I wanna play with your boobs

This is the line I hear at least ten times a day.

Some will be surprised that the words are not uttered by my husband or even a passing pervert, but an almost three year old boy. 

Tricky weaned about two or three months ago. We were down to one very short feed most days but when Bobbin popped on the scene what supply was there dropped right off and every time he fed it would hurt. It felt exactly like feeding newborn Tricks back when I had no real clue what I was doing and lovely case of golden nipples. We returned to cracked nipple central where my toes curled every time he'd ask for milk. Something had to give.

Despite being of the "never offer, never refuse" school of thought for weaning and a supporter of full-term breastfeeding, I started offering milk in a cup more and more. Under my breath I was shouting have-your-milk-in-a-damn-cup-and-leave-my-boobs-alone. It took a week and it was all over red rover. Or red nipples. Whatever.


For thirty-two(ish?) months, my breasts were used as a source of nourishment and comfort. In the later stages they became less about nutrition and, much like the flotation devices they are, more for when the day needed to be saved. Think ass-crack-of-dawn wake ups, the occasional cranky bed time or near-meltdown for a grand total of about five times a week. So basically any time when we all needed some sleep lest we go insane. Hooray for boobies.

Breasts as a source of nourishment... kind of.

These days though? They have transformed (back) in to fun bags.

If my chest is in sight, I hear it. "I wanna play with your boobs". Usually after he has plunged his hand down my top and grabbed a fist full of flesh.

He likes to cuddle them, squeeze them and of course jiggle them. He is obsessed with breasts. And I really hope you said that with the voice of Elaine Benes from Seinfeld.

I don't quite know what to do because we have tried everything we can think of. I had been pegging all my hopes on ignoring it, saying they were not for him any more because he's a big boy, telling him they were for Bobbin now etc.

It would even appear that physically stopping him and redirecting his attention elsewhere has done nothing other than introduce him to the fact that other women also have breasts. Luckily the groping has so far been constrained to family members, but I dread the day when he just lunges at a stranger and attempts to motorboat them.

Nothing has worked so far. Nothing! 

So help me, dear reader, what do I do?  Do I leave it and hope it is just his way of saying so-long to his old pals, or do I put my foot down? If you have any toddler weaning advice for me, my oft grabbed breasts would very much appreciate it.

Shakin' My Beauty Booty

Did you notice my new side bar bling? That little image over there that says "I write at The Shake"?

I know, I'm as shocked as you are that I'm over there with all those absolutely fabulous women, and to be honest, more than a little intimidated. But you know what? I'm so freakin' excited about it. My first article, The Top 5 Lies Your Beauty Therapist Tells You, went up the other day and I think a few beauty therapists might be a bit pissed at me for it.

{I might also write non-beauty stuff for The Shake when I'm a bit ranty. Case in point: Other Peoples' Kids}

I'll be writing over there once a fortnight or so about all things beauty and make up. Yeah, slightly different to my normal shits and giggles. So what gives me the "authority" to write about all the fancy beauty shiz? Well, lemme tell you a story... fair warning, it involves me showing off a bit:

In 2005 I was sitting on my mentally ill, obese, disability pension-receiving arse with Map Guy by my side wondering what the fuck I was doing with my life. Despite loving it, I didn't feel like going back to uni to complete my degree that I had put on hold a few years earlier - I wanted to do something completely different and having always been interested in beauty therapy and seeing that there was an open day at the campus down the road I decided to go and have a look.

Map Guy came with me, we got the official tour and were told about the course. The facilitator mentioned a student of the year award and I decided, on the spot, that I would put all my efforts in to this. I turned to Map Guy and said "I'm going to win that award". He smiled at me, squeezed my hand and replied with full confidence, "I know".

Fast forward twelve months and I was being presented with the 2006 Student of the Year award, receiving a scholarship to attend the International Dermal Institute, being nominated for WA Vocational Student of the Year and being head hunted and employed by a top salon (who would approach the top student every year from our campus).

And I have to say, I was so, SO freakin' proud of myself to go from relying on a disability pension to student of the year to sought after employee in the space of twelve months. I went on to complete my diploma and in the following years worked as a beauty therapist and makeup artist for thousands of clients (read: saw a hell of a lot of labias).

