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:

The Light of Self Acceptance

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Meme Self acceptance

…and the Irony is, those parts of ourselves that we least like must be embraced, not shunned if we are to be free of them.

They must be wooed back to us, held, loved better and given what they need – and that is to stand those parts in the Light of Self Acceptance until they are forgiven and have reintegrated into the whole self. This is Self Acceptance and this is Acceptance we crave.

We sometimes think it is Acceptance from others that we are yearning for – from people in particular or society in general. Yet we cannot even receive that acceptance from anyone unless we have first allowed ourselves to accept that fragment that has been out in the cold.

There is no running from those parts of the self we deem ‘ugly’ or ‘weak’. Shunning or denying what we don’t like about ourselves just keeps the behaviour, thoughts and judgements in a holding pattern.  When we do not take responsibility for our shortcomings, incidents borne from the fruit of these old redundant parts of the self and from the secret conflict we have inside because we don’t like this part of ourselves, keep recurring.

We all do this. And we all have denial about it …until we don’t. I always find when the denial lifts, this is when I feel the most pain because I feel bad that I have spent so long living in the dark (on a certain issue). That is when I feel a lack of self acceptance: that I should be more evolved than I am. How can I STILL be at ‘this stage’. That is when I take both the shortcoming that I have just become aware of and the self judgement of not being perfect and stand them in the light. Which is to say I practice a series of meditations on Self Acceptance.  And, of course, I reach out to wise friends who remind me: It’s about Progress not Perfection.

So, do we embrace that shitty, weak, desperate, pushy, mean, selfish, or feeble part of ourself? Or do do we try and shut her out; starve her and hope she will die quietly?  Pull those parts close, amors. They are your little children, learning through mistakes. They are not to be scolded for learning! But held until their lesson is learnt and their pain subsides.

It casts another Light to the saying:

“To err is human, to forgive is divine.” ~ Alexander Pope.

Love (all of) you,



ps I am able to provide access to meditation material from my mentors upon request.

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Internet Dating: “This is red five. I’m going in.” Part 2

Luke: “What’s in there?”
Yoda: “Only what you take with you.”


Now when Yoda was advising Luke in this way, I am sure he was not talking about Online dating. But still – it applies.

I write this on the cusp on my first online-induced date.  With Jack.  Real name:  Not telling.  

(See Part 1 of this series.)  We are being conservative. It’s just coffee.

My friend – who is like a professional consultant for such bold and often awkward endeavours has offered to call me 15 minutes into it to give me an excuse to go.

Another friend who works in IT for one of the big dating sites also gives me 15 minute advice. “Tell him you will meet him for 15 minutes. One drink and you can go from there. Then if you’re having a good time for can always keep it rolling.” Having a good time? I dare not hope!

Internet dating. I’ve heard the horror stories and I’ve heard the doe-eyed ‘how-we-met’ stories.

I will admit I find it a bit daunting. But I’m not sure about these contingencies, I think I’d rather go in being real, trusting my own boundaries, holding my own ground.  I am more than equipped for such a journey:

I could really over think this and go in with all sorts of anxieties but instead I reckon the worst thing that will happen is Jack will be really rude, belligerent, creepy, overly familiar in a creepy sort of way and mean. AND creepy. Did I say that already? Or he could be creepy in a vapid, inane, messed up kind of way.

The second worst thing could be that there will be nothing to talk about. The third thing – especially if paired with the second thing – is that there will be no attraction.  At all.  Flat linin’…________Beeeeep_________.

But I won’t know unless I go.

Jack is making it easy after all.  He’s like:  “Hey, we’ll probably not hook up, and maybe we’ll never see each other again but, it’s harmless and we’ll probably be better people for meeting each other.” Now I can’t argue with that.

If nothing comes of it, BOOM! on to the next adventure.  And finally, I can always rely on Yoda for realistic advice:

Obi-wan: “That boy is our last hope.”

Yoda:  “No, there is another.”