Menopausal Literacy... so hot right now...

Ciao,

Sì, amici miei, io sono fluente in italiano, la lingua dell'amore.

Thanks to apps and the internet... I was pretty much Italian... for about a minute and a half.

You know it seems I save all my innermost crap up these days and blast you all with one annual epic blog.  It's really not going to help me in my goal to make this a full time career right?  Meh... who am I kidding... you guys are too smart, you all know that's just a recipe for me to slop around in my PJ's.  But NO!  

Life is totally different... things have changed... I've LIVED, I've been on an O.E.!  TWICE! I've been single for what seems like freakin' FOREVER.  'Ish.  But miserable I am not... SCORE. Lonely sometimes, questionable libido (we'll leave it at that shall we...) but relatively sane. 

How can a *gulp* middle-aged woman - scratch that - start again...

How can a *gasp* super attractive, sexy, smart, funny, caring middle-aged woman be even partially close to sanity when spinsterhood is a very real prospect?  

Well the answer is: Just coz.

Simple as that.  I have not given up on love, I have not given up on meeting my destined lifelong side-kick one day - in fact I believe in it more now than ever. And you know I'm glad I met who I met, broke from those that tried to break me, fell in, fell out, got pulled in every direction and position known to the universe... because it proves that the fear of being alone, death or insanity is complete horseshit and I should have got over myself eons ago.

So in true Stylz nature... I wouldn't be here if I didn't have something to say... and boy do I have a doozie for you...

You know how I come on here and I ramble and rhyme and make you laugh till your bladder explodes and your face melts, with my musings and brain farts and ridiculous life lessons that truly are lessons and freakin' entertaining... well the scary thing is...I thought I'd dried up. Honest I got really concerned! Spending 50-plus hours a week in a poorly air-conditioned corporate swirl of drama and strategy will do that to a creative. The only flare in my week is how I can make the fruit bowl look like a still-life. 

I DIGRESS - (I must confess... this is the direct result of a recent diagnosis of M.M.V.D. "Multiple-Museum-Visitation-Disorder", picked up innocently while casually travelling in the EU.  As you do when you're like, on your O.E. and shit.  There is no known cure, don't judge me. However it can be contagious when in confined spaces like bus-loads of stupid Americans but easily treatable with pretend crap like Netflix and Apple TV. Nashville you are my guilty secret but how I luff you...) CARRY ON...

The thing is... I have so much material from the last year or so I can't understand how it hasn't poured from me like lava... and I'm talking goood shit... Great in fact... if it wasn't for what I can only describe as not writer's block (that's when you get an advance from a publisher then sit on your arse picking lint hair out of your bellybutton and can't even string a fake sentance together because you're a loser). So no it's more like a change - so much going on in your life and head and heart and you become this fiery vessel of over-sensitized madness and you just cannot cool down long enough to get the words out - Literacy Menopause my friends - it's real and it's killing my craft.   After a while of unintentional suppression, it becomes this big lump... stuck sort of halfway between my esophagus and aorta... like... well kind of like... okay lemme try and explain...

Like a hairball.  A dry, choking, tangle of words and memories and feelings that's jammed up in their refusing to dislodge no matter how much I purge.  You have no idea how many times I have metaphorically shoved my fingers down my throat to spew forth this amazing web of experience I have been carrying around for 15 months and this is my umpteenth attempt so I implore you... stand with me and................hold my hair back... because kids I just found my mojo and she's gonna blow.

So it all started way back when I made the catastrophic decision to 'get a flatmate'.  (I should have just got a dog they are WAYYY easier to deal with and clean up after).  Said flatmate had a wee tradition..."Man Tuesday".  Where smelly boys would gather in some stinky man-cave in the bowels of West Auckland, smoke, drink, scratch, talk shit and drive drunk.

Sounded like fun.

So me and the girls decided on a wee twist and developed the "Chick Chewzday".  It started off all innocent, a glass of wine, doing nails, actually HAVING it on a Tuesday.  Then of course it just evolved.  As men are creatures of habit, women are all over the place.  We like to mix things up... sometimes we don't even DO our nails... we just carry all the nail shit in from the car, precariously balancing the compulsory alcoholic beverage on top and talk about how those said man-habits or lack thereof really piss us off... it's totes awesome.

One night, when we were actually doing our nails, we got off-topic and my friend Rachy says "I'd love to do an OE.  I've always wanted to do an OE."
"Me too."
"Shall we?"
"F*ck it.  Why not."

And that is how it all began... in late May 2014 two OE virgins embarked on 6.5 weeks of cherry-popping-carnage.  17 countries, multiple cities, planes, trains, buses, blisters and bruises.  A rooftop fling, a bellissimo penpal, and many, many delicious and dodgy experiences with amazing people.  It was chick chewzday that lasted a month-and-a-half and man we had a ball.  So much so that when I came back, I was a shadow of my former self (like skinny-as), broke but richer in so many ways.  I felt amazing - confident, kind, happy, content and I did not want to lose that feeling... so while I still had the helium high of travel, a few weeks after I got back I went to an expo and I booked another trip.  I am so bad-ass. 

But alas, despite the excitement of the pending OE-Take-Two and my new found European style... toward the end of the year I kinda lost my way again.  I briefly and sporadically forgot who I was... (well I knew my name and address - barely) but I was gutted - I had spent such a wonderful time actually getting to know the girl inside and liking her that by Christmas it all seemed like some foggy weird version of a Love Actually sequel mashed with a bit of Under the Tuscan Sun, Letters to Juliet, Braveheart and Shirley Valentine.  All I wanted to do was jump that plane and get the fark outta Dodge.  Somehow though, I clung on through the mad season and then suddenly, 2015 hit and despite my reservations and trepidation, it was an entirely different beast and a totally unexpected vibe.

I was OK.  I wasn't broken or damaged.  I had not 'fallen off the self-esteem wagon'. I wasn't an Iron Maiden or a cold hard bitch.  Admittedly I was a bit pissed because the soul cause of the slight bump in my road was actually others haunted by ghosts of Stylz past that figured I HAD fallen off the wagon and tried to aim for the puddles rather than cheer me on to the footpath.  Haha - so fooled you bitches. 

Anyhoo... the first 5 months of the year progressed... but something had shifted.  Yeah I was stoked to be hitting the skies again but the essence of the trip - planned in that helium haze of euphoric self-absorption - wasn't looking as well-thought out as what I had initially desired it to be.  But!  In true kiwi fashion "she'll be right" kicked in and on I went... still excited, still confident, still, like, sticking to the plan... still err 'boxing on'... wooooh, yeah, lookin' forward to it... yep, you betcha.  *gulp*.

Who was I kidding.  I was scared shitless.

The trip essentially was broken into 3 pieces, the beginning and the end bits I was cool with - it was the long 4-week stretch in the middle that had me thinking "what am I doing? Heck I could change this... oh but I'm invested now I have to see it through... no I don't I can do whatever the hell I want! I better do that though aye...".  What a muppet.  Still I DID do it, I stuck to the plan... and I lived it fully every single minute of every single day.

And that was how it went... leading up to departure - and return actually.  It was a roller coaster of senses, emotions and experiences that I will never forget and they will never forget me.  Along with those other thousands of little things that you know will resonate inside your soul for eternity, that make you smile, cringe, gasp, blush and laugh all at once and when you roll them all into one they answer that 64 thousand dollar question heard by all travelers but entirely unanswerable on the spot: "Soooo... what was the highlight!!!"... well.  You asked... :-

1) Window seat - busting to pee.  Bear Grylls couldn't figure his way out of the tangled web of blankets, headphone cables, tray tables, cups of water and large snoring males - but I did.

2) Man-made tranquility - sleepy stopover in Singapore airport... too scared to snooze though in case some dick pinched my stuff.

3) Buying an 'airline approved' carry-on - successfully carrying said carry-on a total of 2 flights.  (Apparently it is only airline approved when the baggage compartments are empty - go figure.)

4) Guilt-free bread and cheese for breakfast.  When in the Netherlands... you shall not be judged.

5) Old friends are like comfy slippers... even though we're old and stinky we just feel so damn good.  New Friends are those slippers you just wanna dirty up and wear in till they're there, all together, in a smelly heap in your closet. Bliss.  I love me some worn-in slippies.

6) Too many Heinekins a cyclist does not make.  But try telling me that... whilst hooning into "Cottingham Corner".

7) "Mamma Mia".  Great icebreaker - it sounds funny to Italians when I say it.  If only they knew the truth.

8) Limoncello - followed closely by espresso and Grappa. After several litres of wine, and maybe just a splash of Prosecco. 

9) Traditional Italian cooking.  Like by a real Italian Mamma, in the south of Italy.  For real.

10) Language Barriers - like with the real Italian Mamma, in the south of Italy.  For real.  And the Papa and the Sister etc, etc.

11) Blue sky, heat, beauty, people, places

12) Sometimes Barcelona has this weird farty smell (no... don't even suggest it you filthy mongrels - its true!...)

13) I heart Firenze.  The 2014 version - the 2015 upgrade sucked.

14) Pizza.  Naples. NOM. In fact FOOD - Naples.  Well... food Southern Italy, end of.

15) Mary, Mother of God.  (forgive me)

16) The golden glow of the street lamps walking through Roma at night... the odd casual wiff of pee...

17) Luke Wilson is really little in real life... apart from the nose.

18) A pool and a pub both in my back yard.  No one giving a crap I'm in a bikini.  Especially me...

19) Cuban cigars - make your hands look small and your face look stupid but they are worth every suck...

20) I am absolute shit at goodbyes.  

21) Burritos rock.

22) The cost of MAC makeup in NZ is friggin' criminal.

23) I put flowers in my hair in San Francisco - plastic ones of course, and where the Kiwi says: "what the fark were you thinking?" the baked Californian says: "Woah, you look so pretty - are you getting married?"  No.  "Okay cool wanna score some weed?"  umm no, but thank you "Okay cool... more for me - times three!! Peace out ladies...".  See? Now THAT's a conversation... 

24) I'm grateful that the Deadheads embraced us - I wish I could return the favor but hey the garlic fries were awesome.  The music never stopped - except for that one time... Peace out. 

25) "Hey man you wanna a beer?  Yeah I'll go... no, its ok I'll go... Hey you don't wanna miss the show its like their last everrrr and the music NEVER stops man... oh yeah... hey, no problem - I'll go during the 2 hour INTERMISSION like the other 65,000 people".  Said the 64,998 Deadheads around us.

26) UBER.  Except that one time...

27) Not only can you wear flowers in your hair and walk the street with feather boas around your neck you can MARRY WHOEVER YOU DAMN WELL WANT!  (if I hashtagged it would be: prideweek - I was there!)

28) No I did NOT see Alcatraz.  Boom!  Go me travellin' all against the grain and shit! Told you - I'm bad-ass.

29) The Haight. 4:20.  Totally educated me.

30) I miss Janis.

31) Sonoma County people have great taste in wine, entertainment and... people.

32) Convertibles, top down, in almost 40 degree heat does not suck.

33) Hot air balloons are freakin amazeballs.  They like float all up in the air and stuff and you can see for miles and miles and milesssss (see 6 days in the states and I've lost all my metric capabilities - not that I had any).

34) Breakfast Burritos

35) I want to go back in 2016 - Shhhhh don't tell anyone - especially not them damn yankee doodles...

36) I actually take some pretty stunning photos if I do say so myself...

Oh and did I tell you I got a puppy? Say Hi to Nix ("Nixy") Cottingham-Stylz



Said stunning photo - Sperlonger in Southern Italy

And me... Well I'm not doing too shabby for me almost mid-40's if I do say so myself... and in a few months... you can call me "Glam-Ma"

Peace out.

Stylz xxx

Soy-ya later...

Hello black-hole of cyber space...

