The Australia Times - Life & Love magazine. Volume 2, issue 1

LIFE & LOVE

January 2014Vol. 2 No: 1

Independent Media Inspiring Minds2

WELCOME NOTE............................................................ 5

EXCUSE ME, NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTIONS....................... 6

THE NEW NUCLEAR....................................................... 11

A CUP A DAY.................................................................. 16

THE HIPSTER: A CONTRADICTION IN TERMS................ 19

AVOIDING THE AWKWARD.......................................... 23

ARE YOU BETTER OFF ALONE?..................................... 26

CAMP LEGENDS ........................................................... 30

MY HEART IS A GLOBE ................................................. 40

AN EGGXELLENT IDEA .................................................. 44

THE SUGARY TRUTH?.................................................... 48

TALES FROM THE CAMINO........................................... 58

Editor:

AMY DORRINGTON

Contributors:

JESS LEECH

DANIEL WALMSLEY

CHRISTINA MACPHERSON

LUKE TARRANT

SAMANTHA WHY

JOANNE CORRIGAN

CONNIE LAMBETH

K. FELICE

COCO GILMOUR

DAWN MISSO

KAT FITZPATRICK

ALICE MANSFIELD

MALI REED

Designer:

ANDREW O

’

BRIEN

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INSIDE THIS ISSUE

LIFE & LOVE

Cover image courtesy of Angie Geurs from Forever Soles www.foreversoles.com

Photographer: Hannah Lilly Leser: www.facebook.com/hannah.leser

Stylist: Kit Alida from Alida Buffalo Vintage www.facebook.com/alida.buffalo

Model: Christina Macpherson

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www.facebook.com.licensetosmile

You know exactly what I’m talking about -

drunken family members making it their

mission to spend their enre Christmas in

a onesie (yep - only in chilly Melbourne

could that be temperature-conducive),

boozy games of beach frisbee (which you

now realise was the only physical acvity

your body encountered over the past

few weeks - that’s unless you include the

champagne-laced-couch-dancing on

New Year’s Eve)

and just the pure, shameless, over-

indulgent gluony of it all.

Well, that’s prey much how my fesve

season went down. To keep the party

vibe kicking along and to celebrate the

glorious fact that sweet, sweet SUMMER

has nally graced us with her presence,

we decided to bring you a big, juicy, extra

loved-up issue of TAT Life & Love mag

this me around with heaps of the good

stu just to keep the fesve cheer rolling.

So as the twenty-fourteen party season

gets underway and the slate is wiped

clean, I wonder what will be in store

for this year? This issue is chock-full of

laughs, a few New Year no-no’s, some

inspiraon for the free-spirited soul

and some obligatory awkwardness…

Enjoy!

Ames xx

Image Credit: Dimitry B - http://www.flickr.com/photos/ru_boff/7931844124/

Aaron Alexander - http://www.flickr.com/photos/asalexander/3176093015/

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By now, you may or may not have recovered from the utter pandemonium

that was the festive season and the big old sayonara to 2013.

Independent Media Inspiring Minds6

EXCUSE

ME,

NEW YEAR

RESOLUTIONS

Who do you think you are? Putting more

pressure on us to be 'better people' after

one of the biggest nights of the year?

I don't know about you, but we're all just trying

to get past the hangover.

The holiday season is to blame. It's the one time of

year we eat up, spend up, booze up... and wake up

on New Year's Day feeling guilty

(

or still drunk

)

We've pushed our bodies, our emotions and our

credit cards to the limit. But this year, it's all

going to change, right? We're going on diets, we're

putting double on our mortgages and we're never

drinking again.

YES!

No, Resolutions. No.

EXCUSE

ME,

NEW YEAR

RESOLUTIONS

EXCUSE

ME,

NEW YEAR

RESOLUTIONS

EXCUSE

ME,

NEW YEAR

RESOLUTIONS

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LIFE & LOVE

Quite frankly, you should be ashamed. You've set us up

to fail at our most vulnerable and foggy-headed time.

You only have to look at Twitter or Instagram right

now to witness the madness. Every brand under the

sun is jumping on board. “Oh, January, hmm... I know...

let.'s do New Year's Resolutions!' How original.

s Jim Carrey would say: “SOMEBODY STOP ME!''

Don't get me wrong... I'm all for a challenge.

m the first to add murky green chlorophyll to my

water every January for a “detox''. You should see

the looks I get; it makes my boss wanna hurl. But

surely the key is a constant journey of little 'I Will's'

- not one single thing that's impossible to sustain...

So this year, we're making mistakes, lots of them.

We're travelling to places we've never been before.

We're trying things we've never tried - even if

it is something called chlorophyll.

And we're going to make ourselves feel amazing,

little by little, every day.

Perhaps from now on, we should call you

New Year's 'Revolutions' instead.

'Cos I'm certainly not making any resolutions.

Who wants to be a cheap, skinny, sober chick, anyway?

Yours sincerely,

Jess

EXCUSE

ME,

NEW YEAR

RESOLUTIONS

EXCUSE

ME,

NEW YEAR

RESOLUTIONS

EXCUSE

ME,

NEW YEAR

RESOLUTIONS

EXCUSE

ME,

NEW YEAR

RESOLUTIONS

http://excusemejess.com

Image Credit: Evan Leeson - http://www.flickr.com/photos/41864721@N00/8332327516

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Image Credit: Alice Mansfield

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You are sitting at the head of the dinner table. This time you’ve

really f***ed up, made a mistake and now you have to front the

tribunal. The faces of the three people you’re closest to at this

point in your life stare back at you: hurt, surprised, disappointed.

You’re just happy they’ve agreed to share

the same space as you, they’re just

happy you haven’t made any sudden

movements. They look as though they’re

poised to make a quick escape, if need be.

You reassure them that you’re still

the same, even though you know the

friendship band has been ofcially

broken. They accept your apology, albeit

completely unconvincingly. You’re totally

disappointed in yourself and your inability

to handle a deluge of champagne.

You make excuses for your bad behaviour...

there were extenuating circumstances,

you’re not normally aggressive, you

had an out of body experience, all of

which is accepted but alas, not forgiven.

You understand this completely as after

all, you did it. Will they ever look at you

the same again?

If you’re anything like me, then you’re part of

a very diverse social network. It’s another

facet to life in the city, or anywhere really.

New people come into your life every day;

many are forgettable and some you wish

you could forget. You have to learn to be

discerning with whom you allow into your

life. There’s no way to pick a lifelong friend

upon rst introduction but, like a crush,

something excites and intrigues you about

this new person.

by Daniel Walmsley

Independent Media Inspiring Minds

It’s not always love at rst sight either. Often, if you

don’t feel that spark instantaneously, it can develop

over time. During early interactions with many of my

closest friends, I remember thinking: I could never

be your friend. However, over time and with a little

interaction, you become completely at ease around

these people and sometimes completely inseparable.

Once individual friendships have been established

it’s time to bring people together. Sometimes,

it’s easy; you all came together through some

mutual institution and friendship forms organically,

or you introduced each other and enjoyed a mutual

appreciation. Either way, your worlds have collided,

the stars have aligned, complimented each other,

created something wonderful and you’ve found

yourself with an ‘urban family’.

Unlike your actual family, the benet of having

an urban family is that you can choose who joins

this one. Your ‘family’ care about you, but not too

much and ultimately can’t really tell you what to do.

They share your love of all things alcoholic and, most

importantly, they are absolutely brilliant company.

