancy can be more difficult than other women's. Another thing I know is babies.  I know how to make them, I know how to keep them in until they are well baked and then I know how to get them out when my patients are ready to have their babies. I practice this everyday in my clinic.
However nine months later, I was in for a shock when I experienced nothing short of a horrendous 18 hour labour, drug free (just saying), which ended in an emergency c-section.  Again, something I know many women have been through, but certainly not something I would have chosen if I had been given an option.  This birth didn't go to my plan. I couldn't control it. This took some coming to terms with. It was a good lesson for me as a health professional, not one I wanted to have to learn but I took it on board. 
Just as the dust was settling and I was finally getting my life back into gear post cesarean and I was coming out of the haze of new mum-hood, I got a phone call that would change our family's life. My son was diagnosed with Cystic Fibrosis (CF).  I can’t remember much from that day. This was not how I'd envisaged this working out for us.
As a health educator and blogger, I’m yet to share my story on the world wide web.  Now a few months have passed, I've got more of our story to tell. Initially I was wary to share.  I wanted others to see my son Geordie for who he is rather than 'Geordie with CF'. You see, we very quickly learnt that people don’t know anything good in regards to CF. They know that people with CF suffer, they are sick and in the past they very often died at a young age. I also wanted the chance to prove to people (and perhaps even to myself) that that would not be my son's experience.  I needed time to show others (and again, prove to myself) that I could hopefully keep him well.  Not to be delusional about the reality of CF, I realised the challenges that the future would hold for us, but I would use all my might to scurry through every crevice of my brain and use all the tools I had.  The 11 years I devoted to studying health care was for a cause.  It seems, this is what I had studied for.
I’m no stranger to CF. My best friend of 20 years has a son with CF. Two best friends, two boys with CF – what are the chances?  This question I have asked myself a thousand times.  What are the chances?  With 3000 people living in Australia with CF, how is it that my high school bestie and I could both find ourselves here?  Most people's reaction is – ‘you’re so lucky you have each other.’  I agree, whilst I am so lucky to have her - this reality has been the hardest thing to come to terms with because the biggest risk to a child with CF, is actually being around another child with CF.   It means that our two sons shouldn’t really play together.   How do we do play dates?  How do I cope with limited time together?  I’m still learning to come to terms with it and it’s hard.  Really hard.  What about our dreams of taking them on a flight together to Disney land?   
 The first few weeks left my heart dark and heavy, like somebody had dropped a blanket over it.  Every time I felt like I had my head around it, I’d be punched in the face again as if somebody was saying “oh no you don’t – get back to feeling sorry for yourself.”  Thing is – that ain’t me.  Soon after, I couldn’t face it any longer.  I took charge and I took it real good.  We had to move on and get going with the job of making sure Geordie is a healthy boy.  
See, Geordie picked the right family or should I say, he was given to us as a gift.  Whatever way you look at it, I had lessons to learn and still do.  I learnt I’m a control freak – yup!  Who knew, right?  Granted, he has a bloody determined mother with a head harder than rodeo bull and a really level headed easy-going daddy.  He’s way lucky.  He also has a sister with a love for him that is larger than life itself.
Prior to having children, I would wonder what they were going to look and be like.  Every parent dreams of their ‘perfect’ child, or rather, they want their child to be perfect.  When I received the CF news there was a moment where all of this ‘what about...’ flashed in front of me like a broken neon sign that is shorting out.  I thought to myself  ‘this isn’t what I imagined, somebody let me out of this silly dream.’   When Geordie was diagnosed, so many messages streamed through saying “I’m so sorry to hear about Geordie” like he was gone and we were in mourning – and this broke my heart to say the least.  Reality was, there was nothing to be ‘sorry’ about (and I know these messages were sent with the best intentions), he was still Geordie and frankly nothing about him had changed.  I took it upon myself to make sure people understood the positives, that there was hope and that my Geordie had a big, bright future.  I understood that people didn’t quite know what to say to us, and that sometimes, silence is ok.  That’s a big deal coming from this chatterbox.  We didn’t need words, we just needed to know that we had support – thankfully, we had plenty of that. 
We’ve been lucky.  Geordie is going great guns.  He’s gaining weight at a rapid rate, and he is well, and this alone lifts the weight off my shoulders (not literally!).   Research in CF has come along in leaps and bounds and the future looks so bright for kids with CF. The big thing with CF is that you don’t know what you’ve been dealt.  Nobody can tell you how ‘well’ or ‘sick’ your child will be, and there are so many factors that go in the mix – genetics, environment, lifestyle and luck I’m sure.  The things I can’t control – I’m letting go of, but those that I can I’m going all the way.  I’m blessed with knowledge and I’m blessed with my perfect son.  I truly feel lucky.
Someday we will all go to Disney land – it might be on separate flights, but we will get there and we will have the time of our lives, together.  Geordie has already taught me that life is for the living – we will be making every day count for the rest of our long, long lives.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 