People say talking to yourself is the first sign of madness... actually I think that statement is a bit blip now... I find it rather therapeutic, specifically via this portal... it's like that completely gratifying, blood-curdling scream you let fly in the car when hurtling along the motorway.  Sure, fellow motorists think I must be related to Steven Tyler but (after I've put the window up - bugger) and have another crack I think who gives a shhhh... right? coz it feels friggin' fantastic :-)

Translation: "Shhhh"... an acceptable form of using the international word for crap i.e. SHIT in a non-offensive way, more so apparent in American 'radio edit' versions of pop songs.  Personally I think its absolute bollix and slightly embarrassing because it proves I've obviously listened to said pop songs that influenced it's absolute ridiculous popularity probably more than once... crikey :-O

So yeah... now we've cleared that up, back to talking to myself.... of which I've totally lost track of where I was going with that (I know... nothing's changed!).  I think it was just me having a wee bit of a pity party because I blame myself for losing my blog readership... which didn't really exist anyway but I spiked some interest for a while, almost double figures in fact! And then... well let's be honest, it wasn't that I didn't care, I just got... umm... yeah, lazy.

Actually no... I got busy AND lazy.  Yep I'm "BAZEY"  I think I am the only person in existence that is talented enough to claim the amalgamation of both.  Boom! What is that... a contradiction, an oxymoron or just pure genius?  Look I never thought I'd be the type to be caught up in my day job but geez you know I think I have?!  I was talking to a good friend of mine Bishalicious and we both agreed that we have almost totally sold ourselves to the demon beast that is the 8-5 'er and 24/7 stress witch.

Its funny not only do I actually miss the Stylz that threw herself into plays and auditions and god knows what else and it seems that I'm not alone - amazing and awesome to think that - thanks!  I never worried about how many people came along to shows I was involved in.  I used to feel bad when people apologised profusely for not attending because they were under no obligation as far as I was concerned but when they did I loved it.

I had a think about it and realised I probably now have a window of opportunity to commit to something creative for oooh... a pitiful 3 months of a year... and frankly there just hasn't been anything timely or suitable for me to sink my teeth into! Now coming from a girl who would bust out a coupla shows a year and perhaps a wee bit of something on the telly I am rather disappointed in my efforts!

With a massive year behind me of spouting personal growth and healing I think its about time I sorted this out, right?  Yep I agree.  Blimmin' poor showing Vik.  Watch this space.

Now that we've addressed one of the elephants in the room... let me touch on the subject matter of this post.

SOY.

Okay I've probably just lost the last of you.  But oh I'm going there... yep - read it, or not.

Soy is shhhh...

Probably just redeemed myself there...

Okay so let me explain... to my avid readers you've heard me harp on about the mono-ab and its ability to appear and disappear literally overnight (like most of my past relationships) and I yo-yo diet more than AJ Hacket has hot dinners because inevitably I get 'Bazey'.  Well, I tell ya, did life kick me in me big bazey butt or what.

Yep. I had 'tests'.  I had the "please call the nurse urgently" text message.  And then those words most women in their 30's and comfortable with denial do not want to hear "you do realise you're in your 40's now..."  Aw crap.

No more jokes... I had to make changes.  REAL changes.  That stick and that are not just part of an ongoing animated convo with the girls over a juicy Merlot and some jalapeno tempura or hell pizza (depending on the proximity of payday).  Where its 'all in', you're totally committed, enthusiastic and everything starts "next week!" and the results are... you don't eat for 2 days after out of guilt and let's face it - potentially hungover.  Plus, you don't see the girls for at least 6 months after for two valid reasons, jealousy; there's at least one chick that sorts her shit out and looks fantastic and that just pisses you off no end and, embarrassment; you know you're bigger than the last girls night no matter what you stuff yourself into, how many hours you starve yourself beforehand and how long you can hold your bloody breath while simultaneously sucking your guts in while sitting in too tight jeans.

And then... you get told no more mucking around. Vikki Stylz, This Is (literally) Your Life.  Ooh...faaark.

It took me about 4 weeks before I got the balls to introduce the Soy.  It still sucks, it's freakin' weird, it takes an extra shot to kill the funky 'old sock rinsed in nut-juice' after-taste and it's STILL not even close to a large mocha with 2 marshmallows (skinny milk and no extra sugar though - what's the big deal???) but I have stuck to it and this weekend marks my 8-week anniversary.

Crikey I've even cut down the coffee consumption because there's no way I can drink that weird hippy concoction more than once or twice a week.

Oh how it broke my heart.  I have said goodbye to so many things lately I've kind talked myself into some form of malnutrition affliction who's major symptom is waves of extreme loneliness for various edible crap, like M & Ms. Or cheese. Carbo-loads. Or that illusive trim mocha latte. Or just a friggin luncheon and sauce sammidge for christsake!!!

But unlike my "you look well" dilemma I blogged about pre-doctor's orders... I actually do.  Feel.  Am.

Monoab has wriggled down an impressive number of dress sizes, skin is hydrated, sleep is awesome, glossy healthy hair oh and it would be inappropriate for me to mention movements or motions so I'll avoid that. (Woops...dammit!!!).  And by crikey do I feel  like a sexy 40-somethin' Mama with nice pegs and a teeny little butt.

So trying a healthier lifestyle, for people like me, is a pain in the ass let's face it... but it actually does help.  I'll sustain it as best I can - oh I will totally fall off the wagon... probably every turn, land in the mud and most likely animal poo too but the fact I actually bought the wagon itself as my preferred form of transportation is the main thing.

(Do NOT tell me that you didn't think that analogy rocked...)

Okay so totally workin' my size 10 non-stretchy jeans without a muffin-top and artificial breathing apparatus is awesome...  I couldn't ask for a better life than where I'm at and the rest of the adventures ahead, the lessons learned, the ones to come, the bond of friendship and the embrace of family.  Everything is cool and I'm so okay living in my single world...

But.

Look it may just be worth considering...

I mean... I might just almost be ready... I dunno?  Is their like a pee-stick test I can take to find out if my insides are suitably prepared?

And hey... mull over this "hypothetical" situation - is having a crush on someone you don't even know count or is that just slightly odd and potentially psychotic? Coz that's so not the look I'm going for... if it was me of course, but we're talking hypothetical here... so its not... K? Back-off. Geez, calm the farm.

Finally the 64,000 dollar question - what IS the deal with Tinder?  That so cannot be my only option.

Balls.  Or lack thereof... please read, please comment, its totes a cry for help.  Or a hookup :-)

Stylz - Re-sized and edited for Television and... LIFE ITSELF.

xxx

PS - Drinkin all this soy and harpin' on about gluten-free-this and non-fat-that just wouldn't be right without an Ode to my lovable self... so here it is for your reading pleasure... those that saw it performed at the poetry evening will know that it is MUCH better when in the flesh...as am I... but hey... close your eyes and think of me - well, HALF of me now bitches!!!!!

ODE TO THE MONO-AB

Have you ever had

A love-hate relationship

With a body-part.

The attachment is purely physical

But insanely emotional

You do what you can to ignore it

Then, stupidly, you feed it. Literally.

You scale it, measure it, suck it up, poke at it

Stuff it, squeeze it, crush it,

wrap it in cling film…

(Just once...)

It would work a charm, if sweat glands didn't exist.

You make fun of it, cry over it, admire it, despise it

And yet somehow…love it, because it’s part of YOU.

That’s me and my mono-ab

There can be only one.

The noose around my neck

(Or the tire on my tummy)

All my freakin’ life

Blocked, bloated and bulging or

Shrunken, flabby and gurgling

She’s there…

Just…

Hangin’.

When the mono-ab is under control

Wearing jeans and breathing simultaneously – rocks.

When not and your fly explodes in public – not so much.

A trapped bulbous mass, crushed in half

is a fleshy pressure-cooker

The zip has no chance.

Frantic crotch grappling is a reality, when you’re a chubba-chup.

And not in a good way.

It's nice at the end of the day – to peel the jeans off

And not look like you've been hacked to pieces, and survived.

Or, you’re limbs have been sewn on, by Frankenstein

I have no right to cram poor mono-ab into such a confined space

Its belly abuse – the naval protests…

What naval?

I have a naval?  Ssstop it…

I’ll Google-map it later…

Camel toe… Is. Not. Good.

Just putting it out there

Or NOT.

Mono-ab thinks its fricken hilarious

It isn't.

You don’t purchase fashion for the mono-ab

You pray for an illusion

Or an app

Called “Hide the Life Preserver”.

There are so many positives…

When a mono-ab lay dormant… for instance

It's nice to put back fat behind me.

oh come on that was GOLD

You see, a supportive bra, above a cooperative mono-ab

unlike the mono-gremlins

does not multiply 14 pairs of nipple-less breasts

unless you feed it after midnight

And… it’s nice to wear undies that do not require retrieval

with a drill bit and a mining crew.

Although that does sound like fun…

In saying that – all credit to the mono-ab,

it has always been considerate

It never stood in the way of any ‘exploratory expedition’

Well… not intentionally.

 However, mono-ab...

We've been close over the years, 

we've had good times and bad,

but I shall never forgive you for getting in the way

of my talents to give myself…

A phenomenal pedicure.

Among other things.

You know… obsession is good for the mono-ab.

Desire your way to thin…

Perv away the pounds…

Who needs to breathe when you have a crush?

Suck that puppy in 24-7

If you turn purple…apply more makeup

Amazing results, very little effort

I see the makings of a best-selling series of

self-help pamphlets:

"Free from fat through fantasy: A chubber's guide”

“Obsessive Compulsive Mono-ab”

“Mono-ab for Dummies”

"Mono-ab Anonymous is for Anorexics"

"Camel-toe – Just Say NO"

"Defining your obsessive boundaries around your mono-ab"

"Beware the fake obsession - Mono-ab Sabotage"

"When mono-abs go bad"

"Falling off the wagon..."

(Followed closely by the sequel…)

"Losing the wagon IN your mono-ab"

“Love me, LOVE.. MY.. MONO-AB”

and finally…

"Thin, but slightly bonkers... who cares, I'm thin"

© Vikki Cottingham 2013

Life Lift. Don't I look WELL!!!

Raro-Glow October 2013

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

How do you like the look of my new fancy schmancy blog then? Pretty ain't it...

Okay,okay, alright, alright... I know what all (one) of you is thinking; "Happy New Year? Happy NEW YEAR - bloody rich coming from you missy who left us in the lurch since April two-thousand and fricken THIRTEEN!!!

I have been overwhelmed (okay twice) with requests for new posts – apparently some of you sneaky peekies think I’m funny. Right – cheers, no pressure!

Look I’m just gonna be straight with you all… it has been quite a year… no I haven’t had a boob job, tummy tuck, botox, colonic, hip replacement, more babies OR a toy-boy footing the bills and cooking BUT… I have had a “LIFE LIFT”.

(Life-Lift –ooh-err…That literally just came to me. I am awesome. I should patent it before someone thicker than me but more photogenic runs with it and makes a bajillion bucks in 27 minutes. A-holes.)

Anyhoo I digress (nothing has changed in that respect). Yes I have successfully lifted my fantastic life out of the crapper and into the light for the first time in about 3 decades… not pretend either – for real.

Although I’m now forty-ish with the attitude of a 20-ish but the intellect and maturity of a fricken amazingly hot, proud, Westie (ageless) mama… I feel completely in perspective.

There’s something empowering about embracing your perfect imperfections (not mine that one unfortunately but I do like it). The frame of mind is clearer, chest is relaxed, sleep is undisturbed, the twinkle is true, the laughter from the belly, a bounce in the step and it’s a bloody nice place to be.

And people have noticed.

“You’re looking…well…”

Crikey. Did I look that sick before? Is it just my tan because brown fat looks “more well” than white? I thought when people said “you look well” they are, in the nicest most passive-aggressive way referring to you being slightly on the flubber side of fabulous. Junky trunky… wobbly bits, more bumps and humps than Atkinson Road but brown so ‘totes confusing?’ to the superficial eye.

