Fifty Two to 30

Sometimes, people disappoint me exceedingly with their selfishness. More often than I think necessary, it’s over one loud and obnoxious complaint they make. Smoke. The kind generated by preventative back-burning by volunteer firefighters around our community. It bothers me, because it so blindly ignores the implications of what would happen if these precious people were able to live the 100% smoke free lives they crave. In the summer of 2002, we were at my grandparents place for Christmas. I was 14 and in that typical teenager stage where I was more interested in sitting inside reading than joining my family outside for lawn bowls. It ended up being the most fortuitous decision of my formative years. The phone rang, and being Christmas Day, I answered it figuring I could kill some boredom by having a chat to whatever relative was calling. It was my Uncle Michael, but he was not ringing for a chat. He had been watching the news, and was 99% sure he had just seen our house on the n...

Today I fucked up. Bad. But hilariously. Earlier this week, I was reading an article about the data Facebook stores on it's users. The article goes into detail about how to download it, and then the author reviews the process and talks about the types of data Facebook has on him. It popped up in my LinkedIn feed while I was having my morning coffee at my desk. As I read it, I thought 'how interesting', and proceeded to follow the steps to download my own Facebook data. It was about 1GB, so I waited patiently while it downloaded. I was presented with a zip file, sorted into a variety of folders labelled things like 'pictures' and 'messages'. I started to look through and was curious to delve deeper into what was held in it. I watched a random video file of a board game from Christmas last year, listened to an audio message of my best friend mewing like a cat and quickly scrolled through the thousands of contacts listed. However, my coffee was empty and i...

When I was younger, Mum would occasionally let us pick out a sneaky chocolate at the supermarket. Presumably this was because we were now old enough to know that the free carrots the green grocer used to give us were not actually 'treats'. I do recall that we would sometimes get cocktail frankfurts instead, and that my brain has for some reason chosen to attach the feeling of joy to this memory. I can quite honestly say that the thought of eating frankfurts in adulthood evokes only feelings of anguish. Anyway, I digress. The sneaky chocolate I would choose was a Curly Wurly, whereas Mum would usually always get a White Knight. I remember sitting in the car, old enough to be in the front seat, so probably all of 11 and feeling VERY adult, and asking why they were called White Knights. The actual answer to that question escapes me now, likely something vaguely racist and sexist, but ultimately a discussion ensued about Prince Charming, and tragically, how he isn't real i...

I have long suspected that I have an addictive personality. Analysts at ANZ could probably point to my credit card as a textbook example of someone with a shopping addiction. I spent half of my twenties eschewing any sort of illicit substance, alcohol included, because I recognised the slippery slope of dependency. Now, thanks to a social network, I now have a new addiction. Skincare. Reddit has come and gone from my life many times over the past ten years, mostly for entertainment purposes. It came back again a few months ago when I was looking for advice on a dermatitis breakout and has kind of stuck around again since then. Who would have thought that asking 'does anyone know what this thing on my lip is' would totally change my day to day life, and my bank balance. Prior to my skin attacking my own face, I was the kind of girl who used Dove soap and that was pretty much it. My skin was perfect and I never had a worry. Maybe it's getting older, but I turned 29 and al...

Three week ago I was the picture of health, the fittest I have ever been in my life, quite literally. After a health kick challenge with my best friends I was down 15kg, eating the best I ever had, actually caring about my exercise and sleep routines and generally feeling awesome. Then I got the flu, and it lingered. The kind of flu that stuck around and could not be shaken. The kind that makes you lie apathetically on the couch for days while your housemate fetches you pain killers, water and blankets. A cruel irony that I would be struck down in, what felt like, the prime of my health. After three weeks of resting, recuperating and generally babying my body (lots of vitamins, water, sleep and TLC), I threw caution to the wind and decided to get back into my pre-flu health kick ways. My housemate and I went to a spin class at a swanky new gym in town. Who would've known that would be a big, big mistake. Well, my doctor probably, but she wasn't there. The class was fine, th...