2013 it's been real... really really tough...

Wow. 2013. You're almost over and before you etch yourself in the 'Worst Year on Record Hall of Fame', I have a few things I'd like to say to you.

First of all, where do you get off? I mean your path of destruction for the past 364 days and 12 hours has been mind blowing. You've been like a toddler coming off an Easter Sunday chocolate binge - all whiny and destructive, kicking everything and everyone in your path, and often while they're down. I tried to have it out with you and gently asked you to see reason but no, you just jumped right up from your "Mum won't let me play with scissors" style tantrum and continued your threat of Armageddon. 

What I don't understand is why? From a safe vantage point even I can understand a child like tantrum (over tired, too much mental stimulation, cutting a tooth etc etc) but your behaviour has been completely unfair and unkind. And yes, I am using my cranky voice with you right now.

Take a few people near and dear to me for example. Without mentioning any names out of fear of retribution for them talking about you behind your back, let's just think about these cracking blows...

The sickness card. Honestly, you really outdid yourself on this one. If you really really have to play the sickness card, how about leaving it at a 48 hour tummy bug that leaves it's victims a few kilos lighter and loving their flat lemonade without fear of the calorie intake. I know I am not alone in experiencing one of those moments when, as a result of your 2013 rampage, the world stopped spinning, breath leaves your lungs for countless seconds, arms and legs tingle with nerves only to leave you shaking for hours after the tingling stops. My moment was a phone call I'd been waiting on all day, so certain that the news would be good and we would all put this little scare down to over thinking the lumps and bumps on our bodies. But you had other ideas didn't you? I applaud your generosity in at least letting the discovery come in the early stages but throw rotten tomatoes at you for the surgery, chemo and radiation that ravaged the body of my sister next. The only way to tackle a bully is to take them on with the strength of an army, to the many many people who stood up to you and marched along my sister as you played the cancer card, I say thank you. To my sister who will undoubtedly hate being mentioned in this post, you have stunned me this year, you are amazing. And to my niece, the beautiful baby Beatrice who kept my sisters body company as she took on the cancer card, you are and always will be a 10/10.

I wish I could leave it there but this whole sickness palaver has gotten a little old. How about you give us all a rest from this one in 2014 and let the wounded from this year recover and move on from their undeserved war wounds. MS, cancer news after cancer news, miscarriages, enough is enough okay? We all get your point, we need to take care of our bodies and will do so next year. In fact it's a New Years Resolution I am unwilling to break: New Years Resolution no. 1 - don't get sick (unless it's that slimming tummy bug I mentioned earlier).

As you chucked your 2013 wobbly, it wasn't just our bodies and minds that got your attention, there were marriages to break up, relationships to dispose of and friendships to crush. Just what did you hope to achieve there huh? I understand that not all unions will last a life time however, we humans tend to take heartbreak quite seriously. Just because we can't take a pill to placate our broken hearts, doesn't mean that their destruction is any less important than a physically obvious injury. I beseech you to go easier on our love lives next year. How about a little less damage in matters of the heart in 2014? I humbly request more proposals, more jumping on couches declaring our love, smitten faces on public transport and cringe worthy phone calls that end in, "you hang up first, no you hang up first". New Years Resolution no. 2 - download more love songs!

And here's one I can't bring myself to delve into but hear me when I say, leave our loved ones with us. If Belinda Carlisle was right and heaven really is a place on earth, then just leave them here with us. Surely Heaven is getting crowded?

Before you think I'm at that bit of the blog where I start to look at the good stuff, I'm not finished with berating you just yet. Your turbulent year of wheeling and dealing blow after blow just wouldn't be complete with out dishing out money troubles, broken down cars (seriously, both of my cars over Christmas!), car accidents where the offender drives off leaving a family stranded in peak hour on Military Road. Missed dinner dates with friends due to random acts of bad luck (a few too many to mention). Broken promises from people we trust and strange rumours being spread by the people we don't. Bitchy office behaviour from our colleagues and road rage incidents from strangers, did I mention cars breaking down? New Years Resolution no. 3 - don't leave the house, unless fully wrapped in cotton wool and in a car that won't break down.

You've been a real shocker 2013 and I for one will be glad to see the back end of you. Of course, it's not in my goodness and gracious demeanor to burn my bridges so I will thank you for the good bits. Most of them start in "Fam" and end in "Ily". Thank you for my family, immediate and extended. Despite the year being fully of rocky patches, the number of moments spent with family have been incredible, especially that time when I hosted my sisters 30th and everyone left with the Norovirus. 