Or… (and this is MY preference) does my positivity emanate so bright that it strikes them dumb (or dumber), like a full-on angelic halo where they just cannot find their tongue from their toes. I’ve never been described as beautiful really – not in a supermodel, playboy, blow-your-mind-as-well-as-your-paycheck-amongst-other-things sense anyway. ‘Cute’ maybe at best…So my best guess is that I am literally now blinding people senseless with a radiation of awesomeness and inner beauty. Yes. Yes I like it… it certainly takes the taint off the “you look well” comments… “Why thank you!! I AM!!”

So…for you voyeuristic sickos… my year in review – condensed and edited for television naturally 

1) Whooping cough epidemics contracted – ONE

2) Embarrassing bodily dysfunctions whilst suffering whooping cough – NO COMMENT

3) Trips to Hawaii – ONE

4) Whale-watching experience of a lifetime – ONE

5) Moments serenading Humpback whales with voice unlike that of Kiri Te Kanawa - ONE

6) Wheelchair rides off international flight due to flu caught IN Hawaii – ONE

7) Valentine’s Day 2013 fail – ONE

8) Breakups that changed my life – ONE

9) Dating too soon fail – ONE

10) Poetry reading success – ONE

11) 40-hour Film Fest - ONE

12) Trips to Rarotonga – ONE

13) Rides on big block trikes – ONE

14) OE Trips confirmed and paid for – ONE

15) Christmas Grinch successfully annihilated – ONE

16) Not-my-finest-moment-moments – TWO

17) Positive outcomes from said not-my-finest-moment-moments – TWO PLUS LICORICE ALL-SORTS

18) Mono-ab – ONE (refer previous posts if you are a newbie to Planet-Vik)

19) Christmas pressie ideas nailed – MULTIPLE

20) Wicked R and R over Christmas weeks – almost THREE

21) Positive vs Negative thoughts – OH THOUSANDS

22) “You look well” comments – WHO CARES

23) Menopausal onset freakouts – NONE! SOME... A LITTLE BIT... MAYBE... OR NOT... *FLUSH*

24) Suspicious menopausal hairs appearing on chin – ONE (but I got the lil f*cker)

25) Special people blessings – infinity plus ONE

26) Blogs completed – ZERO. Fail.

27) ENGAGEMENTS!!!!.........................

None.

Made you look - hehehehe

I won’t leave it so long next time I promise… I have some spectacular shit to share so please, watch this space, tell your friends and remember:

If you can’t be good – be quiet!

Oh and Hippy Burpday Mum xxx

Confessions of a Chubba-chup

It came back.

Well can't say I didn't help it just a little.  Okay - A LOT.

REVENGE OF THE M O N O A B

*shudder*

Several dozen Corona a week can do that to ya.

Those dedicated blogees around in oooh 08/09 ish will remember this... the tears, the turmoil, the triumph... how oh HOW could it have gone so horribly wrong? 

Holy shitballs... I've figured it out (again)... same shit - different explanation... it is the attack of the muliple C'Z

Codys.  Yes, yes you may be right...

Chocolate.  Uh-huh that too I agree, yup, yup...

Couch.  Oh shit yes, absolutely paramount part played. 

Corona's.  Oh.  So, sooo many Coronas... blerrk!  (Ever noticed how they smell like wacky backy after a few doz?  Hmmm, curiouser and curiouser)

Crying.

Crap.

Ciggies. 

The final three kinda speak for themselves really except the last was replaced with the first 5.  Ace plan.  Not.

There is no clinical terminology for it, booze-hagatosis? Piggywiggy-itis? Lazy-arse-adocious?  Hmm these do spring to mind but thats a bit playground harsh really - you and I both know they are not actually medical terms.  Sounds more like a song from that little known musical "Merrily Poppin'" called "You can't fly, ho, you're in rehab, hallucinating".

Truth of the matter is that I let myself go. Mass disappointment :-(

SO the process begins again... FFS!! (google it).  This time there is a support network though and I'm probably doing things the right way rather than surviving on a powdered promise that kinda tastes like a strawberry quik when there is only about 4 granules left in the tin - yeah quick but not 'berry' nice :-) ha ha ha.  Right.

The monoab's been a totally different obstacle this time around I must say - a rather clever monster - not unlike 'The Blob' actually.  I'm serious... it was...darker, sneakier. Its capacity - massive, its hunger - insatiable and a sinister thirst that was unquenchable.

It started off easily tuckable into various freaky, stretchy, stomach-holding-in aparatai...and it worked quite nicely at hiding the slowly spreading muffin manifesting within. Of course then, in what seemed like 'overnight' the inevitable and humiliating "TRIPLE S" occurred.

SPLIT SAUSAGE SCENARIO.

All I can say is 'be careful what you tuck in, for fear of what may pop out'.

At times I resembled an overfilled icing bag.  I had bulbous protrusions from my armpits, shoulders, hips and a brand new bum situated on the front of my thighs.  What the...? Not to mention my famous additional nipple-less breasts growing on my lower back.  Thank god I never got that tramp-stamp I planned... bloody thing would look like a 2-year-old's squiggly line on terrain that rugged.

Oh I felt bad about myself... I had to get a bit of a rock-on to heave myself off the couch...it hurt to sleep on my side - legs committing GBH by just lying on each other.  My hips felt like they were in a pressure vice and if I lay on my arm... it took at least an hour each morning to wake the damn thing up... makes the usual female pre-work prep, polish and preen ritual a bit challenging when you've only got ONE FRICKIN ARM! 

I also had to purchase... *gulp* leggings AND jeggings.  Real jeans were a distant memory - if I wanted to breathe and perform bodily functions like normal people. 

Every piece of underwear I owned felt like bloody bondage gear. 

I huffed and puffed and blew my way round.  Even my brief career at football wasn't the silver lining I hoped for... I was better at the bar than the ball.  (I know - no surprises there)

I kind of resigned myself to the sadistic self-loathing attitude of "oh well, I'm over 40, maybe this is ME from now on". 