These are the relationships that lack extreme vanity.

In saying this, I’m not detracting from the importance

of narcissistic friends, who have the low-down on the

best bars and look amazing on our Instagram feeds.

I’m talking about full-frontal, know-where-you-live,

talk-on-the-daily, genuine friends. But that’s not to

say these relationships are perfect, as wonderful as

that may sound. This is a genuine commitment and

hard work; these kinds of friendships don’t last the

test of time for nothing.

Sometimes the behaviours of our best friends

can be absolutely bafing. Especially in my group

as I’m sure it is in yours. We are all very different.

This keeps things interesting, but at the same time

can make situations hard to navigate and can

end in miscommunication and misunderstanding,

perhaps even tears. Maybe no one understands

you or maybe they’ve misunderstood you... that part

of the deal: learning what makes your friends tick.

In a perfect world, your friends would never upset or

disappoint you but it would be foolish to expect your

friends to do exactly what you want them to as what

would be the point? If a friend has truly committed

an injustice then you’ve always got your fellow family

members to either stand up for you or keep you in

line as they truly are the harshest jury.

But what is it that attracts

us to such a diverse group

of people and how do we

generally make it work?

I think the interesting part of friendship is asking

yourself how you found each other. Is it a case

of propinquity where we latch onto people

simply because we’re physically close to them?

This isn’t as ridiculous as it sounds. I think my

closest friendships were formed through some form

of work or study. I can’t name a friend that I simply

met on the street, yet don’t believe that a close

personal friendship could be that random either.

Could there be something more cosmic at work?

Maybe the course of every relationship really is

written in the stars and what a beautiful thought

that is. If it really is a case of destiny then some

friendships are destined to go bad. It’s the

differences that can cause a myriad of problems

for a friendship group. Like all families, there’s an

element of dysfunction which can’t be helped, even

though you seem to have meticulously constructed

your ‘family’ within an inch of its life.

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In my experience, the urban family has outlived

most of my actual romantic relationships, which

probably says more about my choice of partners

than anything. However, in some cases, a key

relationship can stand at the head of the family,

a stoic matriarch or patriarch to oversee and keep

the members of the family in check. While a key

relationship can bring a family together, it can

also tear one apart through separation of the two

parties. In most cases, a bitter divorce is followed

by a custody battle where members of the family

are generally forced to draw a very distinct line and

pick a side or see one friend primarily with the other,

on alternate weekends. You could pray for a reunion,

but it most likely isn’t going to happen - accept this

‘new normal’ and move on.

There’s also the extended family. This incorporates

partners, friends-of-friends and actual blood-

relatives. These are the people who are integral

to individual family members but are removed

from the family unit itself. They’re often brought

into the family under special circumstances such

as birthdays or house parties. They’re not an

integral part of the family and you therefore have

the luxury of deciding who you like and who you

won’t tolerate, almost instantly. A close friend’s

taste in friends can sometimes be bafing as they

can sometimes appear to have the worst taste

in friends. What then does that say about you?

We have all written off a friend-of-a-friend based on

unpleasant traits such as lack of a sense of humour,

general air of superiority or even for no reason at

all (“it wasn’t what they said, it was their tone”).

In many cases you fail to see anything special

about them and cannot understand what your

close friend does, however this all relates back

to the differences in people previously noted.

Having said that, extended family members can,

in some cases, manage to move past this initial

screening process and make it into the group.

As for you, a week has now passed. There’s been

one-on-one coffee time with each family member.

You’ve listened to what they’ve had to say, plead

your case, endured the excruciating indifference

this has been met with, followed by a week’s

worth of nights agonising over it. While you would

give anything to be able to take your indiscretions

back, you’ve accepted that you’re just going to

have to live with your actions. Things may never

be the same again but you’re willing to work with it.

Then the texts start coming through: how was your

day, a ‘Seinfeld’ quote, family outing this Saturday

night. The messages lack hesitancy; they’re open,

honest and transparent. The family unit has been

restored and everything is right in your world again.

In retrospect, it seems silly to think that you’d never

be forgiven.

They’re your family,

after all.

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I can categorically say this because I have

in fact tasted every coee in the world,

but let’s save that for another arcle.

Louie loves his job; the perfectly med

and ground coee bean followed by the

smooth pour from machine to cup, the

silky frothed milk adding to it to make a

perfect cuppa does something special for

my friend. It makes him happy, and seeing

a customer’s face light up aer one sip

– that makes him happy too. But lately,

Louie’s self-worth and purpose is low.

He shares with me one night over a few

too many whiskey-laced laes that whilst

he enjoys his job, it bothers him that

it doesn’t serve to create any greater

good; that it doesn’t help people but just

temporarily wakes them up.

My reacon to my friend’s glum state is...

unhelpful. I, like Louie, used to be a barista

and aer a few years working ten-hour

days steaming and smiling and pouring

and cleaning...well, you end up feeling

like your signicance on this planet is a bit

pointless. I felt for my friend, especially

because he enjoyed what he was doing

however, he just felt there was no real

point to it...

Then, a few days ago, I wandered into a

cafe I’d never been to before. I walked

in and spoed a prey good looking guy

at the counter who I smiled at, walked

towards and was then grunted at. Now I

know people somemes exaggerate when

they say that, but I was - quite literally -

grunted at. It was a mixture of “eh” and

“blurggg” and I took it to signify “what

do you want?”. I resolved that I’d win this

guy over with my dorkiness and charm.

I asked him how his morning was and he

ignored me, instead answering his phone

and proceeded to make me a coee that

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I have a friend (no really, I do)

who is in a bit of a rut. My friend -

let’s call him Louie for the sake of the story -

is a barista and makes the best coee in the world.

was annoyingly delicious. I thanked him

on my way out and he again ignored me.

The whole scenario lasted about 20

minutes and le me feeling at and

dejected for the enre day. I couldn’t

stop thinking about this a-hole

who couldn’t even manage to

arculate a single word for me; not

a “hello”, “okay”, “bye”... I was grumpy

the whole day, I was nasty to my

boyfriend and I couldn’t concentrate

at work at all (although that last one

happens quite frequently).

A few days later it hit me. My friend Louie,

as well as countless others who deal

with people every day have an extreme

amount of power and inuence over the

masses. They have the ability to change

the demeanor someone who may start

their day as a happy, nonchalant kind

of person and rapidly turn them into a

nasty, lazy monster (as I became).

In contrast, a barista has the capacity to

li someone up who is down, to make a

good day even greater. The seemingly

small roune of going somewhere to

get your early morning cuppa joe may

seem insignicant however, could have

an overwhelming eect on the world.

Imagine our current Prime Minister

waking up feeling grumpy and friendless

(not hard to envision). He walks into a

cafe and is greeted by a friendly barista,

he orders his caramel frappucino (I assume

that’s what he drinks) and is surprised

at how smooth and creamy it tastes.

He speaks with the sta casually and

honestly and gets an idea of how these

people feel towards certain things.

He walks out of the cafe feeling refreshed

and a lile intrigued. Who knows

what could happen from that day on...

without geng too polical, we could

have marriage equality again, the

environment could be saved, the whole

world could become a lile less corrupted

by a nice lile moment with a barista, a

caramel frappucino and a Prime Minister.

Okay, so I may be exaggerang, but I hope

you get my point...

So to my friend Louie, and to all those

who work in hospitality, retail or any job

dealing with customers and consumers

I say this: you may not be in a career where

you can directly inuence the state of

aairs in the world or be able to physically

save lives every day, but you do have an

overwhelming inuence on a person’s

day. Who knows what could happen

just by ordering that lae, soy at

white or caramel frappucino...