So there you have it. I know what the big words on the back of a bottle of moisturizer mean though I can't always pronounce them. I know what effect they have on the skin. I know a few tips and tricks to either achieve or fake your own Glow and that the absolute best thing you can do for your skin is to wear an SPF 30 sunscreen when the UV Index hits 3 or higher (and reapply it!).

Now that I've successfully shown off, tell me, whaddya wanna know? Any questions I can answer for you over at The Shake?

How to stop your kids being scared of Santa

This post is sponsored by Gig Fizz

Original pic by Brian Sawyer, title added under CC license

This time last year going to the shops was a complete fucking nightmare. The Trickster, on seeing anything at all Santa Grotto-esque (even a nativity scene!) would cry and scream then run like all buggery in the opposite direction a lot faster than I could. How do such little legs get such speed? 

This year I was determined that all Christmas related tantrums would be avoided by instigating a not-so-subtle brainwashing that Christmas is GOOD.

Here are my top tips for making your kid less scared of Santa:

1. Set up the Christmas tree early and let them help. My inner anti-consumerist had a mild heart attack setting up the tree in November but I needed it to be done before every single shopping centre looked like Pinterest had thrown up on it. Rearrange the decorations when they’re asleep if you want, they’ll just pull it all off tomorrow again.
2. Do Christmas craft projects. Get our your scissors, that manky glue stick from 1993, some coloured paper and go for it. Try recycling an old cardboard box and create a tree and decorations that your kid can paint. Fingers crossed letting them go for their lives redecorating that every day will stop them pulling the baubles off the real tree and hiding them in your bed.
   
   
   
   
   
3. Go to Gig Fizz and view a free Santa video for your boy or girl (you can even send the video to Nan & Pop for prime pre-Christmas nawwww inudcing/wallet producing fun). A fabulous Santa straight from the Santa School in Canada (OMG THERE IS A SANTA SCHOOL!!) will speak to your kid and they’ll start to feel the magic of Christmas. If they’re still scared then you can upgrade to a personalized Santa video (or a fairy, or a Princess, or Elvis…) and Santa will say exactly what you ask him to… like “Geez, kid! Don’t be afraid of me, I bring you presents, duh!”.
4. Now that your tot isn’t terrified, take them to as many Grottos as possible. Hang back and just let them watch the other kids to see how it’s done. Ask them if they want to go up and if they do, stay with them. If they don’t, mention that Santa normally gives out lollies try a wave and then leave. Forget about photos, this is not your goal. If you go too soon, this will happen:
   
   

   

   The Gig Fizz kids... hrm, I'm betting this is what started the Santa option
   (used with permission)

If all goes according to plan you'll now have a child that demands to sit on the lap of every single Santa and even random old guys with white beards and overweight people wearing red. Hrmm... maybe being scared one more year wouldn't be so bad...

Is your kid afraid of Santa?

Baby Jane Makeup Tutorial

{alternatively titled: look, I made myself super ugly}

On Saturday I put the call out on my Facebook page for advice. Because that is what Facebook is for these days since it obviously isn't for promoting blogs to real people any more, not even when you pay *grumble grumble*. I was meant to be going to a murder mystery party as Bette Davis and didn't know whether to go young and glam (like Bette in Jezebel) or old and insane (like Bette in What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?).

My initial urge, the one felt deep down next to my foofu valve, was to go old and ugly just because it would give me a chance to whip out my makeup kit again. It's been a while since I stopped taking on makeup clients but I still have all the cool stuff. Plus if I make myself look ugly with makeup, when I take it off I look fucking gorgeous in comparison.

You lot came to the party with the vast majority voting for old and ugly. I love youse guise!

An hour is all it takes to turn me from a 30 year old to an old and insane Baby Jane. I had a head start on the insane, obviously. I put these photos on Instagram (follow me for more fugmo pictures) and managed to scare a few of you. You're welcome.

I practiced the facial expressions for ages, so can we all just appreciate the grumpy I'm-batshit-crazy-and-am-going-to-run-you-over-with-my-car glare for a moment?