But fark that jelly.  I decided that if monoab was gonna play dirty - so was I.  

I ditched the piss.  It really isn't great for any part of me anyway... who wants to be a sad nutcase, drunken, fat cow?  "Not I" - said the pig :-)

Although this mighty huge step made a significant difference in my brain activity, unfortunately the damage had already been done further south...and this was only one part of my wayward lifestyle.

Okay... so I listed what I love:

Chippies
Choccy
Bread
Pasta
Bickies
A fucking awesome burger.

Hmmm... does ANYONE want to address the obvious 'elephant' in the room.  No?  Okay I will then...

"Stylz... you're freakin diet sucks."

Yeah no shit.

"And get off the frickin couch..."

Grunt.

For months now I'd been really good at one thing when it came to food - I was actually having breakfast, every day - well every WORK day at least.  After that I was pounding vitamins like balls of crack.  All the goodies... EPO (for chick shit), Fish Oil (odourless of course, we girls have enough issues thanks very much), B Stress (so you WON'T B Stressed), Probiotics for the pooper, Slippery Elm to assist, Magnesium at night for nervous system, Adrenal support in the morning for that extra mental kick but balance out the mental bashings.

I'm the only woman I know that can swallow 8 tablets at once.  Told you I could eat.

So I figured I had two steps already nailed - brekkie and vitamins.  Next step - water intake.

Whether we like it or not... if its Atkins, Jenny, Tony, Dukan, Can Can, Lemon, Slimmers or whatever diet fad you've got your freak on, every single one of them tells you to up the H2O.  And EVERY TIME I DO I LOSE WEIGHT.  So simple.  So freakin annoying.

Since it was winter I started drinking hot water - more cost effective than my previous aqua of choice 'bubbly water' and pleasant.  Of course though you've barely wiped your hooha before you're busting again.  A friend of mine's husband told her she was "pressure cleaning" the toilet with the amount of fluid she's flushing through their ensuite on a daily basis. 

Yeah I pee.  A lot.  But I can now multitask - I bend over to shave my legs - while breathing.  Winner. 

So I've got the water happening, the vitamins, the most important meal of the day covered, a bit of a detox programme in the evenings so now its the dreaded INBETWEENERS.

Lunch and Dinner.

A favorite pasttime of mine was to starve all day... maybe have a kit kat at about 3pm (nom, nom, nom), then go home, sugar crash, then eat continuously until about 10pm or until I ran out of food.  No wonder my bedroom was a noxious gas chamber. 

I removed all quick fixes from the pantry, throw some hippy food into a container each day and take it to work where I survive on the crunchy freshness of whatever salad/vege concoction I create.  Then at home I make something resembling a healthy tea at night.  And I'm getting pretty good at both.

Pretty soon, it was obvious the 15 missing bickies each night was actually making a difference.  A slow decline... but a decline indeed.  Slow and steady wins the race - a proven fact by the tortoise thank you very much all you "except for that black dude in the olympics" smarty-pantsies.

6 weeks has passed I have formed a wee pattern of better living in my life - not strictly depriving myself of the odd treat - bit of cheese in the old omlete or a bite of  Mr Chemicals's yummy something (I'm referring to FOOD).  And I've changed shape significantly.  Not a huge plunge in weight - I didn't want something unsustainable like last time - but a little drop, day by day, week by week.  Mind you, when all your eating is lettuce which is mostly water and you're pissing like a racehorse then the law of averages suggests you may shrink a tad.

Next little hurdle... find that big scary machine buried somewhere under the drop sheets and paint cans scattered in the spare room. Ah... there it is!!... Not frightening at all when you drag it out into the living room so you can run AND watch the telly!  Woohoo! I do not know why I didn't think of that the first time I bought the damn thing.  Who cares if it doesn't 'go' with anything - I got no matching shit anyway and with it sitting out there all big and threatening in the corner, staring me down when I'm playing my daily 'can I really be arsed' game of self doubt... at least I can't hide it away and pretend it doesn't exist... kind of what I used to do to myself really :-)

So it seems this new twist on a very old Vik may be working.  Again.  Well... it always DID work... I just couldn't be arsed paying the wages...

Oh christ I've gotta go... I've blabbed on for far too long and I need to gaddam pee again.

Peace and love for monoabs...

Yeah right.

Lots of squdges (bony ones)

Stylz

xoxox

My Bucket Runnith Over...

I am in an AWESOME mood!


Hmmm… you know midway into summer when you down tools around the house one weekend and maybe decide to go for a wee drive along the stunning Noo Zuland coastline? You zoom around the winding roads with the windows down, your hair blowing around like a Beyonce video wind-machine-special and singing your favorite tunes loud enough to piss even the seagulls off….

During your wee soulful sabbatical through the rural farmlands and coastal communities you come across ‘honesty boxes’. Little fruit and grocery sheds next to mailboxes along the highways, with some of the brightest, biggest and juiciest fruit and veg lovingly bagged for your convenience and just a wooden money box there to donate something in exchange for getting 4 x times the size of your regular 5 plus a day at a fraction of the cost…

This is where you find the best fruit ever. Always juicy, never sour and definitely without that ‘freshly thawed’ glassy tasteless flesh. Ohh yes… roadside fruit is the bomb-diggity baby. My fav is finding the TRUE New Zealand black grape… the ones that you used to pinch from the neighbors’ backyard vine when you were a kid… thick black skin… pale green centre and the sweetest taste in the world… a real rarity in Aucks now and some overpriced Californian bland substitute cheats you into a disappointing purchase if you’re not prepared to venture further afield.

Bear with me… this is goin’ somewhere I promise…

Best peaches and nectarines in the world along the roadsides of Aotearoa… perfect texture, not too soft not too hard and a pure taste sensation when you bit into them and the juice runs down your chin… it’s just magical and soooo satisfying.

