Sunday, August 25, 2019

DIY Frame Upcycles




If you read my last post, you’ll know that my credit cards were confiscated by Mark, which means I’m basically broke as because my salary does not cover all the luxuries I usually surround myself with on a monthly basis.  No new clothes, new make-up, new anything unless it’s a necessity.  It’s safe to say that I am not having a good time right now. 

That said, my most recent YouTube indulgences have been DIY videos (I’m looking at you, Sorry Girls) so I decided to try my hand a little home decor DIY to satisfy my craving for something “new”.  I’ve been planning to do something like this for a while and today the house was empty, so I decided to take the leap. 

So, as you can see in my header, I made these two photo frames, one with a hamsa and one with the hamsa prayer (because hamsas are life).  I originally planned on three frames in order to satiate my OCD need for items to be in multiples of 3, but one of the glass frames broke when we were trying to get it out of the frame to spray paint it.  Don’t worry: Jen still has all of her fingers.  I’m going to show you two different ways to upcycle old photo frames to brand new modern decor. 

My parents were positive reinforcers so growing up, if I got a certificate for anything, that baby went up on my wall.  That’s why my mom has stacks of plain wooden A4 frames.  I started by spray painting the frames copper because the style of the wooden frames were a smidge dated (I grew up in the 90s/early 2000s). 
For spray painting on the third floor of a building, I covered up the folds of a big box that we had left from our new microwave a few months ago.  Our balcony is enclosed, so I opened all the windows and held my breath between sprays.  I know it smells nice, but do not inhale the fumes from the spray paint.  It's not healthy.  If you can, I'd recommend that you do this outdoors but I sure as nuts was not carrying all this shit down to the parking lot or the garden.  

I bought a roll of wrapping paper from Woolies – we gettin’ fancy here – as my background for my frames.  The entrance hall has a greenish theme to it so I went with this leafy print to tie it all in.  Measure the amount you need and cover the frame backing like a birthday present.  I used masking tape which can be removed fairly easily, in case we ever redecorate and want to go with a different colour theme. 




Option 1
For a more interchangeable design, you can add your design or image directly to the wrapping paper on the frame backing.  I used a hamsa I already have to trace and cut it out to stick down.  I originally outlined it with a fine liner but felt that it needed a bit more so ended up going over it with a 1.5mm marker.  I wasn’t going to add any decoration but then decided to add the nazar design to the eye for consistency. 



Option 2
If you’re going to have something more permanent, you can print out a design/lettering and use a paint marker to trace the design directly onto the glass, like I’ve done with the hamsa prayer. 

As a heads up, paint markers are finicky little bitches so go really slowly, don’t press too hard to release too much paint at once.  I decided to do a second coat, which was really difficult.  The paint is quite thick so it can get streaky if you work too quickly.  I blow dried my work before I did the second coat and before I put the glass in the frame. 



If I’m honest, I actually prefer the paint marker on the glass.  I may eventually redo the hamsa to something similar, but I imagine that would be much harder given the amount of paint needed.  I really enjoyed this and would definitely recommend this for a quick and easy upgrade to your decor if you need to freshen up your surroundings. 

Wishing you love and light until next time ♡♡♡

Tuesday, August 13, 2019

I moved out



Last weekend I officially moved the last of my stuff out of my childhood home and also handed over my credit cards to my partner because apparently I have to be an adult now that my mommy doesn’t look after me.  Rude, but ok. 

Since I’ve hit the Great Wall of China made of writer’s block, I thought I’d give you a little breakdown of my experience in moving in with my boyfriend and starter pack family.

1.     When did I become Jewish?
Look, I’ve always had a particular interest in Middle Eastern politics and cultures, but I can’t say exactly when I absorbed a shit ton of Yiddish slang and downloaded the Jewish holiday calendar to my online schedule.  I’ve even reattached our missing mezuzah and started wishing colleagues “good shabbes” on Fridays.  

2.     Teenagers scare the living shit out me.
If you don’t get this reference, we can’t be friends.  Or I’m significantly older than you.  I’m also saying this as someone blessed with relatively good stepkids.  The worst mine do is steal my parking spot or create a stockpile of half empty shampoo and conditioner bottles in the shower.  And we can go for dranks.  Good luck to the rest of you.

3.     He might be mature, but that makes him more stubborn.
I wouldn’t trade Mark for all the 30 year old in the world, but I’d do a lot of bad things for an iota of flexibility on his part.  The picture below is titled “I want a headboard”.  You can deduce the rest of the conversation from this point. 


4.     I have a lot of clothes.
My poor wardrobe has been dramatically thinned since my move, because firstly, there’s not enough space for me to have brought all of my clothes and secondly, I am no longer adding to my wardrobe. 

5.    Swedish tribal music played on instruments made from animal bones is a thing.
That is all.

Jokes aside, this has been a massive transition for me.  Leaving my mom, my best friend, and everything I know in the South (because it actually is really far to travel – going north never seemed so bad).  Moving my books and desk felt “final”. 

I’ve realised that I was clinging to my home with my mom because that’s where all my memories of my dad are: Dad fighting a marmosette monkey to get the pool in summer, Dad sleeping in his office chair or in the lounge with the newspaper next to him, Dad falling down the stairs every second week, Dad’s shoes tripping me in the lounge.  It’s also where all my injuries happened, where my sister and I grew up playing and where we lost everything in a single night. 

#418 is exactly where I fit in with effort.  My party trick of sleeping through nuclear blasts turned out to be the best match for Mark, who games until early hours of the morning at his station in our room.  My wardrobe and the girls’ are almost entirely interchangeable, as well as our makeup and beauty products. 

#418 was already a home when I got here.  It just had a Muffins-sized space available for me to fill.  I may have moved out from home, but I’ve moved into another.  There is no discontinuity of the warmth of home that I love most.

Wishing you love and light ♡♡♡

Thursday, March 21, 2019

Leave Caster Alone




Disclaimer: This post contains strictly my own views and is based solely on the facts I had available to me at the time of writing.  If you don’t like it, keep it moving.  

Also, Mark, we are not debating this again. 

If it’s one thing that makes my blood boil, it’s the long, creepy fingers of patriarchal organisations that try to keep the underdog down.  Needless to say, the Caster Semenya case against the IAAF is a prime example of this and instead of indulging in another internet fight, I have decided that this can be used as an excellent example to educate people about intersectional feminism and why the IAAF are a bunch of assholes.  There, I said it. 

First off, let me give you a little background into intersectional feminism.  Back in 1989, KimberlĂ© Crenshaw figured out that even in marginalised groups of society, there were groups that were further marginalised based on certain aspects.  For example, we love to talk about the early feminist leaders like Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Susan B. Anthony, both of whom were ardent suffragettes in the United States.  While their work is noteworthy and laudable, women of colour were excluded from the movement based on their skin colour and their social status.  In short, intersectionality is where there is discrimination on more than one basis of discrimination. 

Back to Caster...


Caster is a national treasure, in my opinion.  She has the potential to be discriminated toward on almost every level possible and yet she fights back with the strength and grace only a woman could have.  Everything about her, down to her own biology, is questioned and doubted, but still she rises. 

Fighting the Patriarchy
It should be clear without saying that by being a woman and fighting against a sports body, Caster is already up against mountains of institutionalised misogyny.  Never forget that for a larger part of history, women were not allowed to compete in any kind of sporting competition.  Kathrine Switzer’s fight to run the Boston Marathon with men in 1967 is a perfect example of this.  You’d think in 52 years we’d have learnt something, yet most recently cyclist Nicole Hanselmann was stopped in the Omloop Het Nieuwsblad race in Belgium because she had caught up with the men’s race support vehicles, despite the men having a 10 minute head start.  Let’s not even discuss Serena Williams’ treatment by officials during the Australian Open this year.


Caster Semenya’s birth certificate is unequivocal: she is female, as identified at birth.  She has female sex organs and identifies as a woman.  She is therefore a woman.  By forcing her to take medication to reduce something her body produces naturally, the IAAF is attempting to control her body in the interests of “fair competition”.  It is Caster’s right to exist as she naturally is, as per the United Nations’ Universal Declaration of Human Rights (specifically Articles 2, 3 and 7, which can be found here).  Every single judge of the Court of Arbitration for Sports is from a Country belonging to the UN and so is South Africa, which entitles Caster to these inalienable rights. 

This is also not the first time that the IAAF and international sporting bodies have called women’s “femaleness” into question.  Gender testing was initially proposed during the 1936 Olympics in Berlin after two field athletes, one Czech and one English, presented as distinctly male.  Both, however, later had gender reassignment surgery and identified as male.  The testing itself was formally introduced by the IAAF (surprise, surprise) in 1950, where female athletes were forced to parade naked and be physically examined by physicians, which included a variety of degrading and inhumane tests such vaginal examinations and clitoral stimulation.  This disgusting practice was later introduced by the International Olympic Committee in 1968, where they began testing for Y-chromosomes in all athletes (which is not entirely conclusive).  Gender verification testing was continued until as late as 1992. 

It is clear from this that sporting bodies, regardless of the discipline, have consistently prejudiced women who are not distinctly “female” or “feminine”. 

But is it racism?
Let me start by acknowledging that the first intersex person banned for life by the IAAF (actually for refusing to be tested) was a Dutch athlete named Foekje Dillema and she was white.  That being said, this was in 1950 before African nations began competing from 1960 onwards.  Other white women who were either banned from competing or stripped of their medals came primarily from Eastern European countries. 

The most recent cases, however, are limited to athletes of colour, including Caster Semenya and Dutee Chand of India, who most notably won her case against the IAAF in 2012. 


Further consideration should be given to the current world record-holder in the women’s 800m event: Jarmila Kratochvilova of the Czech Republic.  Her time of 1:53:58 at the 1983 Olympics remains unbeaten to this day – not even by Caster, who allegedly has an unfair advantage over other women.  Her physique does not differ significantly from Caster’s – in fact, I would say her legs are more muscular.  I can accept the argument about the heavy doping strategies of the Eastern Bloc prior to the fall of the Iron Curtain, but that begs the question: why is this record not wiped if it was allegedly achieved unfairly?  Kratochvilova has consistently denied the use of anabolic steroids, but while there are still rumours and suspicions, she is taken at her word.  Compare this to the treatment of Caster whose privacy was significantly infringed on to reveal her medical records, yet her performance is still questioned. 


Another point of consideration is Caster’s accusers, most notably Lynsey Sharp of Britain, who came 6th in the 800m final event at the 2016 Rio Olympics, where Caster came first.  I agree that this could simply be a sour grapes response, except for one glaringly racist fact: she didn’t complain about Caster only.  She complained about the second and third place competitors too, Francine Niyonsaba of Burundi and Margaret Wambui of Kenya.  She complained that all three, but specifically Caster, had unfair advantages because of their masculine physiques. 

If you review the times each competitor in the Final event achieved in the qualifying heats, Lynsey Sharp achieved 2:00.83, while Caster only beat her time, by running in her own event in 1:59.31 – fractions of a second.  Moreover, during the heats, Caster’s was not even the best time recorded (it was, in fact, the 5th best time out of all 8 heats).  In the semi-final where Caster and Lynsey faced off before the Final, Caster beat Lynsey by a mere half of a second.  There are obviously tactics and strategies employed by athletes as it relates to qualifiers and semi-finals, but the fact of the matter is, the difference in their times do not support her claims of an unfair advantage – their times are very much aligned with normal competition. 


Having regard to the above, it is my firm belief that Lynsey Sharp’s outrage was not only about being a sore loser, but also a thinly veiled attempt to further suppress athletes of colour who threaten the balance of white privilege in professional sports.  The 5th place competitor in the race, Joanna Jozwik of Poland, actually stated in her post-race interview that she was the “first European” and “second white” in the race, implying (at least to me) that the three winners were negligible due to their alleged advantages. 


It’s no secret that black people are physically more suited to sports and activities where their strength and stamina are tested.  However, white people have long dominated formal competitions due to the political power that they exercised over black people for so long.  It is my view that this IAAF case against Caster is also a racial issue. 

Classism is real too
Oh, yes, there’s another level of this hole and that is the classism and elitism that exists amongst professional athletes regardless of their discipline. 


Caster Semenya was born in Ga-Masehlong, near Polokwane in Limpopo Province.  It is essentially 10 streets wide and 8 roads long.  While perhaps not an informal settlement, Caster certainly did not grow up with an influence.  Following her breakout success in 2008 and the various associated attention it garnered, Caster was able to improve her times in 2009 by huge leaps: 25 seconds in the 1500m event and 8 seconds in the 800m event.  She was thus tested for doping, which revealed her intersex nature (and also completely and inappropriately invaded her right to privacy). 

What changed so dramatically in 1 year?  Did Caster’s ovotestes suddenly kick in?  No, she got famous and a whole lot of sponsorships came in.  Sponsorships mean money and money means better access to equipment and resources for training.  Her performance improved when she could train for longer periods and eat the right foods and hire the best coaches available.  Similarly, as she got better and better, she received more and more in sponsorships, resulting in her being able to afford better training facilities. 

Her biology undoubtedly gives her an advantage in competition, but no more than a 2m tall basketball player or Michael Phelps and his size 14 flipper feet.  Caster has become a world champion by using her physical gifts in combination with the fruits of her labours to get better training.  Never forget that she is NOT the world record-holder and that her times have not always been so vastly different from her competitors. 

The reason I have written this post is because this matter makes me so angry when I discuss it: I feel like Caster’s hard work is utterly disregarded because people refuse to look past her biological differences.  I know this is controversial and highly politicised, but I must remind you that these are simply the views I have based on the facts I have.  A lot of research and effort has gone into this post because I would never want to publish a damaging opinion.  That said, my email address is on my ‘contact’ page and I invite you to engage privately me if you wish.  I will not, however, tolerate abuse about the subject. 

I always end my posts wishing you love and light, but this week I am directing all the love and light I can channel to Caster as the Court of Arbitration will provide their findings on the matter by 26 March 2019. 

Until next time ♡♡♡

Side note: All those Julius Malema jokes about “Caster Semenya, he is a woman” are not funny: not just because it trivialises Caster’s battle but it’s also racist to make fun of a person’s ability to speak a language other than their mother tongue.  Julius Malema is a dick when it comes to his policies, beliefs and actions, but it’s still not cool to make fun of him speaking a second language. 
That is all. 

Friday, March 15, 2019

#OvernightMom




When I was in my previous relationship, I imagined myself as having my own children and raising them to be insufferable know-it-alls like me.  I loved the idea of planning birthday parties and nursery decor to my own aesthetic and impressing it on them.  I dreaded the thought of a Gemini baby, because you know...Geminis. 

And that was the way I believed my relationship was heading.  My ex had literally proposed to me instead of asking me out like a normal person, so getting married and having kids was always a topic of conversation for us. 
Don’t judge me.  I know how absolutely ridiculous that sounds.


Fast forward 5 years later, 1 year on from my break up, and those dreams are the furthest things from my mind.  My partner is 51 with two teenage daughters, 19 and 16, and I am now an overnight mom.  No nappies or kissing booboos or teaching them to tie shoelaces.  My life is now balancing the vibe in a house with two emotional teenagers and threatening to phone the mothers of boys who harass them. 

My life has turned into having to be an adult for a change: I can’t lose my shit every time the girls leave their dishes in the lounge or use all the towels in the house.  I’m no longer the independent, selfish person I once was.  I have a whole family unit to consider when making decisions. 

What’s strangest of all to me is that the longer I spend with these girls, the less I think about my dream of having my own baby.  Mark and I have been together now for over a year and I have developed such an incredible bond with Jenna and Jamie that having a child of my own seems redundant.  If parenting is all about loving another small human with everything you have, then I’m already there. 

I’m not trying to fill the mother role in our home because the girls already have a great Mom.  I just get to be the “Responsible Adult” in the home who kind of looks like she fits in that role, which I’m ok with except when I don’t want to be the Responsible Adult, in which case I usually just descend into a fit of baby talk and make very poor financial decisions. 

Basically, having Jenna and Jamie means I get all the perks of parenting with the ability to tap out when shit gets real (like teenage bitch fits – ain’t nobody got time for that).  I don’t have to teach them how to use the toilet, only how to screw a bleeping lid back on to the toothpaste tube.  I don’t have to teach them how to use a spoon, only how to pick their dishes up and put them in the sink. 

Sometimes you may not get to live your dream, but instead you get to live a new dream that’s even better than the first. 

That’s how I became an #OvernightMom. 