Thank you for presenting me with a chance to rejoin the workforce in a job that suits my current life down to a tee, thank you for the lovely people it's introduced me to and for the solo trips to the loo. Most of all though, thank you for bringing back that Friday feeling! Worth working three days a week alone! 

Thank you for helping me to see the beauty in my new home town. For helping me let go of my homesickness for Western Australia. Cottesloe Beach will always sit comfortably in my heart but the South Coast of NSW is truly amazing. 

Thank you for not giving me the winning numbers in Powerball ever... not. I don't mean that at all. I'm just looking for an extra spot to add how cruel you've been. Can you tell 2014 to slip me a few numbers in the lotto please? I promise I'll give some of it to charity and share it with my nearest and dearest. Really I will.

Most of all though 2013, thank you for being a complete and utter shithead. I have never believed more firmly that the future is bright and that the horizon is full of only goodness.

To the many readers of this blog (Mum, Mill, Chlo), thank you for your patience as I've taken an unannounced sabbatical from this blog. You see, writing about the good bits of life is all well and good but when you find the good bits hard to come by and the bad eggs stand out like sore thumbs, writing material can be hard to come by! In 2014, you should expect the occassional blog... it might be full of fluff (and typos) but there's every chance it will help us all to not only be open to a brighter point of view, but also help us get across the hurdles when 2014 chucks a tanty.

Happy New Year everybody. 

Goodness & Gracious xx

If you're happy and you know it...

Clap your hands!

What's that sound? Crickets chirping? Tumble weed blowing down a deserted street? Why isn't everyone clapping?

If you're happy and you know it, please come and have coffee with me. What's your secret? How ever did you manage to unlock the elusive door to happiness and step inside? What's it like in there anyway? Is the air fresher? Is the grass really greener? Tell me all about it, please! 

People often ask themselves about the meaning of life. Why are we here? What's it all about? I've given up on that one, I'm prepared to wait it out and ask the big guy upstairs when I arrive at the Pearly Gates. In the meantime, the newest and most glaring question in my world is. Am I happy? 

The past ten days have been spent in a whirlwind visit of driving around country NSW, numerous coffees with longtime friends and loved family members, revisiting my home town and all of the nostalgia that comes with it. The thing about spending time with the people you've known since childhood in the town where you lived those very special days, is that there's nowhere to hide from the little voices bubbling away inside of us. What did I want to be when I grew up? What kind of person did I hope I would turn out to be? Where would my life take me? Am I happy?

A conversation with my 16 year old self, the 'me' that seemed to follow me around this past 10 days, would go something like this:

16 yr old me: so did you go to the White House School of Design and become a fashion designer?

33 yr old me: No but I did find a less lucrative but fabulous career as an Executive Assistant for an accounting firm. 

16 yr old me: riiiiiiight, well did you at least marry a Wallaby? 

33 yr old me: No but I did marry the love of my life and he played Rugby when we were first dating! Anyway rugby players don't age well, cauliflower ears and all that. 

16 yr old me: well I assume you've at least travelled the world, bought a big house, drive a fancy car, have 3 children and are just a bit rich? 

33 yr old me: {insert mumbling something about realistic views of life and other nonsense adults say here}.

The flood of nostalgia of the past 10 days has been overwhelming. The time spent driving between destinations has been long and given me a chance to think (and think and think and think). One big thought bubble kept bubbling through my mind, am I where I'm supposed to be? Sadly Google maps couldn't answer this conundrum for me. 

Amidst the chaos of life, the demands of our jobs and families and ourselves, we expect happiness and general internal peace. We spend our days working, exercising, socialising, cleaning, cooking, buying new things, driving, talking, ordering coffee, reading, blogging, planning, vacuuming, watching, waiting and everything else in between. 

Somewhere in amongst the frenetic pace of life, we place expectations on ourselves to do more, be more and have more and to be happy in the process. I don't know about you but finding time to read a book seems impossible! Let alone finding the time to unlock the gates of happiness and step inside for a garden party (sorry - I just saw Gatsby and have been daydreaming myself a 1920s soiree ever since).

There's an internal conversation I have with myself almost always. It goes a bit like, "that's a great outfit but it would look better if you were skinner" or "I love our house but it would be better if we owned it" or "I love this movie but it would be better if I'd seen it at the movies". 

