Fifty Two to 30

Tbh, I’m running out of blog ideas that don’t revolve around my inability to have healthy relationships with men, or alcohol, so I’m turning to other bloggers for ideas, and this one seemed low effort… so here goes. Sunday I have two variations of weekend outfit, jeans and cute top, or jeans and plain top. It doesn’t really vary much from there, and who doesn’t love jeans? This outfit is interesting because it spans almost a decade of my fashion choices. The newest piece, the shirt, was bought in Myer just a few weeks ago, the jeans about three years ago in City Chic and the cardigan in Target more than nine years ago. How’s that for a sustainable wardrobe? Although... this photo is in the K-Mart change rooms, not exactly a hallmark of sustainability.  Monday This dress is a new purchase, bought on a whim, on sale, without even trying it on. It’s a Trent Nathan wrap dress, and in theme with my new obsession navy and white polka dots. There are three other dress...

When I was 18, my parents moved away. I was determined to be independent and stayed behind. This lead to me not attending university and instead pursuing the capitalist dream of funding my own lavish (aka drunken) lifestyle. A few years ago I realised that to get ahead in my career, I was probably going to need some kind of arbitrary piece of paper that says I can do shit, to prove that I can in fact do shit. So, off I went to find out about university. Enrolling was easy enough, but once the subjects started the real fun began. There’s text books to buy, literal thousands of dollars to hand over to the provider, weird computer programs to download and online portals to navigate. If you’re disorganised enough to have your subjects facilitated by different universities, then you have to do all of that twice but slightly different each time. Just enough to be really fucking annoying. Once you figure out how navigate through all the conflicting instructions and message board pos...

Ahh, the patriarch. That ever present social construct where men hold and wield the power, and fuck you with it in ever new and surprising ways. When I say this post is 'The Patriarch Fucks Us All Part II', this story is really much more 'the patriarch fucked me'. Literally and figuratively. Being a feminist and dating online is hard. I seem to spend a lot of time explaining to well meaning dudes what feminism is, why they can't joke about making sandwiches and that yes, yes I am confident about the way I look, thank you very much. Every now and again though, a man comes along and seems like they get it, and may even declare themselves to be a feminist. If you're one of my four regular readers (hi, guys!) you'll remember this piece , the original 'patriarch fucks us all' rant, where incensed by the actions of Barnaby Joyce I tell the story of the boys club, and it 'being ok' for men to act one way and women another when it comes to the wo...