Would You Like Seconds With That?

Photo by Vidal Balielo Jr. on Pexels.com

Nothing irritates me more than being asked if I would like anything else when I’ve only just taken the first bite of my meal. Let me taste my food, chew, swallow, take a moment to digest, and THEN you can ask me if I would like ‘contorni’, ‘secondi’ or ‘dolci’. Nothing chokes me up more than being abruptly asked when am I having a second child.

Like so many women these days, I chose to put certain priorities ahead in my twenties and early thirties such as career and travel. I was never the ‘motherly’ type by definition and for most of my teenage and adult life, I envisaged a future of work, travel and fur babies. In fact, for a long time, having children was a hard no. If someone asked me the dreaded ‘do you want children?’ question, I would swiftly brush it off. All around me though, I am surrounded by what I call ‘superwomen’. By my definition, ‘Superwomen’ are not those working mums who step out of the house five days a week and drop their bub at daycare. Let’s be honest here mums, what’s more challenging on the soul and psyche? Eight hours of mothering or eight hours of work? Yes- ‘Superwomen’ are those mum’s who are fully- and I mean FULLY immersed in motherhood. They are there all day every day every day and they do not need to ‘escape’. They are there. Just like our mum’s, they don’t work because motherhood is their life, their job and their soul purpose. There is no Au Pair- they are home bodies and they do it all. In fact, many I know don’t even own gym memberships and Instead they squat at home with their baby’s held to their chest, followed by the proud Instagram post. These women always dreamed of a life filled with multiple dimpled butts and gummy smiles. While I was busy planning the next trip, changing my career for the third time and dancing until 4am, some of my closest women- the ‘superwomen’ of my world were growing humans and leading a life that I could never imagine myself living. I guess I kind of assumed that I wouldn’t take the path to motherhood ever, because as I passed the age of 30, my priorities didn’t shift and while I had always been a romantic, getting married was a given, but having children was not.

Becoming a mum did happen for me- it was a huge decision, and even then, I never really fully ‘made the decision’. In my early thirties, I developed mixed thoughts and feelings around ‘potential’ motherhood. After a visit with a very abrupt gynaecologist at 33 to get an IUD, I was told my egg count was ‘low’. For a 33 year old, this is a confronting statement, and because I wasn’t ‘there’ yet, I just accepted the comments and trusted that the universe would give me what I needed. Being someone who prefers the natural approach to so many things in life, freezing my eggs was not an option. As I also believe in the old adage ‘things happen for a reason’, it was easy to develop the mindset that if I wasn’t cut out to be a mum, then I wasn’t cut out to be a mum.

When I fell pregnant at 35 after only one month off the pill, it was a shock. And while I had decided that I was excited to take the next step with my partner, I didn’t exactly feel ecstatic to be pregnant. My first words were ‘oh fuck’ followed by tipping out the bottle of wine on the kitchen bench and a phonecall to my best girlfriend where I proceeded to say ‘fuck fuck fuck fuck i’m fucking pregnant’. But I promptly accepted the gift that is life and immersed myself in the journey of motherhood. I treasured that tiny soul inside of me like she was my universe and I even enjoyed the journey of pregnancy. Yes, I was finally at a stage in my life and relationship where I felt comfortable in all aspects of my life. My career was established, I was fit and healthy and I had done the work.

Fast forward eighteen months into my motherhood journey, and the question of number two lingers, heightened by the external nudges. I am so aware of my age and my mental note to self to have a cut-off age for motherhood. My body still feels in 15% recovery mode and in between feelings of groundhog day, partial longing for my previous life, sense of discipline (and body), I am more than filled to the brim. My daughter continues to surprise me every day and I am falling more and more in love and awe as I watch her evolve and grow. As for number two though, unless you are a ‘superwoman’, how does one decide that two is the right path? Maybe if I had the gift of time, that is, if I were in my early thirties, I could grapple more with this concept, but between the on and off sleep deprivation and feelings of overwhelm, I feel like the moments where I desire to have a newborn again are fleeting. Get it out of the way? Ha. Occasionally (usually when I am ovulating), I get intense feelings of wanting to be pregnant again and to add to our family, but then it’s like I snap out of it and reality kicks in. With the growing chaos in the world and the small feats that make me identify as ‘me’ again, I am truly torn. There is so much that I want to do. So much. The things that make me happy to my core include hiking, yoga, travel, attending music festivals and having a job that I enjoy. Not exactly the perfect list of core interests to accessorise with a baby. And when I dream of the future, there is no concrete vision of what family looks like. I have only the examples portrayed by my beautiful mumma and my sister, who both chose to have tribes.