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Image Credit: Coffee - http://www.ickr.com/photos/lamdogjunkie/9599755165 (Altered)

Tony Abbott - Troy Constable Photography™ (Very Altered!)

is a ‘Not For Prot’ Organisation helping to

provide warm clothing to Queensland’s homeless.

KNITTING

for

BRISBANE

’

NEEDY

We seek donations for adults, children and babies. New and old blankets, clothing, beanies,

scarves and gloves, as well as burial outts for babies born “sleeping” are always needed.

Please visit www.knittingforbrisbanesneedy.com.au for more information.

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Image Credit: Anne Worner - http://www.ickr.com/photos/we_ocial/11594354833/

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My internal monologue was getting angsty.

“Come on, hurry up man the train’s not far

away, you’re gonna make me late.”

He says to the barista, “Um yeah…so I think

I want um…well it has to be Bonsoy cause I

don’t drink dairy - have you seen what a cow’s

udder goes through in order to produce milk

so a capitalist white man can make money?

If I get a large coﬀee, what does that say

about my carbon footprint? Oh, and

are your takeaway containers um, like,

bio-degradable?”

I can’t deal with this, it’s a Monday morning,

I need my coﬀee and to catch the next

train. “Listen buddy, if you’re worried about

bio-degradable bring a keep-cup. Drink

dairy because it will save you a dollar - give it

to charity. And no, the coﬀee beans haven’t

been blessed by Tibetan monks” I yelled.

e hipster; what started as a noble cause is

now a contradiction in terms.

My problem with the hipster is not so much

their ideology (although I don’t agree with

them often), it’s the impracticability of said

ideology when applied in reality.

Take the aforementioned coﬀee exchange.

Now the hipster will berate you for enjoying

a coﬀee from a commercial chain that

dominates the market space (can’t name the

coﬀee chain - don’t have the funds to battle

them in court - but you know who I mean).

eir argument goes something like this:

“Yeah man,I just really find it

like,um,super offensive that you

can sip a coffee from a company

that,like,puts profits first and

violates human rights.”

By Luke Tarrant

Independent Media Inspiring Minds

Fair point, but this is all said while holding

the latest mobile phone and carrying a

brand new portable PC (you know the

brands and their human rights record,

can’t name them - don’t want to get sued),

carried in a bag bought online from a

company with a sweat-shop in Asia.

Are you catching what I’m throwing here?

Do you see the problem? In short, they hate

money makers, yet they consume/subscribe

to money makers. ey take the moral high

ground, yet fail to see the plank in their eye.

Ideological inconsistencies are the norm in

their detached world. Ever lived with the

hipster? Please spare yourself if you haven’t…

Wait, stop there, Q&A is on, I must tweet;

“Tony Abbott hates women, I saw him eating

one for breakfast” #QandA

…Sorry, back to it - my inner hipster

temporarily escaped.

Don’t expect punctual rent from the hipster,

money-making-Dad’s weekly handout

hasn’t come through yet and when you’re

a perennial student, working isn’t a high

priority. Oh, and organic products cost more.

Perennial student hipsters – now they’re

fun - “yeah, I’m…at my um, second

university now… like, I just don’t get this

um, conservative notion of pass or like

fail, what’s that?” he said. “Yeah man, it’s

not like easy studying philosophy and um…

writing a PHD trying to deconstruct reality,”

she responded.

e hipsters that do move on from university

move into jobs like advertising, where they

wear their short sleeved, patterned shirts,

buttoned all the way to the top - I mean all

the way to the top - and their deliberately

folded-up skinny chinos that highlight

their ﬂamboyant socks. Don’t forget fake

glasses and facial hair (women included –

possibly because the razor is a sign of

female oppression).

Attire aside, do they realise advertising

is a money-making industry trying to

sell product by any means necessary -

lies, deception and false claims?

Where’s the transparency in that industry

that they so often crave in politics with

regular comments on social media? #auspol.

Maybe I’m not being fair; maybe I don’t

understand life for the hipster in Bondi or

Brunswick (aﬄuent suburbs). It can’t be

easy constantly trying to ﬁnd a lactose-free,

gluten-free, ethically produced, sustainable,

vegan restaurant that directs funds back

to charities.

After a stuﬃng of vegany-goodness

(not too much though - kids are starving), it’s

time to debate their favourite subject; social

causes. Climate change, asylum seekers,

corporate greed and war - don’t argue against

their viewpoint, the hipster will label you

ignorant, a denier or a racist.

It’s interesting for a perceived progressive

person who prides themselves on social

inclusion and equality; the hipster sure

can’t stomach a diﬀering opinion #boycott.

e hipster is willing to travel long and far to

promote their social causes, well, to the inner city

where they live anyway (reachable by ﬁxed-gear

bike). Grab a slab of concrete and sit around during

the working week, Occupy is in town. Trash some

school facilities, to stop education funding

cuts. Oh, and they love online petitions –

Twitter, Facebook they’ll sign it.

Does anybody remember Kony 2012?

e cause went viral, but ﬂopped

in reality. e Kony social media

campaign highlights perfectly the

hipster mentality - do a little but not

a lot (all rhetoric and no action).

e hipster has become so mass

produced, so mainstream, that there’s

nothing individual or unique about it

anymore - an utter contradiction on

what they’re meant to be and stand for.

Let’s consign this phase of our

fashion history to the likes of happy pants,

hyper-colour T-shirts and undercuts - popular

once but the world quickly moved on. Although

the notion that ‘everything in fashion makes a

return’, does scare me somewhat, and not just for

the fashion sense.

Anyway time to go, online social media causes

await me, gotta get my hashtag on. No wait, my

favourite indie band is playing tonight at a small bar

where you can’t reserve a table, with un-matching

furniture, detached uber-cool staﬀ and that means

craft beers cost $14 a bottle. ere’s no point in

you coming, you wouldn’t know the band, they’re

really obscure and not in the charts.

Oh, there’s my inner hipster again.

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Image Credit: Yi Chen - http://www.flickr.com/photos/yiie/6188136649/

Andy Solo - http://www.flickr.com/photos/67271853@N05/7674078034

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“Well, that escalated quickly!”

You hang out every weekend, enjoy the

same hobbies, text most days and you’re

not attracted to them at all… right?

But there was that one fateful night

where you indulged in one too many

drinks, the dance ﬂoor was raging,

the banter was making you giggle and

somehow, all of these components

resulted in a late night bedroom

encounter with your best mate.

You wake up and your mind is racing

with numerous questions…

How did this happen?

Could it happen again?

Do I like him?

Where is my bra?

And the big one:

How do I make sure this

doesn’t get awkward?

Back up from your daydreams for

a minute here.

I don’t want you getting ahead of

yourself and thinking long term with

pets, passionate nights in, wedding

bells and a speech that begins with,

“ey started oﬀ as best mates!”

Your ﬁrst challenge is to make it out

of the house without leaving a crack

the size of the Grand Canyon in your

friendship. It is for this reason that one

needs detailed tips for avoiding post-

intercourse awkwardness.

)

Crack a funny. Make a remark

about the nights activities.

Nothing where you could risk bruising

an ego, so stay away from topics of

size and girth. But take a quote from

Ron Burgundy (every guy knows

Anchorman) and go with something

like, “well that escalated quickly!”

is will break the tension, and you will

both be able to smile and relax about

what happened under the sheets.

)

Be armed and ready for a new

topic. Don’t rush for words to

cover any awkward silences and spread

your verbal diarrhoea all over the

pillow. You have to remember that

this person is, ﬁrst and foremost, your

friend! What about suggesting coﬀee,

or food? No doubt both your heads

are pounding, and this combination

will ease the pain.

)

Don’t tell your mates. Well, you

can tell some, but not all. ere

are a few reasons for this:

)

ey will tease the both of you,

making you both ridiculously

uncomfortable and awkward to the point

where it may impact your friendship.

)

ey will put ideas in your

head about “how great you two

would be together” and say, “it makes

so much sense as you have always been

friends.” We aren’t living in a romantic

comedy, folks.

)

ey will want all the details,

and there are just some things

that not everyone should know about

your personal life.

Once you’re past the initial awkward

stages, give it a couple of days to a week.

en maybe you can think about how

this indiscretion may lead to future

changes in your relationship.

Don’t forget - this is the ‘just once’

scenario (and quite a common one).

ere is also the chance that he will just

roll on top of you for round two…

http://www.flickr.com/photos/17982369@N00/212199721

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LIFE & LOVE

It would seem so. When I hear both women

and men say that they would rather settle for an

unsatisfactory relationship than be alone, I have to

ask why you would want to stay where you are not

happy if you have a choice to move on.

Sure, there are some disadvantages to ying

solo, like having to pay for everything yourself, or

missing out on some invitations because people

don’t know what to do with you if you’re not part of

a couple. Plus, having to do all of the chores and

manual labour yourself can get old pretty quickly

and, rather inconveniently, you don’t have someone

else to go to the shop for some milk when you’ve

run out and haven’t gotten out of your pjs yet…

I know quite a few people (me included!) who

are pretty happy with their single life. They don’t

ARE YOU BETTER OFF ALONE?

BY JOANNE CORRIGAN

Independent Media Inspiring Minds

WHAT IS IT THAT MAKES PEOPLE CHOOSE TO BE SINGLE OR PARTNER UP?

IN PARTICULAR, I WONDER WHY PEOPLE CHOOSE TO STAY IN A RELATIONSHIP

FOR REASONS OTHER THAN THEIR OWN PERSONAL HAPPINESS.

ARE SOME PEOPLE AFRAID OF BEING ON THEIR OWN?

feel that they need a partner to make their lives

complete. There is definitely a sense of satisfaction

and happiness derived from doing one’s own thing.

It’s not that I have anything against being in a

relationship and I can’t say I never want to be in

one again, it’s just that when I think of the things

I really want in my life right now, a partner doesn’t

rank high on the list.

Then there are those who are secretly envious of

the single life, but don’t seem to be able to break

the pattern they are in. I read a quote from Whoopi

Goldberg recently when asked what she wishes

she had known sooner. Her answer was, “I like

being on my own. If I’d gured that out earlier,

I probably wouldn’t have gotten married three

times.” A very wise woman is Whoopi, even if this

particular bit of wisdom took a while to come.

So, those of you who feel you are stuck - take heart.

Finding the ‘perfect’ partner is rarely the Utopia

that fairy tales lead us to believe. Having gone

down the marriage road once, my experience is

evidence of this. While there are some really great

things about being in a relationship, unless it is a

true partnership I don’t see how it can work for me.

I am totally free to make my own decisions and

have no-one else to blame other than myself and

I like it that way.

While I understand that some are trapped in

situations where they fear for their lives if they

leave, or are beaten down physically and mentally

so that they don’t feel they have a choice, this is not

the case for many living in unhappy relationships.

A number seem to stay in relationships purely

for nancial reasons or because they don’t want

the social stigma of divorce. For me there is no

amount of money in the world that would make

me want to stay in an unhappy relationship.

I guess there are exceptions in such circumstances

where real starvation and poverty issues abound,

but in Australia and countries like ours, it does

not make sense. I think what is often the case

with some women is that they think they can’t

provide the lifestyle they want on their own.

This is nonsense because we live in a country

where almost anything is possible. Yes, it may not

be as easy for you as for some others but we have

so many options. And as far as the social stigma

goes, why should we care what people think if they

don’t care about what is best for us?

I really believe that if you are going into and

staying in a relationship for the right reasons then

it can be the best thing for you, but if that’s not why

you are doing it, you have to ask yourself - are you

better off alone?

Read more from Joanne on her blog here:

w ww.joannecorrigan.com

Image Credit: Shandi-lee Cox - http://www.flickr.com/photos/shandilee/4800438606

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LIFE & LOVE

Independent Media Inspiring Minds

LIFE & LOVE

Independent Media Inspiring Minds30

Assorted boxes piled along the

driveway heralded a special day

of the year for mum, dad and

us four kids…an escape from the

searing city heat that was part of

the story of a Melbourne summer

way back when. Tins and packets

crammed together, bright stripy

towels protecting snorkel and

goggle sets…and the one-eyed

bantam rooster. I have absolutely

no recollection of his name though

he probably remained nameless as

was the case with several pets in

our household.

Nevertheless, he held court

over caged canaries, the quails

scratching around in the aviary

up the back, the rabbit in the

hutch, and the cat who sat beside

the hutch every day and later

grieved to the point of losing all

her fur when the rabbit went to

carrot heaven. Little rooster even

stood tall over the aggressive red

Australian terrier who had a habit

of dragging himself along the

ground with a pleased expression!

No other animal on our suburban

block or any other along the street

had the capacity or inclination

to crow so loudly as to wake the

neighbours at 4am each morning

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Independent Media Inspiring Minds 31

(who were again startled some

hours later as my brother revved

up his motorbike and headed

down the drive). Picture a quiet,

leafy, suburban street full of

retirees looking for a life of

repose, interspersed with several

big, boisterous families in an era

where four kids per family was

pretty common.

This day was long anticipated by

all… we were off on our annual

summer holiday at the beach, a

seaside village one and a half

hours from Melbourne. Why we

were taking a chook on holidays

I have absolutely no idea, it was

just one of the many quirky things

considered completely acceptable

in our family. It was only years

later, when chatting with young

adult peers, that I came to realise

that it was more than a little

quirky!

So there we were, nally packed

and ready. Mother, father, the

four kids, the snarly ground

grovelling terrier and the one

eyed bantam rooster. I remember

that particular journey squashed

in the back seat with the chook at

my feet (who had gone into a kind

of self-protective trance), with me

longing to say “are we there yet”

in a world where there were no

McDonalds (can you believe it!) and

a well-practiced ability to think

way more than I spoke. Eventually

we arrived at our holiday house.

I really can’t remember what

the chook actually did with his

day while we holidayed at the

beach… I was way too busy

in my self-indulgent teen life.

However I do remember that after

travelling in his trance-like state,

when arriving at our destination

and being gently placed on the

ground, he sat for quite some

time in the same trance before

letting out a brilliantly loud rooster

crow - enough to impress all the

kids playing cricket in our street.

It certainly elevated our position

amongst our holiday peer network.

I guess he was happy because he

still crowed at 4am each morning

of his beach break. I can’t recall

if our ne feathered friend ever

returned to the beach with us…

his fate faded into oblivion as my

grown up world took precedence

over thinking about our one-eyed

bantam rooster and his menagerie

of animal friends.

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Prior to the ‘chook at the holiday

house’ incident we enjoyed many

years of tent and caravan camping

right on the foreshore in an

adjacent town. We particularly

loved the year dad knocked

together a wooden annexe for

the caravan and we kids erected

a hand painted sign aptly named

‘Lambeth Lair’. The name certainly

sat well with a bunch of teens and

their lairy seventies hairstyles

and fashion! Having commenced

our family camping adventures in

a large tent surrounded by ropes,

poles and pegs, it was quite a step

up to progress to a caravan with

a timber annexe. I got the sense

that we had kind of made it in the

world of caravanners by this stage

of our camping career.

One particular memory stands

out amongst the many as we lived

our communal life in the camping

ground alongside other families,

often people we knew from

previous years. The carnival sat

permanently in the town adjacent

to the camping ground for the

entire holiday season and was

hugely popular with locals and

campers alike. One year, we urged

our dad (who was easily persuaded

to do crazy things), to go in a

‘Spaghetti Eating’ competition. So

there he was sitting at a long table

alongside several other blokes – yes,

only the blokes opted for this kind

of entertainment while the wives

with their immaculate ‘60s hair

styles stood well back, hoping not

to be recognised yet being secretly

supportive. Out came the steaming

bowls of spaghetti heaped high

with chunky bolognaise sauce.

The eager competitors hopped

into the fare egged on by their

enthusiastic kids, while wives

LIFE & LOVE

Independent Media Inspiring Minds

looked on nervously. At this point,

I should mention that it was a

‘hands behind the back, no cutlery

kind of affair’! Dad did pretty

well coming in at about second or

third and we were mighty proud

of him, though mum still looked

unconvinced. We clapped and

cheered and laughed a lot that night,

with this memory logged alongside

several other epic legends within

our family. Unfortunately dad was

caravan bound for several days as

he avoided the sun’s rays due to

a burnt mouth! Nevertheless he

thought it was devilishly fun and

worth the painful consequences.

We urged him to sign up to next

year’s comp, but my mother wasn’t

sold on the idea. In our eyes he

was a real ‘Camp Legend!’

Another family camping moment

which stands the test of time was

when we camped alongside friends

at a large inland lake back in the

days when lakes were still full of

water. Every day, rain, hail, shine,

not to mention wind, we kids

got to go water skiing. Somehow

our family friends convinced my

father to have a go and something

told us that this was not going to

pan out well. After all, we did

have a memory bank of incidents

where things turned a little pear-

shaped, such as the time my

brother’s brand new dragster bike

bucked dad off rather violently,

though that’s another story.

Anyway, great credit to my father,

he kits up in the life jacket,

feet in skis, hands on rope handles,

a brief listen to instructions for

beginners (and I mean brief).

Predictably, it did not work out in

my dad’s favour, as skiing without

your glasses on when you can’t see

Image Credits: Family - http://www.flickr.com/photos/mrmorodo/7325976180

Rooster - http://www.flickr.com/photos/anduin_andorian/6829778300

Spaghetti - http://www.flickr.com/photos/jeffreyww/5822501094

Independent Media Inspiring Minds34

and have no idea of what is going

on is hazardous to say the least,

especially on a large windblown

lake. We all watched horried

as he bounced across the choppy

waters taking in mouthfuls of the

murky stuff. We yelled (from land

and boat) in vain for him to let go

of the ropes, though he never did,

as he skimmed across the vastness

of the lake… ten points for grit

(think he took in a bit of that too).

I’m guring he learnt two things

that day: never ski again and if

you do, best to stand up on your

skis, as staying down low can be

a pretty unpleasant experience.

What it taught me is that my

dad was willing to give anything

a go, have a laugh at himself

and demonstrated a strength of

character and determination that

has stood him in good stead all

his life. He also taught me that

humour, singing and humming

can get you through some pretty

serious stuff in your life… kind

of turns negativity on its head…

though I’m pretty sure there wasn’t

a whole lot of humming or singing

as he whizzed fast and low across

that lake. He was gaining ‘Camp

Legend’ status in a mighty hurry!

Since my ‘camping with a legend’

days I have mostly indulged in more

luxurious holiday accommodation.

Perhaps this is due to some early

camping traumas, such as the

night a severe storm ripped a

large, lengthy tear in our tent, the

rain soaking us and everything

in it. Storms aside, nothing quite

beats being part of a camping

community enveloped by the

aromas of campre cook-ups,

barbeque dinners and caravan

stews. Then there were the early

morning rises as we listened to the

ice-o ringing his bell and we’d ght

over whose turn it was to haul a

large block of ice back to our ice

chest. Several afternoons a week,

I remember an old guy with a

booming voice driving through

the narrow camp roads informing

us of the evening’s entertainment,

mournful country and western

tunes backing his hefty drawl.

The best part was Christmas Day,

with excited squeals of excitement

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Independent Media Inspiring Minds 35

as scores of kids ran down to the

sea in their new bathers, some

clutching brand new buckets,

spades and cricket sets. Boxing

Day beach cricket reigned supreme

back then just as it does today.

The holidays seemed long and

glorious and full of sunshine,

though in reality there was a fair

bit of woolly wearing. I made a

vow to myself that whatever the

weather I would venture into

the water daily in some form

or another and I did, even if it

was as little as a toe dunk or as

much as paddling a kayak in jeans

and jumper. The ip side was

the annoyance of squeaky camp

stretchers each time someone

turned in bed, the ve cent piece

in the slot for the three minute

hot shower which usually came

out cold, and the desire for a

teen girl to remain clean and well

groomed amongst the sand and

camp grime. However these small

things were overshadowed by the

pluses... the camaraderie, the co-

operative team spirit, establishing

new friendships, young holiday

romances, attempting new skills,

freedom and independence.

During these years we swam, skied,

paddled, rode bikes and horses,

made daily treks to the local

bakery for their wicked cream buns,

consumed our father’s famous

camp stew without complaint, and

played monopoly laughing and

ghting in our competitiveness to

win, which my father usually did

as he had a good natured style of

cheating! Several times a week we

walked down near the pier to the

burger or donut van for supper

and often went to the movies in

the old cinema in town, clutching

a bag of jaffas perfectly rounded

to roll down the aisles. I remember

regular power blackouts however

no one seemed too fussed.

One year I was crazy enough

to enter a ‘Miss Beach Girl’

competition, trussedup in ‘70s

style bikinis, though I won’t be

putting that on my résumé!

Independent Media Inspiring Minds36

I learnt a lot about myself and

lot about my family and friends

during those long summer breaks.

It brought us all closer together

and gave us the strength to face

another year of school, work and

domestics, particularly giving my

poor mother a good rest in order

to cope with another year of four

rowdy kids and all their antics!

I was also fortunate enough to

experience several bush camps.

Though facilities were pretty basic,

I loved the wide open black sky

with an illumination of brilliant

stars in every direction, nature

right at my door, the bird calls

and animal noises of the night…

though green frogs, lizards and an

occasional possum in the shower

block had me a little jumpy!

Whatever your taste, I suggest

you try camping at least once in

your life… after a couple of nights

you won’t care about a bit of dirt

under the ngernails or what your

hair looks like, in fact you won’t

even want to look in a mirror!

Decide what kind of camping most

suits your style… with a large

group of friends at a music festival,

a family caravan adventure,

staying in a cabin, cuddling up in

a cosy tent in a rainforest with

your lover, camping in the bush

or sea or on top of a mountain.

Do it with someone you know, go

alone or even try a guided affair

incorporating a walking adventure.

There is a form of camping to

suit all of us so create your own

Camp Legends and just do it!

Image Credits: The Shack - Mali Reed

Cricket - http://www.flickr.com/photos/laneylou/361063944/

LIFE & LOVE

Independent Media Inspiring Minds 37

Victoria

Lorne Foreshore Caravan Park

2 Great Ocean Rd. Lorne

Ph: 03 5289 1382

Halls Gap Caravan Park

Ph: 03 5356 4251

www.hallsgapcaravanpark.com.au

Tasm ania

Land of the Giants Caravan Park

Mt. Field National Park (just over

1 hour’s drive west of Hobart)

Ph: 03 6288 1149

The Tropics/Cape Tribulation

Camping (rainforest, beach, reef)

www.capetribcamping.com.au

Northern Territory

Caravan and Camping Grounds

Uluru and Surrounds

http://www.travelnt.com/things-to-do/

outdoor-activities/camping.aspx

Queensland

Noosa River Holiday Park

4 Russell St. Noosaville

Ph: 07 5449 7050

Whitsunday Islands National Park

74 idyllic islands!

www.nprsr.qld.gov.au/parks/

whitsunday-islands/camping

You can even go Glamping in Qld!

(Luxury or Glamour Camping)

Rainbow Beach Hire-A-Camp

Fraser Coast Qld

www.rainbow-beach-hire-a-camp.com.au

Independent Media Inspiring Minds

LIFE & LOVE

I believe that the more personal we are in our writing,

the more acceptable it is deemed by society.

Perhaps it’s our own vulnerability that is recognised

by the reader, who is seduced by a connection with

this openness.

In June 2013, I became captivated by the life of Marilyn Monroe.

I admired her strength and puried honesty in most aspects

of her life. But it was her poetry that moved me.

Whilst traipsing through a small, secluded market in Cornwall,

England, I stumbled across ‘Fragment’, a compilation of her

unpublished poetry and intimate letters.

Whilst reading this, it dawned on me that we had something

in common. Her writing exhibited the vivid knowledge and

candid acceptance of her life choices. Healing through

bleeding truth within the lines. Unafraid to admit when things

got hard, her regrets, and what excited her.

Trapped inside her own mind, and yet completely free.

“It’s quiet now and the silence is alone -

except for thunderous rumbling of things unknown -

terror beyond fear.”

Hungry for truth that spoke to me, I found my own voice…

MY HEART IS A GLOBE

BY K. FELICE

Independent Media Inspiring Minds40

Image Credit: K. Felice

Independent Media Inspiring Minds

LIFE & LOVE

The day had come.

Insufcient planning, and a one way ticket.

London, I run to you.

Travel had freed me.

Terminated my past

Aborted the painful memories.

But the numbness would only last the distance.

A lot had changed since that initial booking.

Scattered along the way, I’d gotten lost.

Exhausted every option to remain standing still.

All cards have been folded.

He lay awake in bed, awaiting our goodbye.

Anxious, nervous

Reminded of the ballad I face.

I could feel myself breaking.

3 years

Blinded by a memory

Confusing my feelings with the truth.

Watching time go by in slow motion

And yet tonight, couldn’t have gone faster.

Should I stay-

Should I go-

The past would always be our future

And our future

Would be no more-

So I wiped away every drop of wet imperfection, and I left.

Drowning

and somehow, breathing ne.

24 hours.

Trapped with the problem, without realisation,

I was the solution.

Breaking free-

“I hope you nd what you’re looking for” - I’ll never forget his last words.

We arrived at the airport. Two of my greatest friends.

Reminding me of every reason, not to get on that plane.

Reminiscing

Admiring one another.

For them, I’d be brave.

Where to begin-

I didn’t know if I even knew how.

But high on hopes, I turned and walked away.

Glistening eyes

Afraid to look back. Daunted, they’d see

through this deceiving smile.

Every step after, only made my decision

more obvious

I wouldn’t ght this anymore.

Happiness

More or less.

24 hours in an upright position.

Small conned spaces

2 stopovers

All alone.

Just myself, and what I would later refer to, as the rest of my life.

I need a drink.

London, here I come!

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LIFE & LOVE

Independent Media Inspiring Minds

On the eve of Halloween this year, I came

home from work and my housemate, who

shall remain unnamed to protect their privacy,

suggested we go out and have a glass of red.

I was down in the dumps (boy trouble, what

else!?) and it had been ages since we’d had

a little housemate outing. What a great idea!

I jumped on board straight away. The plan

was to go to a local bar and have one glass of

red over a friendly game of giant Jenga.

The bar was fully decked out in Halloween

decorations. The bar staff had gone all out

with their Halloween costumes and the vibe

was pumping. Housemate and I tucked into

our glasses of red while we waited for the

giant Jenga to become available. When that

glass was nished, there was no question that

a second was to be ordered. It wasn’t until our

third glass that we nally got our turn on the

larger than life game of Jenga. I lost, however

the highlight of the game was denitely when

I inadvertently sent the tower crashing down

onto a nearby guy, who in my mind should

never have been sitting that close to a heated

game of giant Jenga if he didn’t want the tower

to topple down on him!

Glass four soon followed after the game

ended and we continued our discussions

about anything and everything. We got on to

the topic of my ex-boyfriend. If you’re lucky,

I’ll share with you my story about him on another

occasion. He’s a really stand-up guy [insert

sarcastic undertone here]. What Housemate

and I discussed specically was the fact that,

through some terrible twist of fate, the ex had

moved into a house located approximately fty

metres from our house about a month after we’d

moved in! You might wonder how I knew that he

was living there for certain. Well, the fact that

his car was parked out the front of same house

Let me tell you about the time

i egged my ex-boyfriend

s car.

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LIFE & LOVE

for three weeks was pretty damning evidence.

Can you actually believe that? Seriously,

what are the odds? If any readers out there

are total aces at mathematical probability,

I’d love to hear from you!

But I digress. So, I’d pretty much told all my

friends about this horrifying development

(see what I did there? Halloween? Horrifying...

sorry, I’ve digressed again) and they were all

shocked and mortied. More so than me in fact.

They each had their various ideas of revenge

by car-vandalism. His car was always parked

on the street so it was the easiest target.

Let the air out of his tyres, egg his car, key his

car, slash his tyres, get a sledge hammer and

go to town. Now I know what you’re thinking -

I’d like to take this opportunity to remind you

that these were the suggestions of my friends,

not my ideas, and also to give you a bit of

information as to why such extreme reactions

were warranted from them. I won’t go into

all the details, but sufce it to say that this

guy lied, cheated and betrayed my trust for

roughly 3 out of the 6 years we were together.

If you looked up the words ‘scum’ or ‘dirt bag’

in the dictionary, I’m fairly certain there’d be

a picture of him. So, I totally got where my

friends were coming from. It was actually

kind of sweet to know they’d go to those sorts

of extremes for me and I understand their

need for revenge. But I didn’t share that need.

I’d well and truly moved on from all the awful

things this man had done to me. It wasn’t

worth my energy.

But somehow, after four glasses of red

and a sudden onset of brazen and reckless

condence, when my housemate suggested

we egg his car I couldn’t have been more eager!

So without hesitation, we left the bar with the

sole purpose of egging my ex-boyfriend’s car.

We gured that there was a much smaller

chance of getting found out due to the fact

that it was Halloween eve. It was just as likely,

if not more so, that the egging was perpetrated

by local teenage hoodlums. Ha! The victimless

crime! Unless of course you count my ex as a

victim and I can assure you that I don’t.