You know what noise should accompany these thoughts? The sound of a heavy lock and key echoing down an empty corridor. Each time the door locks, another chance of blissful happiness is trapped inside a small room. Could it be that our constant shuffling down the hallway of "but" is the very thing holding us back from our happiness? I attempted to step out of that pesky hallway last night... and it was hard.

After my little boy had joined the land of nods, I had a long candle lit bath (but the candle wasn't really bright enough and I wasn't sure about the scent - shhhhh! I'm not listening to you "but") and afterwards I took up residence on my couch with a cup of tea and a cluster of Smarties (but all the while I knew that 6 of my very good friends were all dining without me in Perth - I mean it "but" that's enough of you!). After I had watched Law & Order (a repeat episode... not technically a "but" but... oh come on!) I went to bed (but it was cold and I couldn't stop chastising myself for thinking of the 'b' word all night).

Argh! See what I mean?! Silencing my tendency to expect more from my life was virtually impossible last night. I gave it a go again today and yes, there were moments of "but" BUT you try and ignore the fact that... hang on, no really, I'm struggling to think of any "but" moments! Hooray! I'm cured! Well not exactly.

As I tossed and turned last night, I put a little shout out to the Facebook followers of this blog.

I received some beautiful replies.

Happiness is:

• Elusive - amen to that!
• A hug from your baby at the end of a stressful day - totally!
• Sitting around a campfire with friends and a guitar on the beach - absolutely!
• A good bottle of wine, good tunes, great mates, loving and supportive families and endless supplies of chocolate - take me there!
• A little girls giggle - always!
• Waking up to your baby laughing for the first time - what better start to the day could there be?!

There was one post that made everything come together in my mind though and it went like this:

Happiness is the little things.

Edwina McCauley! You solved the riddle and in doing so, you made my week!

It's occurred to me that happiness isn't a permanent and constant state of being. It's moments. It's asking the Hedgehog where his nose is and having him stick his finger right up his nostril, it's taking that first sip of tea as you stand bleary eyed in your kitchen in the morning, it's having dinner with your husband and going to see Gatsby afterwards because you can, it's singing your favourite song at the top of your lungs as you drive toward a three-day visit with your parents. Buddha himself could not feel permanently blissful and happy - content, maybe but happy? All the time? Nah.

Sitting at my dining table writing this post tonight, I called up my 16 year old self. We had a chat and it went like this...

16 yr old me: what? (don't you just love teenage girls?)

33 tr old me: listen. You know that diary you write in and all those dreams you have? Keep on writing and dreaming because you are on your way to a beautiful life. So what if you don't do everything on that big list of yours (incidentally, the sooner you outgrow your 'aggie' phase, the better). So what if you don't fulfill every ambition you carefully map out for your future. The truth is that your life will bring you incredible friends, take you to the most beautiful places, show you remarkable countries, introduce you to new ideas and give you the most beautiful memories. So go easy on yourself as you grow up. Wherever you end up, it's where you're meant to be. 

16 yr old me: whatevs. 

On that note readers, I'm off to find myself some happiness in the form of curling up on the couch and watching 'Silver Linings Playbook'. 

Happy Friday night everyone - it's good to be back. 

No one likes a bully... except

Be kind - have good manners - say please and thank you - don't forget to smile - jump in puddles - share your toys with your friends - make new friends - eat your greens - don't push in - be kind.

Simple rules govern the land of childhood. A slight tumble from the path of goodness and you are quickly in the shadows of the realms of bullying.

In the world of little people, a bully is easy to spot. Red not rosy cheeks, a steely not gentle gaze, aggressive stomps not tentative steps. A typically bully is named something completely at odds with their demeanour. I once knew a frightening four year old named Imogen. Her best friend was Primrose. They were a force to be reckoned with.

In the world of little people, a bully moves with intent. Sticks and stones are used with rigour and words are the perfect fodder for little tears warming the cheeks of their victims.

In the world of little people, grown ups govern the playgrounds and backyards of their residents. A simple sidestep from the path of goodness is corrected with a stern word and reminder that we are kind to our friends. An apology is directed and everyone involved then skip merrily on their way, back to the path of goodness.