Nat is currently finishing work on her upcoming e-book on priming your body for fertility, with tips and tricks for a wellness overhaul, including over 25 recipes for building a fertile body. I'll keep you posted when it comes out.

image: the beautiful image of Nat with baby Geordie is courtesy of Nat

Friday, 17 February 2012

The Very Lovely Robyn Lawley





Have you met the very beautiful Robyn Lawley? Apparently she's a plus-size model, but really she's just bloody gorgeous.

She's Australian, she's 22 and a beautiful role model - she's a very normal, very healthy size 14-16. And she has the most beautiful, healthy attitude to her body.

In my book, much more beautiful than skin and bone, she's a real woman to be celebrated.

I read an interview with her in the new issue of Madison and I have to say, I am totally smitten. There's a cute video over yonder too of her working it for the cameras for the cover.

There needs to be more positive role models for all our daughters. A celebration of sizes.

"Normal size can be beautiful and you don’t have to be skinny or skeletal. There’s huge pressure for women to always be slim but I always find a little bit of curve is nicer to look at.”


Check out her Robyn Lawley Eats here. All sorts of foodie inspiration.

By the way - have you checked this out over on A Cup of Jo?

images via and here and here

Wednesday, 21 December 2011

Watch It Immediately

Have you seen Shit Girls Say? If not I demand you watch it immediately. It's funny. Trust me. Stop what you're doing and watch it. Hilaire. Watch back to back episodes. PottyMouthMama wants you to watch it.


There now, don't you feel better? I have watched it repeatedly. So funny.

Also - while you're here, click here and come play on Facebook with me.

Wednesday, 9 March 2011

Are We Equal?

Well clearly we're not. That was a dumb question. But what are your thoughts, hopes, dreams for what it means to be a woman?

Monday, 7 March 2011

Aspirational: Here's Your Pep Talk


I've been thinking a lot lately, about the beauty in being unique.

Take for example if all houses were exact copies of the house next door, all the houses in the street were exactly the same. There's no beauty, it's just replicas. Carbon copies.

There is great joy in difference. In unique-ness.

And I think this applies to bodies. In particular female figures.

If all women looked the same, had the same figures, same bra size, same waist measurements, same same same, en masse - mirror image, no difference. Boring. Beyond boring. You'd be like a car, mass-produced, pick your year and your model and off you go.

Rejoice in your figure. No one else has it. Celebrate your flaws. No one else has the same. Revel in your unique-ness.
End of pep talk.

Thursday, 21 October 2010

Guilty As Charged: A Very Messy Handbag

I know. Lock me up and throw away the key, for I have sinned.

My handbag is a mess. A right royal mess. It contains, in no particular order:

- my wallet
- my sunglasses sans case
- random business cards
- random receipts
- my beauty bag
- beauty products that have become separated from their bag
- my phone - floating
- my keys
- a notepad
- a pencil
- a pen
- an empty box of Panadol
- an English Breakfast teabag (yes, very random, I have an excuse though - BAD tea at work)
- loose coins (what am I? A bloke?)
- hand cream
- ear phones for my phone
- reading glasses
- keys
- crumbs
- lots of crumbs

What lives in my bag? A mouse? A baby bird perhaps? Why the crumbs?