One? Two? It’s a constant game of tennis and I feel like I am stuck in the net. This is not a light decision for me and as many of you reading this probably know, this pivotal decision changes lives- for better or for worse. For some, embarking on the second child journey leads to a complete loss of self, loss of intimacy, life purpose and even failed marriages. For others, they wouldn’t have it any other way. Their children complete them. Whichever way you look at it, this decision forces me to assess two different identities and the prospect of two completely different life paths. If I could program my ovaries to procreate the cutest little blonde boy with bulging blue eyes and the gentlest of personalities to replace my late brother Henry, then maybe, just maybe I’d go again. But for now, life challenges me. I am a deer in the headlights and eventually, the decision may just be made- FOR me and not BY me.

Until Next Time….

xoxoxo H.V.G.

Boudoir – Ooh La-uh-huh!

How unleashing your inner ‘wild woman’ could be the ticket to unprecedented self-love.

**How taking a Boudoir Photoshoot enabled me to reach a new level of confidence and self-love.**

I’m not sure how I became so insecure with my body. My mum was always comfortable in her skin and I’m sure she believed that I would follow suit. She was the ideal female role model and as a little girl and a teenager, she taught me self love and compassion, frequently feeding me the belief that I was beautiful as I was and that I would grow into a perfectly proportioned woman. My mum was a fine example of confidence and femininity. In fact, I vividly recall sitting on the floor of her dressing room as a child, watching my mother radiate the most breathtaking feminine energy, as she applied her makeup then dressed effortlessly in flowing skirts, espadrilles and thick leather waist belts to highlight her hourglass figure. She was that woman that turned heads as she walked into a room, and as a young girl, I dreamed of experiencing these moments myself one day.

Perhaps it was the lack of male attention due to my dad being so absent in my growth years and I actually craved the compliments from dad rather than mum, or maybe it was that one time those teenage boys yelled out “fat skank” as i walked up the street in a denim mini skirt at 12 years old showing off what I had thought were ‘good legs’. Maybe I can blame the Australian culture for sexualising nudity, rather than accepting it as ‘normal’ like many of the European cultures, or maybe it was because I never had the opportunity to attend a dance class where I could learn to be in touch with my feminine form. Nonetheless, I have lacked confidence in my physical self my entire life. The journey of loving myself in my body, and finding the confidence to feel deeply free in my own skin has been one of my greatest roadblocks to self growth.

When I joined a coaching program after a broken marriage and a couple of failed attempts at a new relationship, It’s safe to say that I was rock bottom and my self love practices consisted of fuelling myself with alcohol, over-training at the gym and flirting with men that I had no intentions with, simply for self validation. Every small ounce of attention from a male would give me a quick tick of validation, which was always followed by the same feelings of not being good enough. I would find myself ‘acting free’ on a dance floor, as I stared daggers at the beautiful woman dancing with her eyes shut, moving freely – embodied – feminine- with no care in the world. As I stiffly shook my hips, I would glance around for male approval, then convince myself that the ‘other woman’ was being slutty and was probably the type of girl that would take off her clothes for anyone. Yet deep down I wanted to feel what she was feeling.

When I came across the ‘homework’ to partake in a boudoir photoshoot as part of my coaching program, I quickly pushed the idea to the back of my head, telling myself that this homework was for the prettier women- the women with better bodies and that I wasn’t good enough to get the tick of approval from men. For me it was always about validation.

