7 things I hated about being a Beauty Therapist

Image adapted from Sérgio (Savaman) Savarese via Wikimedia Commons

I was a beauty therapist and makeup artist in my time PT (pre-Tricky). After studying feminism at uni the decision to become someone who faffs about with skincare and makeup raised a few soon to be perfectly coiffed eyebrows.

Despite my lecturers almost having heart attacks on my transition to the beauty world, I never saw what I did as anti-feminist. Every day in my job I made women feel better about the skin they were in. I might not have agreed with everything they chose to do, but telling them they can't wax off every single hair on their whole body because I thought it made them look prepubescent isn't very feminist either. Each to their own and all that jazz. Or all that vajazzle as the case may be.

Making women feel beautiful was actually pretty awesome. I was good at eyebrow shaping and given virgin eyebrows could make you look like you'd had an eye lift with a bit of wax and some perfectly aligned tweezers. I was also good at speedy brazillians but that's a different and rather more painful story.

There were definitely downsides to the job though:

1. Forgetting client names/faces. If you spend 90% of the time with your client looking at their vag, it's bound to happen. I'd usher them in to the room, wracking my brain about who it was, come back, remove the towel and BINGO... "So, Janet, how'd your date with Stewart go?". I never forget a vagina.
2. Whiffy clients. Ladies, please, if you've been at work all day and popped in for a quick wax on the way home, you're not at your freshest. It's not hard to use the freshening wipes provided. You're paying for them after all.
3. Manky clients. Completely different to the whiffy clients because these ones just filthy all over. I once had a young girl come in for a massage and the grime around her neck made me want to puke. When she piped up with "if you see any ticks just flick them off, I've just come back from camping", a little bit of my soul died.
4. Cranky latecomers. I get it, shit happens and you're late. But when you arrive 20 minutes late for a 30 minute appointment then yell at me when I tell you we have to downgrade your treatment? Then I get shitty and the urge to not be so gentle with the wax on your labia. Seriously gals, don't piss off your waxer.
5. Unrealistic expectations. Having a client request a makeup style that you know will look horrible and despite trying to persuade them they'll look shit unless you tone it down, they are adamant they want the catwalk look. So you do it... and they hate it... and you have to take it off and re-do it all, putting you behind schedule. The urge to scream "I FUCKING TOLD YOU SO" is rather strong.
6. Feet. Having to touch someone's feet when you have podophobia brings on cold sweats and panic attacks. I went to therapy to help with my issues and I could focus and get through it but I would have to disinfect my hands afterwards. With bleach. I once did a pedicure on a woman who only had nine toes as a result of an "accident" involving her brother and a sharp axe.
7. Assumptions. People generally assumed that I was a Beauty Therapist because I was too stupid to do anything else. They always I assumed I was a high school drop out. I was a uni drop out, GET IT RIGHT! It was with these folk that I'd always use the big words and I'll never forgetting pulling the dihydrogen monoxide joke on one of those bitches clients.

So there you have it. There were more positives than negatives and a lot of that was to do with the girls I worked with who made it fun. I even liked them enough to invite them to my extremely-awesome-but-strictly-budgeted wedding, so that's saying something.

On a side note, if you have a weak constitution, turn on SafeSearch when you *ahem* search for images of a facial.

What do you hate about your job?

I Heart My Body 2012

This is my third year participating in We Heart Life's I Heart My Body campaign.

The first time, with a headless, outdated preggo belly shot, and the second time completely starkers with a strategically placed toddler covering my nudie bits. I felt amazingly empowered after participating the last two times so I just had to do it again.

A month ago I started to take care of myself (took my time, right?). I've been eating better and have even been attempting to push through the whole boring chronic pain thing to walk places. Granted it is at such a slow pace that Mavis and Gladys overtake me on their Zimmer frames and any cardiovascular benefits are moot, but that's completely beside the point. The point is I'm trying (I'm very trying). And it's working. I feel better.

