Mama Güs Flies South


On Sunday 1st February, LJ, OG and myself found ourselves at the Wellington airport (Elle, I owe you a bottle of wine for organising our transport there – thanks again!) unable to check in… brilliant! We bloody would be the ones to encounter a road block at our very first stop, wouldn’t we?

It turns out that somewhere along the line, either our travel agent or the Air NZ system booked the baby on the toddler’s lap. Unfortunately, if you’re under 12 you’re not allowed to have an infant in your care, so the computer threw a wobbly at us for 45 minutes until finally no less than four attendants were able to collectively fix the issue and check us in!

The first flight was… interesting. Not only was it half an hour late leaving which was causing problems at the other end, but my children had clearly decided it was Drive Mum To Drink day. Fuck me, was I glad to see mum and my sister at the Auckland International!

The flight from Auckland to Raro was pretty good, all things considered. The disappointing thing was that I only discovered the booze was free halfway through the flight! And of course, they cut beverage service half an hour before landing. What a ripoff!

We landed in Raro at 10:30pm Saturday 31st January. Mind. Fuck. It was insanely hot, it must have been at least 26°C at that time of night. I was not prepared, and the heat never let up! I’m pretty sure I lost about 5kg of water weight with the amount off sweat coming off me while we were there.


With everything in the Cook Islands closed for church, we took today as an opportunity to explore our surroundings at the resort. We were stoked to discover that not only were we right next to the beach, but so was the pool! We drank piña coladas out of a fish bowl (seriously, that’s what they’re called!) and sunned our pasty white bodies. I also took my camera to the beach to get some shots, which sadly went for a swim when the tide suddenly rose out of nowhere! Still, I managed to get some great photos on my tablet.

Madame Bunhead on the beach

Madame Bunhead on the beach

You can see why they call this place Paradise, amiright?

You can see why they call this place Paradise, amiright?

The day concluded with a buffet dinner at the resort, which was full to bursting with local dishes and NZ Beef and Lamb! Easy enough to stick to your diet, if you can resist the temptation of a gigantic Baked Alaska…


Everything is open! We catch the clockwise bus into town in the morning, driven by the colourful Mr. Hopeless who alleged he was on day release from the prison (until 4pm). Our first stop is the pearl shop… because it’s the nearest place with air conditioning! We trawl the main drag in search of the supermarket. The prices are exorbitant! $8.60 for 1L of milk, $13.99 for a head of cauliflower! In the interest of conserving moolah, I decide I’m fine with brown rice with our lamb stew tonight! Oh, and don’t forget to pick up your $30 bottle of Lindauer… I suggest buying your booze from a liquor store, the prices are on par with some of our Liquor Kings and Mills!

We catch the clockwise bus again and get to see the whole island on the way back to the resort. Tonight, we also discover tiny geckos everywhere! We let them roam our walls in the hopes they’ll eradicate some of the teeny weeny ants that are getting into EVERYTHING.

Casually inserts cute family photo

Casually inserts cute family photo


It’s my little sister’s 21st birthday in NZ! Last night we spent a good amount of time arguing over who was going to drive the scooter if we hired one. Each of us had a fair point – neither of us trusted the other to not kill us on the road. Off we trotted to the rental place to organise a ride for the day. For $35 I got a 115cc scooter and a temporary Cook Islands license which was good for the next 26 hours, but first, I had to sit my driving test…

I got to the grassy area where they keep the vehicles and handed over my documents. The young lad taking my test managed to convey that he wanted me to sit on the back of the scooter, then proceeded to drive me around. He was talking the whole time, but I’m not sure if it was English or Cook Islands Māori he was speaking… I did manage to catch one question – “Have you driven a motorbike before?” Er… Yes. Quad bikes count, right? How hard could it be?

Kinda hard, it turns out! I even managed to hit part of a coconut tree on my first lap around the course! Thankfully, he didn’t see that. Somehow, I was declared roadworthy and sent on my merry way.