It must be confusing for the little people of our world with one set of rules for them and another set for the grown ups. They could be forgiven for thinking that just like the drinking age, at some point in their little lives, they will graduate from the demanding realm of being kind to one another and step gleefully into the days of heckling, cyberbullying and passive aggressive rebellion to others.

Here at Goodness & Gracious HQ, we love ourselves a good bit of reality TV. We love the drama of a souffle not rising and the tradgedy of being sent to a battle for immunity. We thrive on the tears and tantrums and yearn for the shock exit of the carefully selected villain of the series. Lately however, we've noticed a trend. Villains have existed since Batman & Robin slid into their first pair of tights, they've made life tricky since Oliver Twist asked for more, they've graced our screens since televisions popped up in our living rooms. Villains are no longer medelsome characters plotting to destroy the world (coincidentally this has always confused me, if the world is destroyed, don't they go down too? Where's the fun in that?!) The villains on our TV screens are no longer creatures of the night. Villains are no longer withered creatures with badly applied make up. 

Villains today are just about all of us. 

What I would give to view a post made by a celebrity on Facebook or Instagram and find the comments left by their followers to be nothing but positive. I'm almost always shocked to read what the minority of their followers are brave enough to write. I say minority because that's just what they are, minor in numbers, minimal in importance yet loud enough to silence the majority.

For example, I'm a self confessed Block'a'holic. A few weeks ago, the Mother of one of this years contestants passed away after a brutal and long battle with cancer. The Block's official Facebook page posted a message of support to the contestant and her family. Hundreds of people left messages of support yet a handful left messages of hate, "get on with it", "who cares - its a renovation show", blah blah blah. 

Mean spirited people have and will always exist. What's new in their hatred is the medium of social media. To share and foster their disrespect of others, they simple click the 'comment' button and with a few short (and often misspelt words) their bullying is cemented in the virtual footpath of cyberspace. 

The modern day bully often appears as a small face on our computers and smartphones and they have endless hours of typing to fuel their passion for belittling others from the safety of their couch or home office. Such bravery! At least a childhood bully is brave enough to trip you over and shoot you a look the screams "yeah, whatya gonna do about it?"

There is so much written about cyber bullying of children and teenagers. The question of what to do sits in the hands of the grown ups. Perhaps we could start by sending the right messages to our kids? Perhaps we could show then that belittling people is wrong and celebrating our differences is an amazing alternative? Seems pretty simple right?

At risk of repeating myself (something I love to do. What's a story if it doesn't begin with, I'm sure I've told you this before but') but I love reality tv. I was HOOKED on this years My Kitchen Rules. But * insert sigh here * what happened to having manners and being kind to our friends? Anyone who watched an episode or even saw a commercial will know that this years two biggest contestants were 'friends from NSW'. These girls were awful. They blatantly bagged out others, they disrespected people to their faces and even in their own homes, they laughed openly at the failures of others and rolled their eyes at every opportunity. In the land of childhood, this kind of behavior would result in a good talking to, maybe a grounding or even a visit to the school guidance counsellor. On TV, it's a ratings plus and a entertainment high! 

What was even worse, in an interview with other contestants on the show, the others claimed to have no knowledge of how these contestants really felt! They were so nice on set! 

"Oh", think little people, "so if you tease someone, you just have to say it in a witty way and behind their back and it's okay? And even better, if we say really nasty things online, we don't have to try and muster up the courage to be a meanie in person? Awesome!"

We're all different. We all like and dislike different things. We all wear different clothes and eat different food. We look different and sound different. We are passionate about different things and we are empathetic to different ideals. Being an individual is amazing and in this era, it's brave. Wouldn't it be amazing if instead of hating, criticizing and bullying others and their differences, we accepted them and moved on? Wouldn't it be incredible if we didn't ridicule the people who are brave enough to stand out? Wouldn't it change the world if we were all a little kinder, more accepting and empathetic? Shouldn't we start on these notions with the people who look up to us as though we have all the answers?

The rules for grown ups shouldn't be so different to our little friends. Imagine if our rules for how we take part in society were as simple as being kind - having good manners - saying please and thank you - not forgetting to smile - jumping in puddles - sharing your toys... or at least our positivity, with our friends - making new friends - eating our greens and not pushing in. I dare anyone to challenge the idea that these simple things couldn't change our worlds. 

I ask a lot of the readers of this blog, love your flawed bodies, throw away labels and pigeonholing, be nice to stangers, hug trees, smile as you fold your washing  yadah yadah yadah. Today I'm asking of you again, on the matter of bullying, in any form, let's all start saying no to all forms of it and show our little ones that just as kicking a friend in the shins is wrong, so too is the adult form. 

Come on, who's with me?

Bloggers note: haters gonna hate is not a reasonable argument for not joining this movement. 

Big ships and little ships...

Two little girls sat cross legged on the bedroom floor. They opened the small felt box and gingerly removed the silver chains from within. They beamed happiness as they carefully broke the little silver heart into two pieces. They whispered promises of being best friends forever as they placed the necklaces on each others necks, their friendship hereby cemented for life.

Other little girls gazed at the necklaces adorning the two special friends, wishing they they too could be included in the best friend forever pact. Some would go so far as to whisper nasty stories in the ears of either girl as if to break the pact with words.

Overtime, the necklaces grew tarnished. Sometimes the fragile chains would break and need fixing by their Dads or replacing by the jewellers. Occassionally they wouldn't be broken or damaged at all, they would simply be removed in haste and thrown into their jewellry box with a declaration of never being worn again. After some time, the necklaces spent more time laying on a bedside table or lost under piles of dirty clothes. Eventually, they were lost altogether, a simple memory of a moment in time.

The two little girls didn't even know it was sad. They were busily plucking eyebrows, buying new CDs, reading Dolly Doctor from the privacy of their bedrooms and daydreaming about growing up. One day, when they eventually had grown up, they would understand that friendships aren't founded on the sharing of a necklace. No. In the world of grown ups, friendships are founded on much stronger stuff than that!

*

Friends. Not the "I just want to stalk you on Facebook" variety. The "know your coffee order - remember your birthday - ask after your parents - have seen you rolling drunk and bought you Maccas for breakfast the next day" friends.

I've collected lots of friends in my 33 years and I've lost just as many.

This quest to find the goodness in my world has conjured up all sorts of thoughts. First there was the promise to be nice to people. I did that and I continue to do that. It ain't always easy but for the most part, it's made a huge difference to my happiness. I've been thinking about the idea of being nice those that make a daily cameo in my life and am starting to feel boarder line hypocritical. Here I am playing Little Miss Sunshine to complete strangers and declaring myself inspirational (to myself - not to you lot - you can go back to being inspired by Oprah Winfrey thank you very much). The problem with finding the goodness in others is this, you start to notice little cracks in the goodness of yourself.

So. What to do? Do I start inboxing the friends of my past on Facebook and offering an olive branch on friendships of times past?

Dear Samantha*
Hi! How are you? What have you been up to (in the 15 years since we finished school) Random but I wanted to touch base and say I'm sorry about the time that you accidentally rolled in bird poo while we were all laying on the oval watching the clouds during recess and I laughed and told everyone and everyone else laughed too.
It won't happen again - friends?
Yours sincerely
Goodness & Gracious
* funnily enough, names have been changed.

Before completely losing my marbles and declaring world peace on everyone whom I had wronged, been hurt by or simply lost touch with, I had the good sense to log out of Facebook and do a load of washing (or something equally as exciting - stay at home mum remember). 

In life, people come and go. Some people creep into your heart and make themselves nice and cosy. Some of them earn their keep by offering a shoulder to cry on, a second opinion to impulse shopping purchases or a helping hand as you climb onto a table to dance along side them. Some of them bury themselves even deeper by offering to bring their husbands clippers to your house and help you shave your head after your chemo treatment tells your folicles to take a hike. These friends are worth every cent spent on birthday presents, drunk phone calls, repetition of stories heard time and time again. They're worth apologising to when you've been a cow and they're worth accepting the apology when they've been a cow.

The "go" part of the come and go, that's a little trickier. Embracing the good in people is important. Knowing who is good is important. Letting go of those people who haven't etched themselves in your heart but stomp on your happiness with narky remarks and hurtful actions, that's important. 

With all of that in mind, what would be the purpose of reaching out to the friends of your past? Surely you would have fought harder to keep them in your life if it were meant to be? 

In the land of Childhood, numbers are important. You need lots and lots and lots of friends. You need big ones and small ones and you need them around you all of the time. You need them to carry you over the bumpy path to becoming an adult. Some of them will bounce off this path only to become a different sort of friend (a Facebook friend - you will watch them from a far and judge them with vigour). Others will tumble along the path with you. They'll tell you when a twist is coming and help you up from an unforseen turn. They'll hold your hand with the path gets scary and they'll hold you up when the path makes you laugh until you snort. 

When you arrive at the door to the land of  adulthood, those friends still standing by your side are the ones you should focus on. Why go back and collect those that couldn't, wouldn't it or shouldn't keep up? Life is far too short and too busy to fill it with people who don't fulfill you. 

So where does that leave us? If we're being kind to strangers and letting old friends go, are we hypocritical? The answer to the riddle (in the world according to Goodness & Gracious) is this... be kind to the people in your world - be them strangers or loved ones. Call your friends, reply to their texts, go to their Tupperware parties when you couldn't think of anything worse, be nice to their partners, tell them when they have pesto caught in their teeth. 

It doesn't take a silver necklace to cement a friendship. Embrace the people in your life who make you laugh but are still standing right beside you when you cry. On that note, this post must come to an end, I have some friends to phone! 

Happy Friday everyone x

Day 1 of the 'Stop Hating Your Body' revolution

So... I might be taking it too far but I've always liked colored jeans. I've never been brave enough to buy a pair. No, I'm more of a "dark and bum-minimizing" kind of gal. Yesterday I posted my very honest blog about my less than perfect body and then quickly ducked into the shops to buy clothes for the Hedgehog. No clothes for my little boy but a pair of  Kermit the Frog jeans for me. Thank you Cotton On sales rack, $20! (Yes I know there's a reason they were on sale).

They don't make my thighs look any smaller... They might actually make them look bigger! Never mind - Megan Gale I ain't. Wearer of questionable jeans - I am!

I hope you've celebrated your wobbly bits a little more today too. 

Start a revolution... stop hating your body!

In the world of Childhood, nothing is cuter than chubby cheeks, dimpley thighs and a wobbly toosh. Every little weight gain is celebrated and a love of food is considered to be an enormous and amazing attribute. In fact, shunning a meal or showing a dislike to anything is frowned upon altogether. In the world of Childhood, parents chase after their unsteady progeny encouraging them to take a bite of a sandwich or at least have a piece of fruit. In the world of Childhood, "weight" is spelt the other way and its meaning has nothing to do with appearance.

My my, how things change...

Guess what? I've reached my pre-hedgehog weight. Amazing right? (insert big sigh and feelings of self loathing here).

A funny thing happened while I was pregnant. I looked back on pre-pregnancy photos of myself and realised that I was actually a lot skinnier than I had ever let myself believe. I promised myself that after I had my baby and returned to my pre-pregnancy self, I would be kinder to my reflection. I would wear my skinny jeans with pride, ignore the bumps and lumps that are often invisible to other people and stop myself from buying 'Bridget Jones' underwear and get shopping on Victoria's Secret instead.

With all this in mind, I've been actively chasing the demons of my pregnancy off my body. All those toasted cheese sandwiches, chocolate milkshakes and banana bread - slowly (mindnumbingly slowly) falling off my body with each push of the pram and lift of the Hedgehog. It took just 40 weeks to gain the 20 kilos that I added to my body during pregnancy and has taken 36 weeks to lose them. Weird considering tabloids are constantly screaming headlines of A-List celebs being back to their pre-baby figures the second they deliver their gobsmakingly beautiful children. Thank you Who Weekly for my unrealistic views of just how this weight loss challenge would unfold.

With all this hard work and the promise of being kinder to myself, you would think that I would be celebrating that magical number flashing up at me from my scales this morning. Sadly, it seems that while weight can be lost, insecurities and allergies to all things reflection related cannot.

I've lost weight before. When I was 25, I weighed close to 90 kilos. One New Years day I woke up and decided that I didn't want to be a size 16 and would try and be a size 14 by Easter. I started walking every day and ate according to the CSIRO diet. By Easter time I was a size 12. Not content with that number, I pushed and pushed myself until I reached my goal weight, 62 kilos. Again, you would think that I would celebrate that achievement. Wrong. I decided that 58 was a better kilo to weigh and pushed and pushed until FINALLY, I reached that goal too. 58 was my wedding day weight and you would think that on my wedding day, dressed in a hellishly expensive size 8 gown, I would finally be pleased with myself. Wrong! I promised that as soon as I returned from my honeymoon, I would aim for 55.