This week I had a little heath scare. It's more "annoying and expensive" than "life and death". Almost a year to the day when I asked if it would take such a thing for me to start looking after myself. So, yeah. Fabulous timing, body, thanks for that. But I'm using it as motivation to keep going with what I've been doing and not lose sight of why I'm doing it... because I want my body to be healthy. Because we all realize relying on my mind to be healthy is just not feasible.

So do I love my body? Yeah, sometimes. When I put in effort, stand up tall, smile and really pay attention to the things that matter. It's put up with a lot over the years and ideally I'd like it to put up with a bit more in the future. So I have to love it. It's the only one I've got:

I know what you're thinking: does this woman ever wear clothes? Take me to the pool and I'm covered up, stick me on the Interwebz and I'm an exhibitionist. Sans toddler this time because it was well after his bedtime when I shoved a camera in to Map Guy's hands and asked him to take this. Plus wearing toddlers as a nudie-bit coverer is sooo 2011.

The three things I love about my body:

1. My breasts. Yep, on the list for three years running, these boozies deserve a medal. They're slightly smaller this year thankfully, and can now fit in to regular bras from regular shops. Sometimes. They're also still producing milk for the Trickster.
2. My eyebrows. They might be uneven thanks to some over zealous waxing in my younger years, but they're pretty good at not being a monobrow or looking like two caterpillars stuck to my head. I've also recently managed to lift only one eyebrow so I can give the perfect "WTF?!" look. That in itself makes them worthy of a spot on this list.
3. My tattoos. They totally count as a part of my body since they are there forever (or until expensive laser removal). I am still insanely in love with the tattoo on my arm. After wanting it for years and years I'm surprised that I sometimes forget its even there. Then I'll catch a glimpse of it in the mirror when I'm brushing my teeth and I can't help but smile.

Do you heart your body?

TrackMaster Tricky

This post is sponsored by Nuffnang

If you’ve been playing along at home you’d know that the Trickster is obsessed with trains and we even designed our family holiday around visiting as many train-related places as possible. His beloved “toot toots” are his favourite toys.

Recently he was sent a TrackMaster Risky Rails Bridge Drop Playset to try out and practically started hyperventilating as soon as the wrapping was off. “TOOT TOOT, MA! TOOT TOOT!”



I wasn’t particularly good at building the set despite following the instructions and completely blame the enthusiastic and impatient toddler trying to help by shoving pieces in my face. The fact that Map Guy re-built it the next day in half the time it took me means nothing. NOTHING!



The only thing Tricky didn’t like about the set? The poor little dude got worried about the trains being hurt on the Bridge Drop. Is that not the cutest thing ever? He loves them so much, he thinks they’re real and kept telling me that the train was scared. So we stuck to the lower track for a while until he was brave enough to let them up the top, albeit with their wheels turn off so he could control the speed. Nawwww.

Our night time routine is a bit different now because the kid is adamant he doesn’t want to go to bed without Thomas. Every bed time now it’s “I play t'ains, mama” to the point where we’ve had to instigate a no-tracks-in-the-bedroom policy. Doesn’t mean he can’t clutch on to Thomas all night though.

I considered taking a photo when I found him at 4:30am in the lounge room, light on, playing trains a few days after the set arrived. But I was zombie-esque and also didn’t think it appropriate to capture my parenting fail - I have no idea how long he’d been there for while the rest of the house slept soundly. Oops.

To get in on the Thomas TrackMaster action create the fastest, scariest, most awesome ultimate TrackMaster track, film it and upload it to the competition page www.ultimatetrackmaster.com.

There are six weekly prizes up for grabs over 10 weeks! Each week:

1. Five entries will win a TrackMaster Risky Rails Bridge Drop Playset (the one Tricky has) and one TrackMaster Little Friends Engine.

2. One voter will win a TrackMaster Risky Rails Bridge Drop Playset and one Thomas& Friends Blue Mountain Mystery DVD.

Then comes the big kahuna prize at the end of the competition that I’m pretty sure would be Tricky’s dream come true: The entry with the most votes will win the major prize consisting of Thomas & Friends merchandise and a Puffing Billy Day out with Thomas in Victoria, Australia, including a private tuition on how to drive Thomas, valued at $8000!