So how do you turn yourself in to Baby Jane Hudson? In 9 simple steps! (Click on the pics for larger, scarier pics - do so at your own risk).

1. Start with a blank palate. This is also called your face if you're not a wanker. Pin your hair back

2. Put a metric fucktonne of full coverage foundation on in a colour that is a few shades too light - Baby Jane makeup is packed on because that bitch was crazy. It didn't come across too well in my selfies but my new found ability to raise one eyebrow did so it's still a win.

3. With a brown liquid makeup (I used Ben Nye wet/dry theatre makeup but you can use brown eyeliner or even a matte eyeshadow & water), start drawing in some lines with a fine brush to create shadows. To know where they go, pull faces and draw in the lines you create! Lift your eyebrows, BAM forehead wrinkles, scrunch your nose, BAM eyebrow wrinkles, squint, BAM crows feet. You are guaranteed to look like a tool while you do it.

4. Make the lines even darker then stop to Instagram the shit out of your new look. Poke your head around the corner where your husband is cooking dinner and say "Have a sneak peek at your future, honeybuns!"

5. Add a shed load of black eyeliner to the top and bottom lids. I used Ben Nye wet/dry theatre makeup again but any eyeliner will do. If it smudges, that's OK! This bitch is cray cray and it will just help the look.

6. Add false lashes. I used the biggest pair of black lashes I could find on the top because I was going for a caricature look. Falsies on the lower lashes are perfect for this look but if you don't have them, draw some on with black liquid eyeliner.

 

7. Add a bright blush to the apples of your cheeks only, as if you're dressing up as some aging cupie doll... oh wait, you ARE! Then grab a red lip liner and give yourself exaggerated lips - yes, draw outside the line, it will feel gross but it is for the greater good - smoosh on some red lippy over the top for good measure and don't forget your beauty mark (even though it isn't visible in the stock photo above it is in the film).

8. Get wiggy with it. Pin the sides back slightly to create the bouffant mullet look that old Jane preferred.

9. Add extra crazy for good measure.

VOILA! You are now Baby Jane Hudson and will harbour the urge to overshadow your sister!

As an extra step, when you get to the party where you've only met three of the other guests before and 90% of the people have never even heard of the character you're dressed up as, be sure to loudly declare "I'M NORMALLY MUCH LESS UGLY!". If nothing else it means they'll back away and leave you next to the food table alone.

Do you go all out for fancy dress parties?

To Vitamin or not to Vitamin

Let's for a second ignore the fact that some of you may have said VIT-amin thus making my skin crawl, and carry on to more important things.

Original image by Erix, modified by moi under CC license

When I worked as the makeup chick in a pharmacy I would spend a lot of time with the naturopaths being told about all the marvelous things these tablets and potions were meant to be able to do for me. I often wondered whether it was all pseudo science and rather than part me with my symptoms it would just part me with my cash. I decided to try out a few out anyway because a) I had an income and b) I got an employee discount.

I swallowed giant horse tablets of spirulina, fish oil, iron, a multivitamin and, because I was duffed at the time, some super duper folate. I was taking so many different things that upon opening my cupboard a multi coloured foul smelling deluge of digestible plastic would descend on me. It was so stressful being covered every morning that I considered taking a stress remedy then decided cleaning my cupboard would probably be cheaper and more effective in the long run.

I was on my 'prescribed' regime for a year or so and other than having significantly less money in my bank account and wee that looked decidedly radioactive, I didn't notice anything different when I was on them. Though that could have been thanks to the eating chips constantly while preggers then not sleeping at all thanks to a newborn who fed freaking hourly. Apparently they negate all positive effects.

So here I am, a month in to my new health regime and I'm curious about it all again, but obviously not curious enough to actually buy any. And really, aren't blogs just avenues for getting advice?

Do you take vitamins? Should I? How do you pronounce it?

EDIT: 01/12/12 I've been taking a multi for a month now and OMG my nails are so strong. They've never been this strong before - they were always chipping and splitting. Now they're really long and painted blood red. Talons FTW!