I've never gone below 58. I know in my heart that lots of people would cry with happiness at seeing that number blink at them from their scales. I know that I am healthy and fit and can buy clothes from almost any store my credit card allows. I rationally tell myself that strangers aren't assessing the width of my hips and wobble of my arms as I walk by. Yet all of these rational thoughts can't silence that little voice in my head that says, "you shouldn't have eaten that" or "don't you think you'd be better off with a slice of celery".

Before you roll your eyes for the seventh time since visiting this blog, this post is not an online confessional dedicated to my appearance. I'm simply voicing what I know 99% of the female population are feeling. Jennifer Hawkins is the 1% exception. I read recently that she is happy in the skin she is in. What a relief! If 'our Jen' couldn't love herself sick, who can?!

I've known hundreds of beautiful women in my life. I've spent hours marvelling at their sense of style, charisma and general aura. I've envied their wit and humour. I've witnessed them turn heads as they cross the street or simply walk into a room. Do I know the number on their clothing tag? Have I ever asked them how much they weigh? Have I ever wondered what they would look like if they lost a little weight? No, so why do we constantly think this of ourselves?

I'm not sure that I will ever celebrate my body with wild abandon. Do any of us? And if we don't, why?

You've probably heard this before but, imagine if we let a friend talk to us they way we inwardly speak to ourselves. We'd ditch them in a heart beat right? Goodness and Gracious is all about finding the good. I've quoted Ellen de Generes and her request for us to be kind to one another. How about we look inwards and be a little kind to ourselves? How about we revisit our Childhood and celebrate our chubby cheeks, dimpley thighs and a wobbly tooshes? Perhaps we could accept a little wiggle and embrace our curves? No diets - no shakes - no despairing at the sight of a kilo creeping onto our hips. Simply an acceptance of who we are and acknowledging that we're all alright.

I'll go first... I may not look incredible in a bikini right now, but am totally amazing in my new winter wardrobe. Scarves are my friend and layers make me happy.

What do you think? Are you in? What will you do to celebrate your flawed yet beautiful appearance?

A letter to my 39 week pregnant self...

Dear 39 week pregnant you

This time next week, you will be a mother. You will be holding 3.3kgs of absolute perfection and 51cm of innocence. You will have just experienced what you now know to be a nightmare birth, yet you only rated it a 6/10 on the nightmare-delivery-stories scale. You will be sick for days and holding your newborn child will be almost impossible at times. But, you will do it. You have to do it. The smallest and most incredible person has just become your life's work, and besides, you've got a bit of time on your hands, why not use it to raise a child?

I know you're nervous about what's to come and I'm writing this letter to tell you this, you'll be amazing. How do I know this? Because I'm you - almost 11 months on from today. I know, weird concept right? I figure if people really believe that Kim Kardashian is comfortable in those leather outfits at 8 months pregnant, you can bend your mind to get through this letter.

Your newborn baby will soon become known as the Hedgehog. Your younger sister will name him this after she sees his shock of spikey and almost black hair. The name will stick long after he goes through that 'Bert Newton phase' and all of his hair falls out. It will grow back blonde and thick and he will look more like his Dad than you, lucky his Dad is so easy on the eye.

As you leave hospital and make that first trip home, you will see the world in a new light. Noises will sound louder, cars will seem faster, nights will seem longer and you will feel lonelier. I wish you wouldn't. Despite all of your fears, nobody is judging you. The friends that visit and gush over your baby aren't looking at your baby weight. Nobody is thinking that you might drop him, forget to change him, wonder when you will ever cook a meal again. The Governor doesn't expect you to keep a spotless home and look like a Stepford wife when he comes home in the afternoon. Despite all of your fears, everyone in your world is looking beyond your pony tailed hair (will you ever have time to use your GHD again) and unvacuumed floor and gazing directly at your beautiful little boy. So how about you stop vacuuming with the Hedgehog in the baby carrier, sit peacefully during the rare moments your child is asleep and be a little kinder to yourself? What's the worst that could happen?