Thankfully I was recently sent a miracle in the form of a Borne Naked Handbag liner. Seriously good. I've revolutionised my handbag. No more disorganisation in my bag. No more losing my keys. No more crumbs.

And my favourite bit? I change handbags from time to time - and because I am just not that thorough, I usually leave vital pieces in my handbag. And then go to work without my glasses which makes for a squinty day at the office. No more leaving things behind friends. NO MORE!

I'll tell you another awesome sauce facet of the Borne Naked liner. It's clear. So I can see clearly what's in there at a glance. My keys, my glasses, my wallet, my favourite lip gloss - and BOOM! I am out the door. Streamlining peeps. That's what it's all about. Anything that helps me be a little more organised is fabulous by me.

Viva la Borne Naked revolution! A handbag makeover is borne.

Monday, 11 October 2010

Stigma Number Four:: Breast Check


The other day I had to go to my GP for a regular check up. And to get her to freeze a stubborn plantar wart. Again.

While I was there she asked if I checked my breasts regularly.

I laughed.

I mean, I know I shouldn't have laughed. I am fully aware of that. But I am complacent.

I explained to her that because I am lacking in the breast department, I tend not to routinely check my breasts - because if there isn't anything there, then how can anything else be there? I concluded my weak argument with the fact that, despite my complacency, I realised I really should be checking my breasts regularly.

She conducted the exam, and then said "Yes, I see - I'm feeling more rib cage than breast tissue." What a cruel way to reiterate that my boobies are lacking! But I did laugh.

Anyway, the crux of today's story is this. Check your breasts. Monthly. Make it a ritual. Too many women discover too late that they have breast cancer. Cancer sucks.
Click here to go through to check out the array of how-tos on YouTube.
And if in doubt - go to your GP. If there's something not quite right - get it checked out.

Tuesday, 28 September 2010

Is Brazil Better Than The Bush?

I once had a Brazillian wax. It wasn't a high point in my life. In fact I remember lying there, a captive of the beautician, in a very unflattering position. I clearly remember wanting to punch her in the head and run away half waxed. But I stuck it out. Stuck being the operative word. Through her horror stories, her causing me pain, her telling me all about previous clients and their dedication to the Brazillian, I was stranded. Marooned at the hands of a waxer. I lay there and wondered why the heck I had decided that I needed to try this. And immediately I knew I'd never be back - either to her - or to Brazil. I didn't need to stamp my passport. I was happy to stay in the bush.

And then I went through the perfectly maintained landing strip phase. I'd routinely be waxed and maintain, maintain, maintain.

There's no way in the world I'd shave, employ electrolysis, use depilatories or any other hair removal scheme. Waxing it is for me.

But how to decide what's up in the land of bespoke bikini lines? Bikini line trends wax and wane just like fashion - it changes as does our skirt length.

As we have celebrities - and I use the term loosely, such as Britney Spears, Paris Hilton etc baring all to the world, so do the hordes follow. But not me. I stand defiant. I am not going back to the Brazillian. Not ever. It's Wrongtown. Post code unknown. I don't care who is going to Brazil, but I am not. Brazil is good for Havaianas and soccer. But not for bikini lines.

I read a great piece by SMH's Jacqueline Lunn recently about her good friend of many, many years, declaring that unless a woman had a Brazillian, he wasn't interested. She was outraged. So was I. Who the heck does this guy think he is dictating how a lady garden should be maintained? Does he subject himself to the Boyzillian? (Gosh I hope not, that's all sorts of wrong).

But that's not what I'm here to talk about today. Nope. What I want to talk about is whether the bush is better than Brazil. In my belief, yes. Yes it is. I'm not talking a forest. An unruly forest. I'm talking a bush. Not overtly cultivated, but a modicum of trimming required.

Kate Moss is allegedly a fan of the bush. In fact maybe we could rename her Kate Bush.

There's a whole market of lady trimmers out there. A growing market of hairy horticultural tools. What of you? Sitting there, reading this. What are your thoughts? Brazil or the Bush. Cast your vote and be heard.



Check out Katy Perry's response to the Sesame Street hoo-har on SNL here.