That’s where I’m at right now… my life is the first bite of a freshly harvested summer peach…

When it came to “Life Begins at 40” I was pretty skeptical – probably because 40 started with a guts-ache and a crap rather than the funfair ‘hiss and a roar’. I’d like to forget my 40th birthday for a lot of reasons not associated with age. I have survived the first 9 months of 40 – 5 of which were pretty fricken weird like I was functioning by remote control externally. I held my emotions inside like I was wound tightly with a rope and all the while feeling like I was trying to hold in a massive fart or sneeze of emotion or something.

There would be times when I barely made it home and inside the house before I’d collapse in a heap. Wishing I could just close my eyes and feel at peace. Shut down the voices in my brain and release the rope from my chest.

And cry. Oh man did I cry. Which is good but when it started it was nearly impossible to stop… I had a buggered washer in my waterworks that’s for sure!

But now… as I take a swing around to look at the path I’ve just trampled through I am pretty darn excited with where I am right now…

My life is the first bite of a freshly harvested summer peach… and it feels bloody good inside and out.

I can accredit this peachy time to so many positive influences and people in my life… my love, my family, my friends, my work colleagues, The Big reTHiNK and all the great people I worked with on it and all the wonderful stories that were busted out to the universe for the very first time ever… yeah I have a lot to be thankful for… mostly me really.

For being brave, for listening to my heart and following it, for finding my inner peace and acknowledging how good it is to be me.

To carry on the trend of goodness, it’s “Pink for a Day” today supporting the NZ Breast Cancer Foundation and I think I’m the first person in my 8-5 history that has ever had the balls to wear a bright pink wig and a tiara into a male-dominated environment. Gotta admit though, the blokes have impressed me today… most wearing something resembling the closest and most manly form of pink they can stomach :-)

To add to the frivolity I made a batch of pink chocolate chip cookies last night that came out pretty darn good if I do say so myself… gave a handful to my coffee lady who freaked out at my pink wig hehehe. So what a change aye? I hardly recognize myself… I’m at home cooking and baking my arse off not out drinking and rooting my brains out hehehe – do I miss it? Not on your nelly. Do I regret it? Not one second. Well perhaps that one time... :-)

Not only THAT, but today my successes have also reached a financial win-fall seeing me bursting out of a sleepless toss of budgetary stress that threatened my beauty rest AND my wallet. So… I really can’t see any downside to this situation?

Holy Shitballs. Am I finally believing in myself?

Off to buy a lotto peeps!! Yep… IN MY PINK WIG!!

Woohoo…!!!

Lots of luff and squdges…

(Pretty in Pink)

Stylz

xoxox

One Moment in Time... When I'm More Than I Thought I Could Be...

The Big reTHiNK 2012 - Best Director, Vikki Cottingham "Mad O Phobic"

A bit of a 'toilet tribute' from my fantastic cast...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n1Y5YdZTAL0

Full blog of blubbering to follow... but I'm a wee bit lost for words right now... it's a bit hard to talk through this shit-eating grin that is a permanent fixture... pig in poo people, Pig. In. Poo. :-)

Okay I've calmed down now... well no not really hehehe... aww mann!  What an awesome way to ice an already sa-weeet tasting cake!!  I humbly and honestly thought that this would go to another person on the night... and I'm almost positive I wouldn't attempt a 'poke, snatch and run' ... almost... :-) 

But they called MY name. 

A little westie nuthin' much from suburban Glum Eden won a people's choice award for a job that most don't really understand and that had nothing to do with "AM-DRAM" but a professional production with a phenomenal message performed in DOWNTOWN AUCKLAND at the stunning Q Theatre.  Far out that is quite trippy when I type it out loud :-)

I tried to accept the award on the night with poise, elegance and grace but in true Westie style I squealed like a banshee and then promptly started leaking out my eyeballs and nose and exclaimed loudly into the mic "holy shitballs!"... dammit. 

I couldn't help it... this meant so MUCH to me... and I don't mean just the beautiful hand made sculpture trophy (which is amazing), or the shiny gold badge that has my name (even spelled correctly) on it... but this WHOLE EXPERIENCE.  From the moment I typed "Okay I'll do it" to 3.30am last Sunday morning when I said goodbye to the final few left standing of my new friends this has been the best experience of my life. I get still get this teary, well of massive achievement inside when I think about the last 6 weeks and what was accomplished by so many people from so many backgrounds and walks of life.

It had everything...passion, commitment, empathy, hilarity, comradory, professionalism, support, talent, uniqueness, dedication, belief, pride and an immense amount of love and positivity and every single person involved in it or watching it felt exactly the same and part of it.  It was a truly amazing show. 

So now its time to fall back into normality (hahaha - inside joke) and back into the daily routine and beejesus its pissing me off!!

After feeling so good about everything and it also being Mental Health Awareness Week AND Awareness Day today... I felt a bit lost.  Almost like I needed a big cuddle from all my reTHiNK friends again.  The 8-5 is SUCH a drag.

Let me try and explain a bit of my post-production emotional turmoil...

Lets see... well, its like wearning a comfy outfit that you feel totally sexy and secure in and then being forced to put on an ugly school uniform that make you feel fat and insignificant... you know you HAVE to wear it...it just doesn't fit.  I work to live - that's my uniform. Don't get me too wrong, at the 8-5 its cool and there's heaps of neat people, great mentors, challenges and mostly fun stuff to do and I enjoy it... but I long to wear my comfy clothes most of the time, heck all of the time! Or, even just a little bit of the time... I just wish it was possible :-)

Its also a bit of a self esteem thing... I've been high as a kite on excitment adrenalin for over a month and almost kaliedoscopic all of last week so theres' got to be some kind of a come down... a withdrawal.  Its just such a shame because I felt such joy and absolutely confidence.  In who I am, what I can do, my heart and my mind... I wish I could have bottled the feeling, honestly it was wonderful.

But that's all part of MY personal challenges... and I take too much general human ignorance to heart :-)

So I must accentuate the positive!... What did I do for Mental Health Awareness day to make someone happy and smile?  Well I cooked a yummy dinner last night... first attempt at Chicken Chow Mein from scratch, then baked a Carrot Cake - again a virgin experience - and shared them both... no one died (hehehe) :-)

Everyday I stop at the same coffee cart parked at the Church on Donovan St in Blockhouse Bay and Mikayla, the barista who makes the BEST trim mocha's in West Auckland, is there, rain or shine, greeting every customer with a smile, a free coffee now and then and even free brownies for her regulars just because she appreciates their business.