I had six eggs in the fridge (shame they weren’t

all rotten beyond belief), so we gathered

up three each and set off for the no-good,

dirty, lying, cheater’s car. We ran around the

corner in a drunken state of somewhat silent,

stealthy-ness. The housemate stopped about

ve meters from the vehicle and started

hurling his eggs. I waited until he was done

and then I approached further, until I was less

than three meters away, because I a terrible

thrower. Then I proceeded to pelt the already

egg-covered car with my eggs.

We ran back to our house, giggling like school

girls. Mission accomplished. I know, I know!

What we did was wrong and so immature.

But I’ll tell you right now, it was satisfying as

hell and I’ll bet that there are more than a few

of you reading this that are slightly impressed

with my brazenness and maybe even a little

envious of my ‘accomplishment’!

One might even go as

far as saying it was an

eggxellent revenge.

“this chick is nuts.

That all seems a

touch extreme.“

Image Credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/theilr/3174942093

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LIFE & LOVE

Independent Media Inspiring Minds

There’s a lot of hype right now about

sugar being the new food ‘evil.’

Many claim it is responsible for making us

unhealthy, fat, and some even go so far as to

say it is ‘killing us.’ It feels a bit too déjà vu,

with the ‘dangers’ of fat a few decades ago

causing supermarket shelves to be stocked

with an abundance of ‘fat free’ foods. Only to

be told that fat is not the culprit, but sugar.

There is also a lot of misinformation which is

causing people to make ill-informed decisions

about their health, which scares me.

Let me clear a few things up. Sugar is not evil,

nor is it a ‘poison.’

There are four main types: glucose, fructose,

sucrose and lactose. But there are many,

many other articial sugars such as sorbitol,

stevia etc. commonly considered ‘healthier

(and articial) versions’. Our bodies naturally

produce glucose which we need for cell

production and energy. That’s right, our

bodies need sugar.

So what’s the problem? The problem for the

Western World today is not that we consume

sugar, but that we consume too much, without

realising we are eating way more than our

bodies can handle. What our bodies can’t

burn off as energy we convert to fat.

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LIFE & LOVE

THE SUGARY TRUTH?

BY DAWN MISSO

Image Credit: Emilãine Vieira - http://www.flickr.com/photos/emivieira/8357490489/

It’s pretty simple. You are what you eat.

Banning sugar completely from your diet is

drastic and completely unnecessary. Any good

doctor or nutritionist will back me up on this.

Rather, our focus should be on the quantities

and types of sugar we consume, not a at out

ban.

So who is the badass of sugar? Fructose.

How can this be I hear you ask? It’s a natural

sugar! Because it’s addictive. Also we humans

are born with a sweet spoon in our mouths,

literally. According to scientists we have

a genetic predisposition to favour sugary

things, which you can read more about here.

And so we eat and eat and it becomes a

sugary blur.

Six years ago, I did not really care about sugar,

I didn’t need to. I weighed 45 kilos, a healthy

mum to my beautiful boy and a tness junkie.

Sugar was one of my BFFs. No problemo.

It wasn’t until 2008 when I fell pregnant with

my second child, that I learnt about being truly

mindful of the food I ate.

As the rst pregnancy had gone very smoothly,

I assumed it would be a similar journey with our

second. One of the ‘joys’ of pregnancy is the

number of blood tests an expecting mamma

has to go through. Not fun especially if you’re

not a fan of needles (like me)!

Another routine test performed between

24-28 weeks is called a Glucose Challenge Test

(GCT). For this test, a sickly sweet glucose drink

is given to the expectant mother and the blood

glucose is measured one hour after the drink.

If the blood glucose level is above the normal

level a glucose tolerance test (OGTT) is required,

which involves fasting overnight with several

more blood tests taken at various intervals

over three hours, in order to see how your body

processes sugar.

Unfortunately for me, my GCT reading was

above normal which meant I had to undergo

the OGTT as well. A few days later at my

obstetrician appointment, I was told I had

Gestational Diabetes.

I was gobsmacked…. me?

My prole did not t the ‘at risk’ criteria:

I was not overweight (besides the bulging baby

belly), had no history of type 2 diabetes in

the family, I was in my mid 20s, went to gym

daily and had low blood sugar prior to falling

pregnant. Furthermore I did not experience any

of the symptoms of gestational diabetes.

I was healthy……or so I thought.

My maternal grandmother had type 1 diabetes

which according to Diabetes Australia has

nothing to do with lifestyle, however has a

genetic link. Type 1 means that your pancreas

cannot produce insulin to break down the fats

and sugars in the body, which can be fatal if

left untreated.

In order to live, type 1 diabetics need to inject

insulin before each meal and regularly check

their blood glucose levels with a nger prick

test. However my obstetrician said that my

grandmother’s diabetes had nothing to do with

my gestational diabetes.

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According to my doctor, less than ten precent of expectant

mothers develops gestational diabetes in pregnancy

and that my glucose levels should return to normal

after the baby is born. I would however require

insulin injections and need to take regular

nger prick tests to monitor my glucose levels,

as well as consulting a dietician.

I nearly burst into tears; this is not the

pregnancy journey I had envisioned for myself

and my unborn bub.

Being a budding academic (and super nerd

that I am), I went home and jumped

on the net and read anything and

everything I could nd on gestational

diabetes. I went and bought books

and researched what risks were

involved, what I could do to

ensure a safe pregnancy,

and more importantly, for me,

a healthy baby.

I was surprised to learn that even

though the gestational diabetes would

supposedly ‘disappear’ after the birth of my

baby it did mean that my child and I were at a

fty percent risk of developing type 2 diabetes

later in life. Flashbacks of watching my grandma

inject scarily long needles into her stomach

three times a day with all the complications she

endured over many years terried me, especially

knowing that her medical condition led to her

passing in her mid-60’s.

I had to make a permanent change.

I had to relearn everything about food.

Independent Media Inspiring Minds

LIFE & LOVE

Image Credit: Micah Camara - http://www.flickr.com/photos/21434391@N02/6716861149

Independent Media Inspiring Minds

After appointments with several experts in

gestational diabetes and nutrition, I was given

a list of foods I could not eat during pregnancy

and it was horrendously long.

Now as a pregnant woman, one of the joys is

being able to follow your cravings and eat pretty

much anything your tummy desires, right?

Well my dietician said I need to follow a strict

diet, with minimal processed foods and no

white breads, pastas etc. and most importantly,

NO SUGAR!

“Ok”, I thought, “I can do this; I don’t eat much

of those things anyway.” I began to read labels

of everything I bought from the supermarket

and was astonished to nd out how much

sugar was in everything!

And that was the one thing I had to cut out of

my diet.

It was incredibly overwhelming. How the hell

am I going to do this???

Flash forward to 2014 and there are quitting

sugar programs everywhere; on the net and in

bookstores, proclaiming:

“Sugar is a drug”

“it’s addictive”

“it’s making us fat”

“it is killing us!’”

Discussions about sugar have reached an

international scale thanks to authors like David

Gillespie and Australia’s own Sarah Wilson, who

have devoted time, research and alternatives

to sugar in attempt to get people thinking

more about what we put into our bodies.

Although I don’t necessarily agree with every

single word on the page, it is refreshing to hear

an intelligent and thoughtful exploration of the

topic as well as delicious alternatives.

Sarah Wilson’s I Quit Sugar program is an eight-

week guide to ridding your body of sugar and

replacing it with healthy fats instead. I have had

family and friends who are dedicated followers

and have uncovered a healthier version of

themselves owing to this program.