Light and love ♡♡♡

Sunday, December 9, 2018

The height of my heel obsession



Thank goodness for the #Instafam.  If it wasn’t for one of them, I would literally have nothing to post about because writer’s block is somewhat an understatement for what I’m experiencing.  Basically, in short, I was asked to do a feature on all the heels I own. 

These were the first heels I was bought when I was in Grade 10 for a Debutantes Ball that I was attending with another guest of the ball.  I clearly remember buying these at Foschini The Glen with my dad after school one day and they’re super cute so...
 

Next are the heels I wore to my matric dance and after party, 11 years ago.  I’ve reheeled the gold ones and I don’t wear them so much anymore, but I may need super fancy shoes one day again. 


After matric, I lost a lot of weight and I dropped a shoe size to a size 5.  Don’t ask me how it happened.  All I know is one day my feet were a size 6 and then they were not. 

So that’s where these babies come in.  It was around about this time that my Nana moved into her retirement village and she gave me all of her heels because I was the only one with similar sized feet to her.  That’s how I ended up with these Laura Ashley courts.  I am obsessed with the brogue pattern on the front and always feel ultra corporate when I wear these. 

Then I started working and the age of the Sissy Boy platform began.  That’s right, these are all platform heels that I wore to work every day.  I was absolutely obsessed. 
 I also bought these Guess babies as a gift from my mom. 
 
And also these Steve Madden Barbie shoes, because you know...why not?

Other heels I bought more than 6 years ago:

The year I resigned, I started dating my ex who had the misfortune of being under 6”, unlike the rest of the family.  Whether it was the steroids or not, we’ll never know.  My misfortune, however, was that he was intensely insecure and jealous, and therefore did not “let” me wear my heels anymore.  He even went so far as to not talk to me the entire day of one of my closest friend’s funeral because I wore heels (and also greeted another guy who he supposedly didn’t like – but I digress). 

Flash forward 5 years and I was 85kg lighter.  I’d also shed a huge amount of self-doubt and lack of confidence following that break up so I started buying and wearing heels again.  I don’t spend the same amount of money on shoes as I used to, but I wear these by far more regularly. 
You may recognise these from a recent Instagram post

The standard black strappy heel to go with any outfit

It's so fluffy I want to DIE!

The most comfortable standard black midi-heeled court from H&M

I can both hora and Zorba in these heels - tried and tested

Fringe benefits
 Lastly, these are my most prized shoes.  Yes, they look like it’s been a rough few years but these were also given to me by my Nana.  I can’t say if this is true or not, but my Nana told me that my Grandpa bought these for her before my mom was born.  I am in love with the vintage vibe and the entire design.  Incidentally, they are also the most comfortable of the heels I own. 

I actually cleaned out some of my heels that I no longer wear - such as these really cute pump wedges that have absolutely no grip whatsoever and regularly try to kill me when I wear them and the black courts I was obsessed with before my cousin jammed her size 7 foot in them and permanently disfigured them.  

I know that while this may not appeal to everyone, I know that at the very least @sa_toes_an_heels on Instagram will appreciate the post.  Give me a shout on Instagram if there's anything else I could showcase (NB: limited to sneaks, books and bikinis)

By the way, I didn't put any of these shoes on for photos because that just seemed like a lot of hard work for a Sunday night.  

Wishing you love and light until next time ♡♡♡

PS. I may a shopping problem



Sunday, November 25, 2018

I don't think you're ready for this jelly



First of all, what are you people even doing these days?  My day job has been a nightmare with back to back cases and I’ve been working almost non-stop.  Can you just not misbehave for like 5 minutes so I can catch my breath and have a chance to talk to about things I outside of HR?  Please and thank you. 
Side note: I was at the shops on Black Friday and I saw all of you bunking work.  I hope you all have medical certificates.  #justsaying

More importantly, regarding today’s topic of discussion, am I giving away my age by automatically equating gel/jelly products with jelly shoes of the 90’s?  My mind instantly goes to pre-school days when all the cool kids had jelly shoes, which I don’t think I ever owned because they had heels on them.  It then switches over to the early 2000’s when everyone had Rider slides, which is a period I like to neglect in the dark recesses of my memory bank (except for my pair of white and blue Nike Cortez sneaks – those were hot as).