So get tootin’ now!

Are you the Ultimate TrackMaster in your house?

The Cleaning Fairy

This is sponsored post for Fairy

Every so often, in a wave of laziness luteinizing hormone, I crack the shits and refuse to clean. The dishes pile up in the sink, the rim around the bath tub intensifies and the pile of dirty nappies grows so large it has its own postcode.

Within a day I realize that I have no clean plates for the next meal, I can’t take a relaxing soak in a filthy tub and the child is walking around bare-assed. I reluctantly pull myself out of the rut in the sad knowledge that I am the Cleaning Fairy in this house. I don’t have wings or halo, but I do have a scowl and a pimple. In fact I’m more Dish Witch than Cleaning Fairy.

You can have a Cleaning Fairy in your house though. Sadly, as much as I know it disappoints you, it won’t be me dressed as a fairy, but rather, a bottle Fairy Dishwashing Liquid. OK, so it won’t wash nappies or put away the laundy, but hey, for a little green bottle without wings or a halo (unless you photoshop it in like I did - ooh lense flare!), it does an ace job and lasts 50% longer than the other top brands, but don't take my word for it...

The folk at Fairy decided to really put it to the test and find out if they could wash an entire town’s plates using just one bottle of the sudsy stuff. They got celebrity chef Ben O’Donoghue to cook an amazing three course meal at a long lunch and then got a whole stack of Cleaning Fairies to wash all the dishes using just one bottle of Fairy.

They chose Margaret River for the deed. It’s a pretty quiet, sleepy place and it’s known for its wine, food, wine, surf and did I mention wine? Well, that is until its schoolies week and the population explodes and it’s known for its alco-pop seeking teens. But generally speaking, there’s a population of 9000 people and everywhere you turn you feel like you’re in a postcard or an ad for Greenpeace.

So, did they succeed? Did they manage to wash all the town's dishes from one bottle of fairies Fairy? Or did they just end up with a town full of dish-pan hands? You’ll have to have a look and find out:


Please tell me I’m not the only one who thought that would have little fairies popping out of the bottle and doing the cleaning? I even envisaged squeegee-topped wands flying over the plates and getting them clean. I’ve put way too much thought in to this, haven’t I?

I’m not jealous at all, but Ben, if you’re reading this, next time, feel free to drop around and recreate the experiment here, albeit on a slightly smaller scale. I’ve got some lovely new pots and pans you can play with and I’ll even volunteer to be Cleaning Fairy. Hell, I’ll even put on some fairy wings.

Are you the Cleaning Fairy in your house?

You can call me Captain Glow

Earlier this month I was up super early on my sleep in day yet again for another RedBalloon experience. I have an uncanny knack for scheduling them poorly it would seem.

Map Guy, Tricky and I rocked up at Jandakot Airport after a forty minute car trip filled with “I see p’anes? I see p’anes now, Ma?”, ready for me to get airborne. Turns out I wasn’t the only one looking forward to it.

And then I saw it. Oh gawd, what the fuck have I done?

It was an impossibly small Cessna aircraft and I was mean to not only fly in it but take over the controls of for my first flying lesson. Suddenly I wasn’t so excited any more. Instead I was wondering how it is even possible for something like that to fly and also, how the hell was my ass going to fit in it? I believe shitting bricks is the appropriate expression.

My pilot, Greg, was awesome though and allayed my fears. He’s had blokes weighing almost twice as much as me and is not too fussed by being sandwiched next to his students. I do believe he was a sardine in a former life.

We went through the pre-flight checks and I learnt all about Romeo Whiskey Quebec, including how to manually check how full the tanks are, how to see if the fuel is clean and how to trip over the wheel chock. At that point I wished I was with Romeo, drinking Whiskey in Quebec and not about to get in a flying tin can.

We put on our required flight wear – headsets and sunglasses. But not aviators, Greg and I agreed aviators just make you look like a wanker. Then we both channeled contortionists and folded ourselves in to the cockpit at which point I said a silent prayer of thanks to whomever it was that invented deodorant.