Thursday, 23 September 2010

But What Do You Think?

Word on Sesame Street is that Katy Perry's clip got pulled because of her apparent 'risque' dress. I mean, it's not the most demure outfit - but seriously, parents have a problem with juggernauts? Juggernauts are the bearers of mama's milk, the life-juice for so many babies. Breasts are part of life. She's not wearing vinyl at least. I'm not a big Katy Perry advocate, but how is her outfit any more saucy than Wonder Woman.

However, Matt has just informed me that Lynda Carter is a heckovalotta hotter than Katy - well yes, that's true, but what's in an inch or two of cleavage. This is boobie racism in my book!

What four year old is going to say - 'Hey mama, that's a whole lotta hootie going on there?!' If they're saying that, there's something wrong in that per-ticular household. Capiche?

Peeps, this is grown-ups sexualising hooties. Plain and simple.

What say you mamas?

Wednesday, 10 March 2010

Rated R



I watched a show the other night. Actually, I will correct that. I happened to catch part of a show the other night about labia-plasty. It was ABC's 'HUNGRY BEAST'.

Anyway, it was all about how the soft porn industry has to regulate the look of the vulva to meet the standards of the classification board. So what if your labia doesn't meet the standards of the board? You get treated to digital labiaplasty.

You may be wondering why I am concerned about the regulation of the soft porn industry, and truth be, I'm not. But I am concerned about the fact that women are being told another body part must conform, or they should think about getting surgery. And from here I am guessing that this is only going to snowball to become a bigger and bigger issue.

You can read the blog post from Hungry Beast here.

You can read an article from SMH about the growth industry that is designer vaginas here.
Images of crass jackets made from blow up dolls by Sander Reijgers.

Monday, 8 March 2010

Mothering In The 'Hood.

Cath at Chunky Chooky alerted me to the fact that today is International Women's Day.

Hear us roar.

What have I been doing to celebrate?

Emancipating my lingerie drawer that seems to be more cottontail than lingerie. It's the sad facts people, but today I decided to get rid of those knickers I just don't dig on. They are free to go wherever it is they are going to go, anywhere but here, do not pass go, do not collect $200. They are gone.

And what else? Well hanging the washing on the line (important because without clean washing, we would all be stinky and manky and just not feel fresh!).

Tidying the house (important because the house is a festering cess pit of piles, and piles and more random piles).

Folding washing (important because otherwise it's just sitting there in an unruly pile and then peeps can find their clothes).

Throwing out old shoes (important because I have been hoarding them for no particular reason. They are holey, they are dead, I let them go).

Getting rid of clothes that either are in a bad way, or make me feel yucky (important because this streamlines my wardrobe and narrows the incidences of feeling yucky).

Feeding the smalls (important because otherwise they tend to get cranky and unruly).

Funnily enough, yesterday when I was at the art gallery, I bought a post card of Grace Cossington-Smith's well known painting and when I did, I was thinking about this:

No matter how crummy a day can be, no matter how many tanties we have to endure, no matter how spent we are at the end of each day, our work is THE most important work of all, as mothers (and fathers), because we are raising our children to be the best that they can be - and we're responsible for the next generation. We want things to be better for them, and each day, we are doing important things: even if that's as simple as fixing them a snack-a-roo, or reading them their favourite book. It's all important work. Even if you think you're just knitting a sock, you're keep a foot warm.

Hooray for all the beautiful women and mother's of the world. You're all top totties. x

Tuesday, 16 February 2010

Birthing


I've written previously about my two birth experiences. Both were completely different, and both were incredible. The Doctor loves to hear about how he arrived. We were lucky to be surrounded by passionate, supportive midwives who empowered us to make our own decisions (that coupled with being incredibly lucky made for two beautiful births).
If you're passionate about women having choices and being able to make their own decisions - then rally 'round sisters.
Shout it from the rooftops.
The Sydney event will be outside the office of Tanya Plibersek
11-117 Devonshire Street Surry Hills NSW 2010
Thursday, February 18 from 10:30 am to 11:30 am
Find your local event here.
For more information visit here.
Found via the ridiculously cool Rummey Bears