“Delightfully tacky, yet unrefined”

So … a new Hooters is opening at The Buzz Centre in Fourways just in time for the opening of the world cup soccer.  “Delightfully tacky, yet unrefined” is the slogan for Hooters, and according to Wikipedia (My Quran), Hooters is a, ahem, family restaurant, that …”is based on female sex appeal and the work environment is one in which joking and entertaining conversations are commonplace.”  All the staff are female and are there to parade around in front of the customers in small outfits. Classy.

I can’t wait. I want to be a Hooters Girl. Yes,  yes I do. I want to wear the horrendous orange hot pants and white “Hooters” tank top emblazoned with the gangling owl logo and pristine white shuffle socks. What’s more is I think I’d do a magnificent job at it too.

 Should I be on psychiatric drugs and have multiple sessions of shock treatment?

How much do breast implants cost again?!

Watch this space.

"Delightfully tacky, yet unrefined...."

Drawing the line between growing & learning and using & abusing

I like to think that through every relationship I have had with another person, I have discovered something about myself, grown in some way or another and learnt valuable lessons. As far as I’m concerned, there is no such thing as a “failed relationship”, only ones that have ended. For how can you consider it a fail if you have gained something in the process?

People come in and out of our lives at different times, for different reasons. When a relationship ends, although it’s tough, I generally leave feeling guilt free and content. Sure, initially there may be some regret (the “I should have done this, I could have said that” phase), but in the long run I know that people come in and out of our lives for a certain purpose. I’m not saying I haven’t taken a few emotional bullets over the years or had my heart ripped out and grated. I’m not saying it doesn’t ache and leave unbearable pain that makes you seriously consider performing a partial lobotomy on yourself to forget the person. I’m not saying it doesn’t make you just that more cynical and skeptical about this “love” thing, or possibly more determined to find “the one” *yeah right!*, but ultimately it ends. It goes away and you move on. Hopefully you can eventually look back and see what you have gained from this supposed “failure”. That’s the thing about needs. Sometimes when you get them met, you don’t need them anymore.

Or have I got it all wrong?

Should I feel guilty about having gained from a relationship when the other party seems to feel that they have only lost? Because I can see what I gained from the relationship and the other party can’t? As is the case with my “first big love”. It ended. I look back and can see what I’ve learnt – the good and the bad. I grew because of it and he didn’t. Okay, that’s not fair. He did grow – yes, grow to love wearing Army Green and blowing off people’s heads – but growth all the same. Yet he still pulls the guilt card every time I bump into him. What right do we have to make someone else feel guilty about a relationship ending because we haven’t yet come to terms with the ending of it? I didn’t behave like skanky the home wrecker, yet that’s how he treats me.

I’m tired of being labeled a user & abuser., so I’m choosing to be a grower & learner.

I can’t believe it.

“…well neither can I, but here I am, Mary fucking poppins”

A new start, a new blog. This time I’m blogging for me, the real me (when I find this me). The exposed, fragile, awesome me.

I’ve just culled the pretense out of my life. It was possibly one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, leaving me super exposed. My life has changed (for the better, or that’s what I’m telling myself) so much in the last week it’s scary, and all I can fathom up is a “YOH.” If you’d told me a month ago I’d have made so many drastic changes in a week I would have given you the raised eyebrow.

Culling of the pretense meant ultimately culling large chunks of who I thought I was too. I wish I could have seen my life from another point of view over the past 3 years. I cannot believe that I let myself become so fake and so entrenched in pretense. (Pretense – favorite word of the day?)

I’m kind of not sure who I am anymore. I know what I love, what I’m passionate about but does that make me who I am!?

I love art.
I love fashion & innovation & quirky movies. I get ‘mamoth moths’ (‘butterflies’ is too corny a line) when I make something with my own hands. For me creating & couture and everything that goes with it are like what I imagine falling in love is like. Not superficial, can’t live without you, act like a teenager love. Real, emotional, soulful, painful love. Love…. without the bullshit.