Then, like a sign from the universe, I was approached online by a photographer who had seen my published photo from a car event that I had attended for a work colleague. I had posed with the cars for a bit of fun and my ammateur photos were online. The photographer asked if I would be interested in TFP (a trade of services – my modelling in exchange for photos for his portfolio). The timing was fit. I had nothing to lose (not even money), and so I bit the bullet and asked if he had experience in boudoir. Ah the ultimate test of me being comfortable in my own skin – in front of a camera!

The Shoot:

Me. Lingerie. Camera. Photographer. Exposed. Having a Boudoir photo shoot was one of the most challenging things I have ever done for myself. For once, I was doing something for me- not for anyone else’s approval or validation. I was lucky that the photographer who approached me was experienced and I quickly learnt after speaking with him and reaching out to some of the models that he had worked with in the past, that he was professional, tasteful and a respectful family man. (Yes it had crossed my mind that he could be a rapist or a serial killer, so references are a must). Joe worked with me prior to my shoot, so that I wasn’t aimless when I turned up to the shoot. He sent me example photo shoots, names of girls I could talk to online for encouragement and ideas and suggested what I could wear. He booked a hotel room to take the photos so that we were in neutral territory. We agreed to a couple of styles of photographs and he told me to bring a few outfit changes, jewellery, heels and fresh flowers. As I pulled all of my gear together in the days prior, I could feel the nerves and excitement brewing. I had no idea how I would do this, and how I would feel comfortable and not awkward. I was kicking myself for not being stricter with my nutrition in the weeks leading up and as I scrolled the models on his instagram page, I felt a pang of inadequacy, then reminded myself why I was doing this. If I hated the photos, then I never had to do anything with them. No pressure. No pressure. No Pressure.

I remember now, on the day of the shoot meeting Joe in the hotel lobby. I had my makeup done, my hair was perfect and I was wearing sky high heels. As I got into the elevator, I recall making eye contact with myself in the mirror. And in that moment I let go. Wow. I looked beautiful. This was a chance to be free- to fully embrace the experience and let go. If I can’t love myself now- in a moment of true vulnerability and in the ultimate feminine space, then when will I ever? So I left the old me in the elevator and decided to ‘Carpe Diem’. While it did still take me a little while to ‘warm up’, I managed to relax into my shoot relatively fast. The lighting was dim (perfect for boudoir) and so it flattered my body. I owned up to Joe about my insecurities (please no bum shots and can we be kind to my lower belly pooch). This communication was oh so important because Joe nurtured me, encouraged me into my best angles and respected my insecurities. We were not rushed, and there were many moments where I laughed if I felt awkward instead of judging myself. There were nipple slips, leg cramps and awkward double chin moments, but with trust in myself and my photographer, I felt confident that this was all a part of the experience and was able to let my inner wild woman free. Ah so this is what it feels like! Before I knew it, I was coming up with poses on my own, and a natural sparkle was coming out in the photographs as the shoot progressed. I was fuelled with adrenaline, pride and confidence and was able to truly believe that I was a worthy subject for the lens. For once, I was entirely present in my body and the me that drove home that day was experiencing a whole new chapter of self love and acceptance.

When Joe contacted me with the photos a few days later, I was shocked. He sent me some rough unedited shots, and admittedly I was in awe. I couldn’t believe how beautifully some of the photos turned out. And that they were unedited. Pride bubbled up into my throat as I scrolled the photos, and when he asked me to select twenty for him to edit, I actually found the process of elimination tricky, because each and every photograph was symbolic of tiny tiny steps towards self love and true feminine embodiment. I now proudly have a framed black and white piece on my bedroom wall with three of my personal favourites and have pledged to myself that I would do this again in a heartbeat if ever I truly doubted my feminine self – my beautiful female form, my feminine energy and inner wild woman.

In the mean time, I’d like to encourage every woman to embrace this experience – at least once – for herself. Because one day, you will look back at your twenty, thirty or forty year-old self and wish that you had embraced your ‘younger’, ‘wilder’ self.

MY TIPS FOR A BOUDOIR SHOOT:

Find a great photographer. Photographers are dime a dozen, but it’s important to find a good one, and someone who makes you feel safe. Social media is invaluable these days but can also be dangerous. By reaching out in the amateur modelling world, resources are at your fingertips. Search hashtags and find local models and photographers, then talk to them, ask questions, ask for references and research before meeting with someone. Make sure the person you choose is confident in Boudoir and is leading you from the beginning, rather than being left feeling aimless.

Find Your Style: It’s important to have an idea of what style you are going for. Again, scroll social media and Pinterest. Find photos and outfits that resonate and you may even find your photographer linked to the photos.

Have A Preparation Ritual: If you want to splurge, pay for a professional shoot and a makeup artist and hair stylist. Regardless, make sure you have prepared yourself physically for the shoot. I created a ritual prior to my shoot, making sure my legs and pits were shaved, I was moisturised, smelt good and that my hair and makeup was on point. Add some heels and lingerie to the equation and my confidence was soaring.

Have Outfit Options: Make sure you take plenty of costume changes. Nothing worse than being stuck with one outfit and trying to make it work. Props like fresh flowers or a silky sheet or robe are great too. Don’t be afraid to take the more risky outfit with you as well as the safe option. You can always start with one and progress to the next.

Have A Location that you vibe: Some women prefer to have their shoot at home, and that’s fine. But I found that travelling to a shoot location got me in the zone easier. I had no distractions and was able to fully embrace the experience and unleash my wild woman.

Carpe Diem: You may not be able to leave all of your insecurities at the door but remember why you are doing this. It is such an empowering experience. Trust me you won’t regret it.

…And just like that, in the words of Clarissa Pinkola Estes (Women Who Run With The Wolves),

“Bone By Bone, Hair by Hair, Wild Woman comes back.”

_{x H.V.G.}

Numero Uno..Or No?

.. Acing Numero Uno….The ultimate Love journey.

Numero Uno. Number one. In a world where our core desire is to be surrounded by love – to be greeted by our loved ones when we come home, it feels counterintuitive to direct one’s focus inwards rather than to invest it outwardly into our relationships. And rightly so – given that investing all our energy into ourselves and assuming that our relationships will magically unfold is a time bomb waiting to explode into shards of disappointment, unfulfilled desires and unrealistic expectations of what a successful relationship entails. So how does one find a successful balance, when being the opposite – overly invested in our relationships- can quickly become a dangerous and tumultuous journey of dependency and relationship anxiety?

I’ve always been a lover. I grew up dreaming of and believing in romance and soulmates. As a young adolescent, I quickly became fascinated with any novels that were centered around love and intimacy (and sex). I spent most of my teens thinking that each partner was the one i would settle with, followed by a period of sexually fueled single life, followed by meeting ‘the one’ – who turned out to not be the one. When I walked down the aisle on my wedding day, I truly believed that the man I solemnly vowed to love and honour – would be the last man in my life. Little did I know at the time, that I would be in my early 30’s, divorced and battling to understand myself as an individual as well as attempting to find a balance of ‘self’ and ‘relationship’ with a man that on most days feels like he is more into himself than me. Turns out the ‘one’ I married was a scenario of two people that lived and breathed one another to the point that ‘we’ became the norm over ‘you’ and ‘I’. But love is meant to be an obsession – right? He’s meant to be the ying to my yang and fuel me with excitement and entertain me on a daily, isn’t he? And then the stark reality hit. I am the only constant person in my life. I have to put up with ME every day and the relationships in my life are simply added value to the only core stability in my life -myself.