Squished in

I asked if I had to turn off my phone or if I could put it to flight mode so that I could take photos. He laughed. No fancy pants electronics to interfere with in this thing, it's all manual, baby! So, just because I could, I put a photo of me in the cockpit on Instagram while we were taxiing to the runway.

You can call me Captain Glow

The wind started to get really blustery as we waited for our turn on the runway and he asked if I usually got motion sickness. Ummmm yeah, about that... I’m the girl who used to throw up every single time a plane would land. Without fail. It wasn’t until I was a teenager that I managed to create my own almost foolproof strategy of focusing intently on the fasten seatbelt sign and deep breathing. But even then I’d still feel like death. I’ve even been seasick on a cruise ship. A cruise ship with 12 decks that no one else could feel moving.

He handed me some ‘Sic Sacs’ and I stuffed them in bra. What? There's no seat pocket in front ya know!  Remind me again why I decided to do this? That's right, to prove I could.

Things got serious after that because I was in charge of the throttle for takeoff. Yes, I know, I freaked out too. It was hard to hear Greg over the over the roar of the engine, and I was petrified I was going to do something wrong so I pushed it in really slowly.

At this point he asked me to do it faster since we were going to run out of runway if we kept going at 20km/h. I pushed it in and we lifted up in to the air. I can only assume I did it right because no alarms went off and we didn't crash.

It felt bloody amazing. I was flying!

Heading for the coast

We got up to 15,000 feet and the controls were handed over to me. Despite Greg being right next to me with his own set of controls to grab if I did something wrong, it was at this point I kinda wished I’d worn brown trousers. Light aircraft controls are really touchy. It was sorta like Mario Kart except when you fall from the sky a little dude on a cloud doesn’t pick you back up. I suck at Mario Kart.

The nose dipped a bit before I got used to keeping us level while turning and I felt like my stomach was going to fall out. I flew up the coast and back around for half an hour, though it seemed like five minutes. I didn't see any of the view after we got up high and I was in charge - Godzilla could have been rampaging on the ground and I wouldn't have noticed since I was concentrating so hard on keeping the Cessna steady.

We were only five minutes from landing and I’d almost lined us up to the runway when I was pretty sure I was just about to yack. I had to relinquish the controls to concentrate on my breathing and the fasten seat belt sign. Except there is no freaking fasten seatbelt sign in such a teeny tiny aircraft! GAH!

I looked around and spotted a Tiger Moth stunt plane just in front of us, getting ready to land too. I swear it hadn't been there a second earlier.

My shoulder angel told me to focus on it's bright yellow wings... my shoulder devil started screaming "What the fuck, why are we so close to another plane? WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!". At about that time the angel executed a perfect roundhouse kick and quickly shut that devil up. But needless to say, little planes fly really bloody close to each other.

We followed it down and had the smoothest touch down less than a minute after it landed and I had not been violently ill or responsible for crashing a plane. Winning.

My "hurry up and take the damn photo, I still might hurl" face

Despite almost revisiting my breakfast, I absolutely loved the flight. I love that I can tick it off my bucket list and say I've helped a plane take off, flown out over Fremantle and didn't yack at any point. If I do it again I'll be munching on ginger and anti-nausea tablets and staying up there for longer, maybe even in the Tiger Moth. Then I'd get to wear those goggle thingys, the big jacket and a scarf. Have to have the scarf.

You can fly this baby too. UPSIDE DOWN! Tiger Moth Scenic Flight

It’s just over two months til Christmas and a joy flight would make an ideal Christmas gift (just ask my dad, I got him this exact experience for his 60th!). You can get receive $30 off any RedBalloon experience over $129 by entering the promo code REDMUM05 at the checkout.



Would you fly a sardine can with wings?

Disclosure: Thanks to the team at Digital Parents Collective for inviting me to be a part of the RedBalloon Experience program. I will be sharing my awesome experiences with you over the next 6 months. Stay tuned! As always, all opinions are my own however the experiences are complimentary.