The road rules in the Cook Islands are pretty simple:

– Speed limit is 40km/h if not wearing a helmet, 50km/h if wearing a helmet

– No riding two abreast

– Watch out for stray dogs who have a death wish

– Don’t park under a coconut tree

Turns out my sister and I needn’t have squabbled over who was going to drive, when she saw me wobbling down the road she was pretty convinced that she was fine being the passenger. And a great passenger she was, too! On our way back from the supermarket she ascertained that it was us everyone was beeping at on the road, not because we were a couple of MILFs on a scooter, but because my indicator was on and nobody could figure out why we weren’t turning left…

The locals are bloody hoons on their scooters! Me, I was quite happy to stick to the speed limit. Take 40km/h, add dodgy suspension, a pillion, no helmets, and potholes the size of a toddler swimming pool (and just as deep) with a healthy dose of tropical rain all over your sunglasses and you’ve got a recipe for a trip to A&E. Extreme caution is advised!

Such rain. Many potholes.

Such rain. Many potholes.

We spent the evening watching the incredible Island Night and eating from a delicious buffet, then once the kids were in bed we went back to the bar, drank far too many cocktails and stumbled home at midnight. Party animals!


Ouch. But lots of sun and swimming.


L8gan helping me dowb the bank

And that progress shot I promised!

And that progress shot I promised!


Today’s activity was the highlight of our week! We went on Captain Tama’s glass bottom boat and saw hundreds of beautiful tropical fish, moray eels and a leatherback turtle! The fish were so tame, they came close enough to touch when we were out snorkeling.

Their first time on a boat. Big brother holds little sister's hand and makes sure she's safe ♡

Their first time on a boat. Big brother holds little sister’s hand and makes sure she’s safe ♡

We stopped off at No Touching Island and had a beautiful fresh fish BBQ with delicious tuna and some local produce. This was followed by a demonstration of how to husk and open a coconut, and how to extract the cream from the white meat. I even got a full green coconut to myself, given to me by the guide, Chocolate (Paraone, to the boys!) who wanted to make sure I had enough milk to feed the baby. He gave her some of the immature jelly-like meat from the green coconut to munch on, which she seemed to love! We watched a man scale a coconut tree in under 10 seconds and lazed on the beach. What a life!

Bia gives me a coconut demo

Bia gives me a coconut demo

Getting an excellent tan!

Getting an excellent tan!

Giggles on the boat

Giggles on the boat

The day lasted from 10am to 3pm, so it’s no wonder the tykes were all tuckered out before we were even halfway home!

Tucjered out tykes


The day I’ve been excited and nervous about since Tuesday! You see, the reson we actually went in to town that day was to book in my newest artwork…

So, 7:40am the bus rocks up to reception. Actually, it’s more like 7:50am, because Island Time is actually a thing over there. Like, “look at the sun, looks like it’s somewhere around 10am. Yep, cool, we’ll go with 10am” Island Time. Not NZ Island Time – “yes, I own a watch and I use it often so I can always be no more than10 minutes late”.

Anyway, anyway. Bus rocks up. Appointment is at 8:30am, next bus is at 8am BUT it’s the anticlockwise bus, so we would be late if we caught it. I go around and pay the driver while mum gets Bia out of the pram. She comes around with this look of horror on her face and I’m like ‘come on man, hurry up’ and she says two words, in capital letters. MASSIVE. POONAMI.

Oh my little angel. Sure enough, all up her back, all over the pram, and all over mum. Runny mango chicken poos with bits of rehydrated raisin speckled throughout. She sure knows her timing, does our girl!

We manage to get her on the bus where LJ is sitting patiently on a mama’s lap. We’re both pretty shocked that he’s sitting quietly on a stranger’s knee, but thankful he’s happy as we’re cleaning up the carnage while the bus bumps along the main road.

We get to the market and LJ happily chases around chooks while the pram gets a clean, then off we trot to find coffee. The skies open up and we manage to find a caravan with some canvas umbrellas. The coffee is surprisingly tasty, and halfway through we figure out it’s made with coconut cream instead of milk. Makes sense though, why use milk which is horrendously expensive when you can stretch a native resource just as well as you can soy milk, pop it in the joe and not even mention it’s coconut, just watch people drink it, like it, then slowly realise it’s not what they thought it was but keep drinking it anyway?!