Mikayla is from Romania, her husband is a chef currenlty dabbling in DIY and they have two small children and they are the nicest people in the world.  Lately Mikayla has felt a little down, not sure of why and has shared how upsetting it is for her.  Maybe it is the pressure of saving for their trip back to Romania later this year, having to leave their home, the children's school and friends or just that thanks to hubby her kitchen pantry exists in her wardrobe - that would bum any girl out :-)

I remember a few of my darker days where just her smile and "how are you beautiful lady" would bring tears to my eyes and she'd come over to the car window and rub my arm reassuringly.  I don't know why I felt it was okay to show my feelings to her but her warmth and sincerity just comes across so effortlessly.

So today, in giving back to the energies of karma I took Mikayla a piece of my carrot cake.  It had rolled around in the container a bit... smooshing the icing all over the place which blew my MKR-style presentation... but she accepted it with great joy (like I'd handed her... oooh an 'award' or something!) and exclaimed:

"Oh 'fank you!!!  Caallot Cake is my favorilit and I did not eat-a bleakfast today so I gonna eat it now!!!!  Oh vat is so luffly of you!!!" - yep... just the same as when I gave her my shopping stickers for free glasses - immense, genuine joy.

Cool aye?  Two strangers... both see each other for a maximum of 5 minutes on weekdays... both shared pain and joy.... coffee and cake :-)

Hope you get heaps of hugs today and you have a happy heart tomorrow :-)

Lots of squdges

[The AWARD WINNING...]

Stylz

xoxoxoxox

Reflections before reTHiNK…

I am in THE BEST MOOD EVERRRRRR!!!!

It is a week out from dress rehearsal for The Big reTHiNK…Hey! I hope you’ve booked… you better or you are gonna miss out! www.qtheatre.co.nz – GO! Do it now and THEN come back and read the rest of the blog – OK? Good. Don’t make me come over there…

So…we open next WEDNESDAY October 3 would you believe and aw man I am having an absolute BLAST!! We had great fun taking some cast photos on Sunday, we were goofing around and having a few laughs with each other while striking ridiculous poses. Then it was down to the business end of the day – rehearsal with the actual set furniture designed and built specifically for this show… interestingly LARGER than our rehearsal furniture but you think it phased the brilliant cast of ‘Mad o Phobic’? Nope. Not a sausage. Took to it like a wee duck to water. Like they had used it all along. Good kids - Mama’s stoked 

It’s a beautiful thing working on a very short but very original play... you have more time to experience the fact that audiences, actors and even the writer themselves don’t have some other version done at another theatre six months ago to compare it too. Haha – score! And who knows where it will go to from here.. The Dophin? Howick Little? Titirangi. The Basement perhaps or even Silo? It may travel… Court Theatre, Downstage, Circa? Who knows. West End maybe or oooh BROADWAY! And a Tony win for the musical adaptation to top it off. The possibilities are endless with a brand new play.

I PROUDLY come from a background in community drama… “AM-DRAM” as the ‘air-kissers’ refer to it and I am living proof that it is one of the best places to develop your craft. Not only in performance; but in professionalism. It is where the unwritten theatre etiquette is passed down through member to member, ghost stories are swapped, tales are told, memories gathered and suburban theatre legends are respected and revered.

These lessons I picked up as a 13-year-old novice performer with a desire to win an Oscar are so prominently featured during my journey to The Big reTHiNK show than ever before. So much is filtering in through my memory. Like performance advice from many different directors, feeling the energies, the encouragement, the depth and thought they put into every character and every aspect of the story. It blew my mind watching everything come together and it still does – every time.

I would see my extremely talented Mum create a pre-revolution French ensemble from scratch, worthy of an Academy Award, in our little kitchen out of yards of fabric cutoffs. I’d watch in fascination teams of volunteers’ - hammers in hand - building, molding, lifting, shaping, transforming a tiny stage into a completely different world.

The artistic flare of those gifted with a brush that spent hours into the night painting a deeper illusion into our make believe world, their backdrops and set enhancements taking audiences on a journey- back in time, forward in time, into different rooms, countries, forests, views, intimate moments and breath-taking storytelling. During this process of evolution you are surrounded by art and creativity whether you are ‘on the boards’ or not. Volunteers, friends, partners, neighbors, siblings, all driven by respect and an immense love for what they do.

Back in the days of manual lighting changes, portable tape decks for music and sound effects, stage managers that ran around cueing silently by theatre sign language and twenty actors all puffing on ciggies in the tea room at half time dissecting the audience technology and tact may have evolved but the actor’s half-time performance and crowd breakdown remains unchanged like generations before.

I remember clearly at final dress rehearsals the looks of pride in the bloodshot tired eyes of the crew … the Director with a hint of a tear and wobble of emotion as they formally hand the reins over to the Stage Manager. The buzz of opening night, the surprises that come with every performance, the friendships, the dramas and the many MANY fantastic cast parties on closing night.

This was my childhood, my escape, my pastime, my passion, my playground. It still is. Over 25 years of magical experiences, people and amazing storytellers. And here I am watching the magic unfold once again with The Big reTHiNK. Different theatre, different faces, same glow, same love – brilliant stories.

For the cast of ‘Mad o Phobic’ or “My Phobies” (including our awesome writer Lynz Wilmshurst and our wonderful PA Rachael Brough) I am so incredibly proud of them. They have had a challenging road that they hit with massive determination, commitment and passion. It is my hope that during this journey, all 8 of these amazing artists have gained a world of experience and come away with a huge sense of accomplishment. They have also taught ME a great deal in just a few short weeks – my teary eyes and wobbly voice will no doubt give that away.

Amazing. Just look at what a small team of people can do together when they play make believe and believe in making a play. In eight minutes.

See you all at Q Theatre :-)

Vikki xx