Fun Woman Sex Mother

An Attitude of Gratitude is essential for the Goddess Self Respect Project.

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Philosophical Parenting: Getting the Question right.

I freakin’ love children.  They have this innate ability to get so freaky obscure, profoundly deep or just ridiculously banal. Today I was in a very long drawn out negotiation with my 6 year old son, attempting to get him to help me in the garden for half an hour, with a big, but easy task.

We had our terms of trade – labour for ‘TV time’.  I was just laying down a bit of philosophy, preempting that 5 minutes into the task, he was gonna get pretty bored.

Me: “Do you know the difference between an experience being Fine, and an experience being Boring?”

Son: “ Um, nahp.” 

Me:  “It is the way that you think about it!”

Son pauses, then eyes open wide: “Cool!”

Son gives thoughtful look:  Can you say it again?”

Me: “Ok. Do you know the difference between an experience being Fine and an experience being Boring?”

… It’s the waaaaay that you thiiiink about it.” 

A long “Ohhhhhhhhhhh!”  From son.

“Yeh, yeh” he starts to interject.

Me: “Yes, like the two ways of going up a hill.”

Here, I start, trying to refer to an existential lesson from earlier in the week regarding Stuart Wilde’s explanation of the difference between ‘Effort’ and ‘Struggle’.)*  But he interrupts me, in all seriousness. 

Son:  “Yeh but, Mum?”  He obviously has an important question!

Me:   “Yes, Darling?

Son:   “Yeh. But, why do ‘Pee’ and ‘Poo’ both start with the same letter?”

Checkmate.  He wins.


*Note:  Stuart Wilde explains the difference between ‘Effort’ and ‘Struggle’. He says that a lot of things we want to do take effort. But the difference between putting in Effort and Struggle is the difference between having a good time of it, and having a bad time of it and having to do it anyway.
That is to say: Effort plus resistance  (or negative emotion) equals struggle. 


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Everyday Food: Anytime Whole Food Cookies. Takes about 5 minutes to prepare.

Im feeling benevolent.  Here’s my really simple recipe for whole food cookies.  They are tasty, real quick to prep and bake and are totally healthy.



Fun Woman’s Anytime Whole Food Cookies.

2 Organic Bananas (use mashed apple or pear instead – but not too wet)
2/3 cup of dry ingredients, such as grounds Oats, (I grind mine in a coffee grinder), I may fill a 2/3 cup with a mix of ground oats, ground coconut, ground flax, psyllium, or almond meal
Optional: 3 mashed medjool dates for sweetness (soak em til they become soft, then mash em up and add)
1/2 cup Currents or/and some crushed nuts and/or seeds
Add about 1 tsp Spices (ground cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg for example)
Add a smile from your heart (awww…goodness). If you can’t manage that, add a smirk from your smugness that you’re making badass healthy cookies).

Mash banana, add oatmeal/dry stuff and mix. Add the fruit, nuts and spices and mix. When you are adding your ingredients, you want a mix that is not wet and sloppy. It doesn’t have to be stiff either.

Cook in oven 150C degrees (300F) for 15-18 mins. If you’re a raw foodie, dehydrate them instead.

Let em cool a bit (they firm up).  Eat em, or store em – they last better in the fridge…but let’s face it, they won’t last.

Makes around 6 cookies.

Make different combo’s.

Substitute the banana with mashed, cooked pear or apples.

I’ve done:
Banana, coconut and cinnamon,
Pear and Ginger
Apple, Date and spices
Nuts and Sultana


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Under Arm Hair: A time of growth

I’ve decided to re-grow out my armpit hair. That’s right. Grow it. Grow the full crop.

I mean it’s happening anyway. I neglected attending to attend to it for a few weeks recently and it got ‘outta hand’. So I thought I’d just wax it.  My waxing lady is hilarious. I can not fault her work.  She corrects me when I say ‘arm pits’. It is ‘Under Arm’. We don’t mention ‘pits’.  It’s inelegant.

Anyway, I usually have my body hair tamed but at the moment, I’m feeling like an uprising. I mean, ‘Tamed’. ‘TAMED!’  Argh! My inner 20 year old is pissed at this.

By the time I hit about 20 years old, I had looked with penetration at what makes a woman valuable in this world and had noticed that looks and youth have a great deal to do with it. And, although I fitted the value system, that made me mad.  

When I was 20 years old, studying at University, I found my preferred peers. They were a highly affectionate, funny, gentle, uplifting, intelligent and super fun gaggle of young lesbians (in the main). They had hairy armpits. It was a political statement.

When I think about it now, they would surely kick my ass for calling them a gaggle. I think they’d prefer a ‘murder’ or at least a swarm, troop, grist, rabble, pod or, something. No! I’ve got it! In honour of our ‘radical’ reclamation activities, honouring menstruation, we were a Rag of Lesbians! (And some men-fucking ‘Queers’ like me. Some energetic gay boys and awesome women-loving fellas.)

Oh university in the 90s. Le sigh…wow. It was great. I remember, at the ripe age of 18, I had been out of home for a year, was living in downtown Fitzroy, paying $52 a week rent, being shown into radical bookshops and poetry halls, and covert speakeasies where women, naked or otherwise spoke great inspiring words that rocketed my mind capsule out of the suburbs and transported me to realms of courage and juice that I had only dreamed the glimmers of at high school.

During this time I saw some deliciously subversive body hair creations. The girl on the tram at orientation, changed my life. She was hanging on to the rail: her full hairy copse, dyed as green as a spring meadow. Then there was the Girl who had shaved horizontal stripes down her lower legs: nice job! Strange effect, but you know, Respect!


It was liberating.

Thus, I have never since been interested in what uptight men and women have opined in vox pop street polls on under arm hair. I mean, who cares? Whatevs!

AND, OMG, There is currently an international action trying to get on it’s feet called Armpits4August! Oh, bless.

So, now, I’m 40 and I really do love the silky smooth (and social acceptable) bald-ass underarm but from time-to-time I mix it up. No one who loves me minds – although we’ll see.  Frankly I feel so tender about allowing the soft furry kitten of my pit-ling to visit again after all these years. A subtle sensuous act of reclamation.

I feel like this temporary change is like a little holiday. A ribald, wild, uncivilised, drunken, tit-flashing, karaoke-involved holiday. I think with lipstick, false eyelashes and heels I could confuse the fuck out of some people next cocktail party. … Ha. Awesome.

* Photo source: Julia Squire…respect.  For full shoot (with nudity) see: