Thursday, June 7, 2018

WIN Disney on Ice Tickets Perth


Celebrate the legacy of Disney when ‘Disney On Ice celebrates 100 Years of Magic’ at Perth Arena, June 15 - 17

I am giving away 2x 4 A Reserve tickets to the opening night: Friday, June 15 at 7pm at Perth Arena (each x4 tickets being valued at $180 at date of posting comp)

For your chance to be there as Mouse-ster of Ceremonies, Mickey Mouse, leads a parade of beloved characters in this new show, simply:

Head to Facebook and Instagram to enter!

You can purchase tickets to the show through Ticketek: http://premier.ticketek.com.au/shows/show.aspx?sh=DISNEYIC18&v=WPA

For more info on the show visit http://disneyonice.com.au

T&Cs: 
You must be a liker/follower of Where's My Glow to enter.
Name your favourite Disney character
Tag three friends who love Disney!

Winners will be drawn on 13/06/18 at 7pm AWST. Winners must collect their tickets from the box office at Perth Arena prior to the 7pm show on Friday the 15th of June 2018 (photo ID will be required). Applicants must be over 18 to enter.

Tickets cannot be exchanged for other performances or cash/credit.

Monday, June 4, 2018

Letter to Tricky - Eight Years Old

Oh, my sweet, gorgeous, amazing boy, today you are EIGHT!

It has been an up and down year filled with changes for you, and more often than not, you've faced them head on and come out triumphant on the other side.

This time last year you were a yellow belt about to graduate up to orange. Well you hit orange and in the time that followed you were asked to join the elite training squad, the Black Belt Club. All blue belts get invited to BBC, but only a few orange belts, so you were pretty chuffed to be invited early. You adore BBC - they do all sorts of weapons training and fancy kicks. You have a bo, tonfa and sai now. You also have a nerf gun now because I figured my "no guns in the house" rule was pretty hypocritical if I was giving you actual weapons.

You went up through orange, and though not many people reading this today will understand, when you're bigger you'll know what I mean when I say you "double tipped" to earn your final black tip and red tip in one week, meaning you could graduate to blue belt a bit early. Right now you're trying to do the same thing for green belt. I'm not entirely sure you know just how full on green belt will be, but you have it in your head that green is THE BELT to get. For you it signifies that you're more than just a kid mucking around in the dojo; it's a sport that you take seriously.

Twice you have participated in ISKA tournaments now. The first time you were super nervous and we signed you up so that you could get an idea of what these tournaments were like. In my mind I was thinking you wouldn't do that well and it would be a great lesson in failing - I think kids need to learn how to fail, sue me! It pushed you in ways you'd never been pushed. You loved parts of it and hated other parts (sparring), but from three events you came home with three trophies. So much for learning to fail! Three third places haha! And because it was the first time the event has ever been held in WA, you were technically ranked third in the state for your age.

In your next tournament the competition was much more intense; there were more entrants and you were up against higher ranks (even up against a black belt), and because of when you're born in the year you were in the 8-9 category despite only being 7. You practised so much and came up with a freeform kata that you were SO PROUD of. You nailed it and came home with two third place trophies and a second place trophy. Well done, buddy!


At the beginning of the year you changed schools. I was concerned with how you would cope because you are a shy kid, and, well, I'm your mum and I worry. When we first said you'd move schools you looked unsure until I said one of your martial arts besties, H, was going to be there. Then you were all "seeya old school!". A playdate the day before school with some kids in your year helped, but walking in to class to find you knew a few of them from martial arts put you right at ease. Plus with H there waiting to give you a hug, you settled in within the first week.

Not long after that, we moved house. You LOVE the new house because from the very first day there have been kids in the street playing and you have gone out and played with them - I can't image the you of a year ago just going up and talking to random kids but you do now, and I credit your increase in confidence to martial arts. These days it's a daily occurrence for the door bell to ring and someone ask if you can come and play - to the point where when the doorbell rings I ignore it because it is ALWAYS for you.

You get on your bikes and you're off. The sense of freedom and responsibility you get from it is obvious, and it is becoming apparent that you have your Dad's spatial awareness because you look at a map or go somewhere once and know exactly where you are and how to get places. I did lose you once though because you lost track of time!! I drove the streets (the ones you're allowed to ride to your friends' houses) looking for you and finally found you (thank you, kind neighbour, for huggign me while I cried on your doorstep) almost an hour after you were due home. It was an honest mistake though, and you haven't done it again since.


You want to marry one of your martial arts besties, L. The two of you are peas in a pod; you are both sensitive souls who focus hard on the task at hand. You announced proudly that you would get married but at the ceremony there would be no kiss (because EW GROSS). Instead you'll give each other a thigh kick. I love that you're comfortable in yourself and happy to share with us your hopes and dreams, and my aim in life is to make sure that you always feel this way.

We've had some success in getting you to sleep this year, but it is still a bit of a struggle and most nights you're up two or three times. Your brain is so busy it wakes you up. I wonder if after all the things we've done to get you to sleep that maybe you don't need as much sleep as other people?

Thank you for an amazing year, my bud. You have shown such courage and determination, maturity and resilience in all that you have faced (including having a bit of a crazy mum). You continue to amaze me and inspire me to be a better mum.

I love you to Pluto and back (because the moon is close).

Mama x


If you feel like a trip down memory lane, you can read the each Letter to Tricky here.

Thursday, May 31, 2018

Winner Winner Chicken Tattoo

I've found people to be very divided when it comes to tattoos. There's a few different camps out there, of which I belong to the "I would be covered in them if I had the money and I wasn't so indecisive" group. If you're not in to them, or have nothing nice to say, you might wanna go watch cat videos or something and skip this.

Recently I entered a competition on Instagram to win up to a full day sitting with Darcie Kapor, the legend who did the tattoo on my foot - the one that Tricky chose at the Kustom Kulture Festival. Because doesn't everyone let their 7yo choose a tattoo design on a chocolate wheel? You know, the one Bobbin keeps copying? 


I was so pumped when I found out I won. Because a) a new tattoo from Darcie, and b) free! I had an idea based off the designs of artist Jason Freeny, who makes sick AF anatomical sculptures. I follow his social media channels and he had mentioned he was cool with people using his designs as a starting point for their tattoo art. I gave Darcie the brief: Rosie the Riveter, as a LEGO person, with the anatomical cut out ala Freeny. 

She nailed it. She came up with this full upper arm piece that included elements to represent my love of galaxies, plants, the mother/child bond, and love. It was insane. The second I saw it, I was lost for words and replied to her in heart eye emojis only. It was booked in and everything was hunky dory.

Narrator: But everything was not hunky dory, for Glow had a midnight freak out.

A few nights before I was due to go in, I flipped out. The piece was in effect a half sleeve, which I have wanted for ever, but being face to face with the prospect I wondered if I was doing the right thing. Was I just getting it big because I wanted it? Or because it was free? Or because I'm a bit manic? An arm is not as easy to cover as the tiny tramp stamp on my back I got when I was 18!

Darcie was so lovely, and said we can just leave the background pieces out for now, and if I want they can always be added in later to make a sleeve. 

So with my anxieties calmed I headed in, and we got down to business on my fifth tattoo.

I generally don't find tattoos too painful on the day (hit it when it's fresh and I'll cry though). They're not fun, but I have this insane pain threshold and it comes in handy sometimes - tattoos and giving birth come to mind. This tattoo design didn't have much combining of colours (ink over already inked skin gets a bit ouchy), so it was a breeze compared to my galaxy on my other arm where all the colours overlap and swirl together - with that I was trying hard not to squirm. 

At a few points I had this weird as fuck referred pain in my opposite arm! I have never felt that before! It was as if I was having a tattoo done on both sides at once. 


I read a few chapters of my book, ate chocolate, made slow motion videos and generally laid about chatting to Darcie about how awesome dogs are. It was basically a four hour, one armed break. 

I am SO happy with how it turned out.

Wyldstyle Rosie the Riveter Anatomy Tattoo - a bit bloody and puffy
It's Wyldstyle wearing the Rosie the Riveter shirt and headscarf, with anatomy cut away. I couldn't decide if I wanted lips on her or not; on the drawings and stencil it looked perfect but now that it is on my arm, I think she needs lips and the edge of her eye poking out from under her hair. Darcie said I can think about it and come back in a couple of weeks to add them if I still feel that way.

What do you think? A friend said it was "weird, unusual and quirky... much like you... I like it" and I have to say that has to be one of the best compliments I've ever gotten! 

Thursday, May 3, 2018

IPL and the Chocolate Starfish



In my latest reincarnation I'm a Social Media Manager. I'm finding there are certain downsides to having a few clients for my social media management gig these days (I'm in house for one, and freelance for four others), namely that the "Year of Content" has quickly taken a back seat. Because this blogging shit isn't paid, while faffing about on someones Instagram account is, and I have a mortgage to pay.

But it's not the daily grind that you think of when people mention going to work. It's pretty cool and there are the great perks that come with my job. Namely, that I can be in the office, tap tap tapping away on my laptop and then pop in to the next room for some IPL hair removal.

Such an event occurred the other day, and since it involves nudity and genitals I thought "I SHOULD TOTALLY BLOG THIS!". Because embarrassing myself on the internet is part of my very specific skill set. 

Now I am not a fan of the look of a Brazilian wax. In my mind it looks pre-pubescent, and that gives me the heebie jeebies. But I figured it might be a good idea to have one session of IPL the full South American way to reduce the amount of hair, and then just get my standard bikini line done from then on to actually permanently remove ALL of that straggly hair that usually sticks out my bathers. 

I'm no stranger to having people between my legs. You dirty bastards are thinking "oh yeah, I bet!", but what I actually mean is that I've been waxed before, I've had kids, I've had operations down there, so quite a few people have been exposed to my undercarriage. Plus I'm of the age where my giveashit factor is rapidly declining. It's just a vulva, yo.

I prepped for my IPL the night before by briefly considering the whipper snipper for the inital stage, but instead opted for the clippers (that will never be looked at the same by MapGuy mid beard trim). Wrapped in a towel, I lugged the trimmers, and the hand vac (because my Lady Garden was more Lady Hedge) to the bathroom, past MG who piped up "Need a torch? A headlamp perhaps?". Fucker. 

As it turns out, I could have used one. Or a hand mirror. 

I'm super bendy, but even with my attempts at contortion I couldn't see everything and did my best to feel my way around when I got the actual razor blade stage. Feel fanny, swipe swipe, feel fanny, swipe again, smooth, next bit. And on and on it went for seventeen hours until I just about blunted the razor. I'm not kidding - I have the fabulous, and not uncommon quirk, of all my pubes being "double pluggers" or even "triple pluggers"; two or three hairs growing out of each follicle. You're welcome for that visual. 

You have to shave before IPL because the light is distributed throughout the pigment, so having the pigment just under the skin in the follicle means you'll get a more power packed punch where it really needs it. Also, it's super heating that pigment and those hairs will singe. Legit catch fire if you're not careful. 

I head to work the next day and after an hour or so of Professional Facebooking, it was my time to go and get the actual IPL done (yes, we're this far in to the story and I haven't had it yet). 

I hopped on the bed and my lovely coworker, D, quickly did my underarms first - and a few little microscopic hairs that had popped through a millimetre from the night before singed. See, you thought I was joking about catching fire but I'm not. And we don't want a CROTCH FIRE, ya hear? I ripped my pants off doing the whole hide your undies thing - OMG why do we do that? She's about to see my vag but oh dear don't let her see my delicates! - and jumped on the bed legs akimbo. 

I was scared it was going to be super painful, but I'd witnessed (and filmed - you HAVE to watch it!) the gorgeous 1MotherBlogger having her IPL Brazilian and we chatted throughout the whole thing. Surely if you can have a bit of a chin wag it's not that painful... and she was right. Whilst it wasn't fun, but there were only a few really ouchy bits and I too was able to chat away the entire time while D manoeuvred the handpiece all over my bits, zapping my follicles to kingdom come. My underarms actually hurt more, which means I obviously have Labia of Steel. 

Aaaanywho, it came time for me to roll on my side so D could do my butt. Yes, they go ALL THE WAY.

But wait, it gets better. Because I heard the horrifying words "Oh, you've missed a bit shaving. It's OK, I'll get a razor". At which point my colleague, a woman who is so lovely and I enjoy working with, SHAVED MY ASSHOLE. 

She proceeded like it was nothing (because she's a nurse, a consummate professional, and has done this exact thing hundreds of times), and zapped my chocolate starfish. On the pain scale, it was only about a two to three, but on the embarrassment scale of 1 to FUCKING KILL ME NOW, it was right at the top. It's one thing to have your lady lips treated, but it's a whole new experience for a colleague to hold up your buttcheek and go to town. Or, I don't know, maybe it's not for you. You might have a very, err, progressive workplace?  

As the treatment finished I was relieved both that I could put pants back on and that it had barely hurt at all - honestly waaaaay less painful than waxing. In pondering how awkward it would or wouldn't be to look D in the face and think "you've seen me naked", I considered that it would be worse if she'd treated over the hair; I would be left explaining to the Fire Department and Emergency Room docs just how it came to be that my ass hairs caught fire and burnt the office down. 

Sunday, March 4, 2018

Now with bonus crutches


In what is a sure sign from the universe that I have to slow down and stop taking so much on, I have hurt my leg and have been on crutches since Tuesday night. Woe is me. In lieu of flowers, please send chocolate.

But the way in which I have injured myself is so fucking unlikely for me. It might be normal for other people, but having my name and this injury in a sentence will make some people do a double take.

Instead of coming straight out and telling you what I did, I've come up with a list of things MORE LIKELY to see me on crutches than the actual event that caused my hop-a-long status:

  1. Getting my big toe caught in my pants leg as I walk. No, really. It is ridiculous how often I do this; I fall, my life flashes before my eyes (kinda boring on reflection), and I somehow unhook the offending piggy and stop myself faceplanting... well I have so far.
  2. Slipping on a puddle of my own drool as I stare through the glass at the local bakery. I need to carry one of those 'Slippery When Wet' cleaning signs with me whenever I go past.
  3. Getting run over by my own car. Oh wait I already did that! But it still makes the list, because it happening again is still more likely.
  4. Sliding down a hill. This was most recently attempted in February and I'll be honest, there were a few close calls. But who doesn't see a grassy slope and a sheet of cardboard and immediately think SLIDE TIME?! The kids had no idea what I was doing at first, but I led by example and hurtled myself down that hill and then gave them a turn. Because safety schmafety. It was disappointing to look up and see everyone else actively discouraging their kids from joining in our fun... keeping a huge part of their culture from them. I mean, skin on knees is important BUT AT WHAT COST? 
No one would blink an eye if I turned up on crutches and said "I got run over in my own driveway again" but when I drop the bombshell that I have a genuine, bone fide, 100% legitimate SPORTS INJURY from doing REAL SPORT it is shocking.

If my highschool had a "Most likely to never ever be injured playing sport" vote, I would have won it right after I won the "Most likely to never ever play a sport or do any physical activity" vote.

But then the whole martial arts things came along and I got bitten by the bug and I'm all sporty and shit now, complete with motherfucking TORN MUSCLES AND TENDONS.

Yep, landing after a switch push kick (a super simple kick that I did properly) my calf decided that the half hour of warm up and activity was not enough and riiiiiiiiip. I looked up at my sparring partner and said "I think I just hurt my leg?". The questioning was because it didn't hurt, but I had felt a ripping sensation that I had never ever felt before (and never ever want to feel again!). I went to walk off the mats and found I couldn't. Ah fuck.

I hobbled off, being held up by two people, and my leg was elevated and iced within a minute or two. It didn't hurt, but it felt really strange. 

My instructor said that if I'd torn it, it would probably start hurting real soon. He went back to the class after making sure I was OK and then the pain started to hit. I came soooo close to crying, partly from pain and partly from how bloody disappointed I felt to be out with an injury when I was really getting in to my training.

At the end of class I tried to stand up to hobble to the car, but it wasn't happening. I couldn't put any weight on my left leg at all and had to be carried, piggy back style, to the car that MG had brought down as close as possible to the door (we train together - nawww). 

I've kept the standard RICE routine going and been for an ultrasound that shows two tears in my gastrocnemius muscle and one tear in my plantaris tendon. They were thinking it was a grade three tear, but now it looks like three grade two tears instead. 

It had stopped hurting on rest and would only hurt if I moved my leg or put my weight down on it, but now, in a somewhat backward step, it has started throbbing all the time. Add sore arms and hands from crutches, my period, and the fact that I cannot unpack the new house or clean the old house, I'm really not a happy chappy right now. 

I start physio in the next week, because if anyone touches me now I will swat them with my crutches. I want to get back to martial arts as quick as I can, because I'm really loving it, and also because I don't want MG to get too many ranks ahead of me.

Priorities, people, priorities. 

LinkWithin

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...