How I wish this was around when I was

pregnant!

What is great about Gillespie and Wilson’s

work is that it is getting every man and his

dog thinking, talking and debating more about

what we consume and how our bodies react.

They are making it accessible without the

medical mumbo jumbo, which is a big plus

(although I personally love reading the medical

mumbo jumbo!). With a growing obesity crisis in

the developed world, we really need to explore

more about sugar and educate ourselves

about the foods we eat.

Alas, I had to quit sugar cold turkey, no eight-

week wind down just stop.right.then.and.there.

It was hard and I mean really hard.

The white bread and pasta weren’t so much

issue for me, we had rye and wholemeal so

that was okay. But giving up sugar - not just

your pastries, donuts and chocolate - but

the ‘hidden’ sugars in sauces, yoghurts, even

master foods herbs and spices range, was

such a major challenge.

Independent Media Inspiring Minds

LIFE & LOVE

Unlike the I Quit Sugar programs which

recommend getting rid of all sugar in your

home (so you won’t be tempted), I could not

do this. The concept of ‘no sugar’ was alien to

my partner, who would quite happily polish off

some Italian deserts in front of me. So I had to

do this on my own, with sugary temptations still

in my cupboard.

I had days where I would be good - I even kept

a food journal to keep me on track. But after

a week I binged on cinnamon donuts and my

blood sugar skyrocketed. There were many

times like this where I broke, and just had to

have my Cadbury old gold chocolate. But what

kept me mostly sugar free during my pregnancy

was my desire for a healthy pregnancy resulting

in a healthy baby.

Thankfully my daughter was born a healthy

seven and a half pounds and my blood sugars

returned to normal after the birth.

“Hooray!” I thought - I can now go back to eating

anything I want!

But now, post gestational diabetes, I was at

high risk of not only type 1 but also now type 2

diabetes and would need a blood test annually

to ensure I had not developed diabetes.

I had just given birth and was breastfeeding

and all I wanted was a single freakin’ donut!

It took me several months after the birth of

my daughter to realise that this sugar free

lifestyle would need to be a permanent one.

Finding out I also had fructose malabsorption

(an inability to process fructose in the body)

and coeliac disease post birth, really hit home.

Oh the joys of motherhood!

Once I found substitutes for my sugar cravings,

it became so much easier. I became truly

mindful of my food choices and also gave

myself the opportunity to stray once in a while

and have those two pieces of dark chocolate

I enjoyed, but not because I craved them

anymore but because I made the conscious,

deliberate choice to eat it. Unlike the sauces,

spices and other foods I had consumed my

entire life containing ‘hidden’ sugars I did not

I began cooking more and living smarter. I cut

our grocery bill in half and found local farmers

markets to nd fresh produce and limited the

packaged and processed foods I brought into

the home. My husband is not ready to give

up sugar completely yet, so he has a corner

of the pantry just for him. My kids? Well they

do consume sugar too occasionally, however

I have tried to educate them on what sugar is,

which types are ok and which are not, and what

it does to our bodies if we consume too much.

Education really is the key to everything, and

I’m not just saying this because I am a teacher!

Most importantly I have taught my kids to be

more aware of what they put into their mouths

and that food should nourish their growing

bodies. I have overheard my kids saying,

‘no thank you’ to cakes and pastries saying they

feel they have had ‘enough sugar’ for the day.

I have returned to experimenting in the kitchen

more and the kids love coming up with new

sugar free recipes with me. They even gently

remind their dad when he is having too much

sugar - we will win him over yet!

Independent Media Inspiring Minds

So what do we need to do to combat this

sugar demon?

Firstly it is important not to demonise it but

to be aware of the amounts we consume.

It is important to be fully conscious of what we

put in our mouths.

Don’t be tricked into eating ‘hidden’ sugars.

Educate yourself on how to read food labels

and eat as little processed food as possible.

One thing I always tell my students is to be

incredibly critical of everything you hear and

read and make an informed decision for

yourself.

You don’t need to be the next David Gillespie

or Sarah Wilson or to follow their methods

to a tee. Their books provide great guidance

however you need to do what is right for you,

at your pace, your way. Use the information at

hand to guide you through your ‘food mindful’

journey.

Food mindfulness is crucial to good health

and we are all capable of doing this. It is not

expensive and it is not hard. It just takes time

and patience, plus a bit of effort. With the

new year here it is as good a time as any to put

that little bit of effort into you - your body, your

health, your life.

Don’t get me wrong, I eat sugar and when

I do I enjoy it. But I do not crave it. If I eat it

I don’t feel bad or guilty, like I need to run for an

hour to burn it off. The guilt for ‘being bad’ and

eating something sweet is something Wilson

often writes about which I strongly disagree

with. Why? Because guilt leads to feeling low,

that you have made a bad decision. This can

lead to a whole can of worms on how you view

food and can create a binge like relationship

which is incredibly dangerous.

That is why I believe a complete and utter ban

is not only unnecessary but also unhealthy.

Think of the prohibition era - the more you draw

that red circle around something with a red line

through it, the more you want it and the more

horrible you feel if you have it. It is okay to eat

sugar, as long as you are mindful that you are

eating it.

Back to diabetes - do I have it? No, not yet.

Will I get it? How many Tim Tams are in a packet?

(I used to be able to answer this question but

now I have no idea). I do not know if it will

happen, but I am being proactive with diet and

exercise in the hope that I will not develop this

disease.

It may sound strange, however I am actually

grateful that I ended up with gestational

diabetes, because it has made me aware, it

has made me question, and it has made me

change for the better. I am healthier now than

I have ever been, largely due to making the

choice to be mindful of the sugars I consume.

Follow Dawn on instagram

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•

Image Credit: Sean Molin - http://www.flickr.com/photos/31348155@N03/4647611001

Independent Media Inspiring Minds

LIFE & LOVE

Independent Media Inspiring Minds

LIFE & LOVE

Independent Media Inspiring Minds

TALES FROM THE CAMINO

BY KAT FITZPATRICK

I’m slogging through mud, mud,

and more mud with the odd

blackberry bush snagging my

pants with its thorny branches,

while the rain keeps bucketing

down. I’m in my waterproof

jacket and horrendously

unflattering rain pants that

go ‘swish, swish, swish’ and

are slowly driving me insane

with every step. The rain is

misting upon my face from

heavy grey skies, my fingers

are numb from the cold, as

they continuously drip with the

trails of water oozing from my

sleeves. I can’t look up without

getting rain in my eyes so

my view is of very wet hiking

shoes crunching on the gravel,

at times balancing on slippery

rocks. I’m concentrating hard

to make sure I don’t fall over

or saturate my feet any further

in yet another puddle… and I

couldn’t be happier.

Welcome to the Camino De

Santiago, a Christian Pilgrimage

dating back to medieval times,

where pilgrims trekked hundreds

or sometimes thousands of

kilometres to absolve sins

and worship at the bones of

Saint James in the city of

Santiago de Compostela, Spain.

I recently trekked 700 km from

a southern Portuguese town

called Santarem to Santiago

and then onto the coastal

Spanish town of Finisterre.

My only companion? My

70-year-old father. Call me

crazy, but I did this for fun.

So why would a sane 30-year-

old from Australia do this?

And with her Dad? Well, I must

admit, we aren’t new to this.

Back in 2006, I thought my

Dad was absolutely bonkers

when he walked 800 km

across Northern Spain on the