This may come as a shock to you but... your baby won't share your love of sleep. It will be another seven months before the Hedgehog sleeps longer than 41 minutes at a time during the day (and even longer before he sleeps through the night). You will tell everyone you like it this way, that you can get more done in 41 minutes than you ever thought possible. You will shower, dress, do hair and make up at break neck speed and even unstack the dishwasher in 41 minutes. You will have a 20 minute power nap and a cup of tea in 41 minutes. You will spend all 41 minutes of every single nap thinking that today might be the day that he sleeps like other newborns sleep. It won't be.  Believe me when I tell you that one day, your baby will sleep for 2 hours and 47 minutes and you will peek into his room to check he's breathing at least seven times during that sleep. After this, he will have long and lovely naps every day and you will finally exhale and admit that you've been running since the first day you arrived home from hospital. And for a few weeks, you will feel exhausted as this marathon of running finally catches up with you.

Exhaustion comes in many forms and the strongest incident of this will occur during the Hedgehog's six week growth spurt. It won't ever be as bad as this one week. You will cry a lot towards the end of this particular week. In fact, you will cry in a cafe in South Perth with a very special friend who has teenage children of her own. Listen to her when she says that being a new mum is hard and that you're doing an amazing job. Heed her words when she tells you that everyone feels like this regardless of how often they tell you that their baby is perfect (and starting piano lessons and learning Spanish soon too). Enjoy this coffee date as an hour later and you sit breastfeeding the Hedgehog on the banks of the Swan River, you will get a parking ticket and the Hedgehog will cry all the way home. But that will be the last of it, that will be the only moment that you genuinely think, "I can't do this".

You absolutely can do it and you absolutely are a lovely Mum.

I can't tell you when you will start to believe in yourself but it will happen. One day you will be brave enough to visit an art gallery and go for lunch afterwards, Hedgehog in tow. You will return to your pre-baby size and those J Brand jeans you bought just before you fell pregnant. You will love being a Mum and your baby will bring you more joy than you can ever imagine.

You have so many firsts ahead of you. You will never forget his first smile - ironically, it will be just seconds before he has his 8-week immunisation shots. His first laugh will melt your heart and make you smile every time you play it back on your iPhone. The first night he returns home to NSW and meets his Aunty CeeCee and sees his Aunty Mill and big cousin Tbot, will be incredible. He will smile the second he lays eyes on these special people and eat his first bowl of solids as you all sit at CeeCee's table and share a pizza.

You will capture so many firsts on your iPhone but don't forget that sometimes, your memory can record these moments too. Try to enjoy the many amazing moments without a camera or phone capturing the event. You won't have a camera when his gobbeldygook finally becomes, "Mumumumumum" or "Dadadadadada", yet you will remember these words as clearly as the moment he first says them.

Speaking of words, you will hear a lot of them. Advice will come at you thick and fast. You mightn't ask for it and often times, you don't actually need it. There will be times when 'Baby Love' just won't cut the mustard and when these times arrive, you know the friends who can help. One friend will be amazing and you will owe her a debt of gratitude when everything falls into place. You can't repay her for her endless texts and emails but you can pay it forward and help other and more new Mums when they need it. The first time you give a friend advice and it actually helps them, you will feel like you've made it. And you'll smile.

One more thing before I close, you know those enormous boobs you're sporting? Well they're about to get even bigger. Despite their size, you won't be able to breastfeed for quite as long as you have planned and that's okay. When the time is right and you bravely offer your baby a bottle of formula, you will cry. You will trade the long and difficult evening breastfeeds for a bottle feed and books. You will read and read and read to your baby and this special bond will live on far longer than you had ever planned to breastfeed. Believe me when I tell you that people in cafes are not looking at you when you offer your baby a bottle in public. Anyway who cares if they are! Over time you will realise that your baby was hungry for a lot longer than you realised and that moving him onto formula will be kinder to him than struggling with a small supply of breast milk.

Enjoy this final week before you drive to the hospital on Saturday morning. You are going to pack lots of things into your hospital bag. Please don't forget to take your self-confidence and strength. You will need both of them. You don't know it yet but you already have what you won't read about in all of those books you've been studying, you're taking a whole suitcase of unconditional love with you and as The Beatles sung, it really is all you need.

It's time to sign off now. It's Saturday night and believe it or not, the Hedgehog has been in bed for 2 hours and you have a date with your husband. It involves a cup of tea and a movie and you can't think of anywhere else you would rather be. Oh and it's your very first Mothers Day tomorrow. You are eagerly anticipating opening your gifts and secretly hope you're getting a pair of pajamas and slippers...

Happy Mothers Day to you and to all of the incredible Mothers that you've met and are yet to meet. You/we, are doing a great job. 

Lots of love,
You xx

Me and the Hedgehog xx