I realised recently that I have been using a lot of gel/jelly products as well, because it’s been absolutely melting lately and also, I have oily skin so I automatically steer towards gel water-based products any way.  I’ve compiled a list of my favourite gel products for this summer. 

Neutrogena Hydro Boost Water Gel Moisturiser
You should surely know that I have been a long time Clinique devotee, so if anything can change my mind about my basic 3 step program, it must be amazing.  
Well, this water gel moisturiser is amazing.  It’s light on the skin and quickly absorbed, with all the benefits of a regular oil based moisturiser.  It also comes in at around R150, which is dramatically cheaper than my previous moisturiser (only die-hard Clinique fans will get the pun there).  So that’s a huge bonus too. 

Johnson’s Fresh Hydration Micellar Cleansing Jelly
One of the advantages of inheriting beauty obsessed teenage daughters from your partner is that they buy a lot of things that I can test out before buying for myself if I like it.  A few weeks ago, Jenna bought this product and because of an alleged cricket infestation in the girls’ bathroom, left it in ours.  So I gave it a shot and I absolutely love it.  I don’t use it as my daily cleanser, but rather use it to rinse of all my makeup before using my cleanser.  It’s not 100% effective, especially over the eyes but it makes a pretty large dent and micellar water smells like the time I almost died with Poncho’s tequila, so it’s the real winner. 
I believe I paid around R60.00 for the 200ml bottle.
Also, it’s roses so...

Bio-Oil Dry Skin Gel
My love for Bio-Oil runs deep already, but this little baby has truly changed the game.  While I still occasionally cleanse my skin with Bio Oil before I wash my face, I add a dab of this gel to my moisturiser every night.  I always worry that I’ll dry out my skin by constantly using oily skin products, so this is my true peace mind. 
Just don’t pay too much attention to the price tag.  Yes, it’s steep (I think the little 50ml tub I bought was like R90 – I may be wrong) but a little truly goes a long way. 

The Body Shop Drops of Light Pure Resurfacing Liquid Peel
I’m not saying I bought this because of the white and metallic pink bottle, but...
No, actually I’m obsessed with any product that offers brightening effects or anything that says “glow”. 
This product is really confusing because it’s the quickest mini peel ever.  Two pumps onto your fingers, massage onto your face until you get yucky flakes all over and rinse.  That’s it.  The effects, however, speak for themselves and your skin is left baby soft and dewy.  I prefer using this after I’ve spent the day in a full face of makeup, just because I feel that my skin is 100% clean afterwards and I don’t have any chance of blocked pores that I may have missed. 

Silver Genesis Super HydroGel
You know the dad in My Big Fat Greek Wedding and how his miracle cure-all is Windex?
My grandpa was like that with Vicks (which by the way, is also my go-to for most problems).  It didn’t matter if it was a blocked nose or a cut that should have had at least 9 stitches, he just lathered on the Vicks and waited for it to heal. 

So everyone, especially slightly older *cough* gentlemen, have their thing, right?

Super HydroGel is my boyfriend’s thing.  He’s been using this stuff for a while and uses it for everything, and now I do to.  It’s list of uses range from acne to skin cancer (which is a very bold claim, but ok).  It’s made of seaweed extract, aloe ferox, carrot and lavender oil and “energised using nano silver technology”, whatever that means. 
All I know is that this stuff if absolutely amazing.  I’ve totally eliminated any kind of skin texture of my face by adding a squeeze of this stuff to my morning moisturiser.  I also put it over my cuticles after a manicure because they tend to get a little sensitive.  It’s also my go-to tattoo after treatment. 
Like I said, this can be used for everything. 

BONUS ROUND: The Silisponge
Enough said. 

Life has been crazy busy since I last blogged.  I’ve since attended two movie premieres (Bohemian Rhapsody and Creed 2 – with thanks to fellow blogger, the beautiful Melanie Pretorius), work has been non-stop with back-to-back cases because people don’t know how to act at work apparently, I’ve gone back to gym, I’m no longer blonde and I’ve even bought my dream car.  I’d love for you to engage with me on my Instagram and let me know what kind of content you’d be keen for, in terms of movie reviews or other kinds of lifestyle posts. 

Wishing you love and light until next time ♡♡♡