People come and go in life. As the Buddhists so bluntly observe, the only thing certain in life is our death. Therefore, the one continuity in our lives is our self, and as such, loving ourselves is the most crucial thing that we can learn to do. Our journey of self-love is exactly that. It is a life-long journey, and sadly there are many people that travel throughout life that never experience the full experience of self-love, let alone the ability to experience self-love in conjunction with peaceful cohabitation. Our experiences of self-love are so often masked by creating a version of ourselves that we present to the rest of the world. On the surface, we may appear to those observing from the outside that we love ourselves. Hell, you may have even convinced yourself that this image you have created is self-love. Every day, we are exposed to people that create a false image of themselves- someone who is happy, fit, healthy and successful, yet this is merely the art we create for our external world to consume. In addition, this is where the blurred lines between self love, selfishness and having narcissistic tendencies is created, leaving one struggling to find the ultimate balance.

So what about the people that devote their entire lives to caring for other people? You know who I am talking about. This person is so focused on their partner, their children and their friends, that they fail to even take the time to look in the mirror. Some individuals truly believe that love is found by looking externally, rather than inward. I was one of these people and to be honest, some days i resonate with this persona more so than someone who is highly independent and succeeding in looking within for ultimate love in fulfillment. In this state, all of ones energy is directed toward those they love. Without love, I am not worthy or happy or fulfilled. Without people to love, I may as well not exist. If I have no one to love in a romantic sense then I am failing. If I end up alone then I have ultimately failed. They travel through life relying on the care of other individuals and when they experience loss in any form, they feel that they have failed and often spiral into deep depression when that person or those people are no longer.

So how do we begin to find a balance between the love and attention that we invest into ourselves – be true to this and relationships versus the love and attention that we put into ourselves. The answer to this is not so simple. Being ABLE to look after ourselves, that is, to satisfy our own core needs and to practice self care, self development and live life with integrity and whilst meeting another person’s needs is A LOT of work. We are often made to feel guilty for being too ‘selfish’. If a mother wants time out from her child, they are selfish. If we put our own needs before our partners, we often feel guilty. In reality, the true ability to love externally comes from knowing when we need to look after number one – ourselves and how to love ourselves first.

Looking into the eyes of the man I love now, I have finally discovered that investing in our personal growth is often something that is put on the back burner when we become ‘drunk in love’, as Beyonce says. I have been forced to discover myself in the past 24 months and am forever grateful for this journey no matter how much discomfort it has caused. Investing in ourselves is the most difficult thing we can do, but our own journey – the journey of ‘self’ is ultimately the one that matters most.

....Until next time… xox H.V.G

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I Am The Strongest Woman I Know

This is my Journey.

My name is Millie Kate. I’m 33, relatively successful and come with a smile on my face. I am fit, healthy and attractive. From an outsiders perspective, I am like most women my age. The truth is, I have experienced great loss, trauma and grief. More than most.
My story is complex. It is painful. I have baggage. I come from a family of 6. Out of 4 kids, we are now two. I had two brothers and two lovers. I am divorced, come from dysfunctional family and have suffered my fair share of adversity in life. Through pain and suffering, I discovered the importance of building real, raw self awareness and taught myself the art of true resilience.
I do not feel sorry for myself. I am the strongest woman I know.

My self discovery journey started late.
Through life’s events and various traumas, I developed the attitude of “keep on keeping on”. I didn’t stop. Oh god it hurt to stop. I thought I was strong, but I was merely ‘coping’. Through pain, i discovered fitness, eating, writing, sex and drinking. I also built the biggest guard to protect myself and an ego that is both my vice and virtue. While I have always lived on the premise of growing through continual self improvement, it took my body physically failing me to stop and begin to truly begin to rebuild myself .

My story may be more complex than yours. It may not. I may have suffered more pain and trauma than most women my age, or perhaps not. Maybe you are hurting more than I am. I’m not here to compare. I am here on a journey of self discovery and personal growth. I am here to share my experiences and to demonstrate that life’s adversities do not have to break you – they can refine you. My quest is to become a High Value Woman – the strongest version of myself so that I can provide the best value as a partner, sister, daughter, friend and one day, mother. If my words can resonate and I can connect with one person on this journey, then I am a success.

I look forward to sharing me.

xox H.V.G

In The Words Of Charles Darwin…