8:30am rolls around and the sky clears and the birds come out again, so we head off to the tattoo place. Hilariously, we get our first proper run in with Real Legit Hardcore Island Time. The tattooist is there, but his mate who is doing the outline is…wait for it…1 and a half hours late! But it’s cool, because it gives me time to feed the baby, figure out a design, learn about the medicine tree in the backyard, and have a real conversation with a local about surfing, insects, bloody coconuts, rugby, kids, and tourists!

Finally his mate shows up, and we get started.

Getting tatt

It’s pretty sore, but not as bad as the big one on my side! I find I can breathe through it, and in under an hour he’s done the outline and his partner finishes the shading. These guys have got some serious moves! I’ve never had someone draw a design on with a ballpoint pen before (as well as using the carbon paper method, I might add), and I’ve never had a tattooist use the same needle for block colour, lines and shading until now!

The new addition, still a little tender!

The new addition, still a little tender!

Saturday/Actually Sunday in NZ

Home time. Up we get at sparrow’s flatulence in the morning, 4am NZ time, and the next 12 hours are spent in transit. There’s no free booze on the way home which is a shame, but at least the kids both slept on the whole flight from Auckland to Wellington. I even got some shuteye too, and woke up with my entire boob hanging out of my singlet – so if you’re the person who was sitting next to me on that flight, I’m very sorry you had to see that.

It’s a bit cold here in the South Pacific. I think we need another family holiday – and by that I mean just Josh and I. The kids can stay home this time!

Next trip will be our honeymoon at the end of December. Where would you go?

Ahh, Rarotonga. I want to come back. Take your time, and hurry up.





Mama Güs Time Travels


Happy New Year everyone! It’s been over a month since my last piece and I’ll let you in on a little secret – Denial is not just a river in Egypt, I’ve been drowning in it this month!

A couple of weeks ago on January 12th I wrote this about myself in a private Facebook group:

‘This morning I stood in front of the mirror in our bedroom and I genuinely liked my body. I can see the old tone coming back and the shape I loved! Said to Josh “Oh my God, this diet and exercise Nazi shit is working! And he said “Fuck yeah, you look hot! You’re doing great babe.”


PS I love my stretch marks. They are so beautiful ♡’

Today… well… I still love my stretch marks, but my diet and exercise has suffered in the last few weeks! I’ve had a run of bad luck which is really what it boils down to. After a foot injury from an unfortunate Foot vs Toy Train incident on the 2nd of January, I spent bang on 2 weeks hobbling around struggling to walk, let alone intensively exercise. My 30 Day Shred lasted 4 days when I finally benched it and moved to low intensity abs instead. Then, the day I was comfortable walking and exercising on that foot again, I was mowing the lawns when the bloody bastard catcher fell off the back of the mower and flung a bee into my gumboot, which promptly stung me in the EXACT SAME SPOT the train had landed on! Now, I’ve never been allergic to bees in my life, so imagine my surprise when my foot swelled up like a blowfish and stayed that way for a week and a half! For your amusement…

Lefty's having a fat day

Lefty’s having a fat day

So there’s that. And then yesterday, after 2 days of ‘what do you want for dinner’ I gave up and said “let’s just get some bread rolls so we can graze all day, I really can’t be bothered!” Later, while I was making myself a sandwich my darling OH said “be careful how many of those bread rolls you eat babe…” to which I replied “beg ya pardon?!”

“Well it’s just… last week you were looking really slim and… now your tummy’s really bloated.”

Bless him.

But of course, he’s absolutely right. He’s often right, and I will always admit when he is (much to my dismay)! From now on I’m going to combat the evil grain fallback by just cooking dinner and not asking what people ‘feel like’. I’m taking the ‘Eat It Or Bloody Well Starve’ approach 😉

The thing is, now that my foot has healed and I’m only just feeling confident that I can rekindle my relationship with Jillian Michaels and not totally incapacitate myself, it’s the hottest time of year here in NZ with 30°C+ in Upper Hutt, and between that horrible heat, the bastard fucking SWARMS of disgusting flies that comes with it, a teething 6mo and a terrible (terrific) 2yo I am finding little to no motivation to work up a sweat! I mean, I just washed my hair, for crying out loud!

There is one last motivator immediately available to me though… my new (seriously cheap!) bikini and culottes arrived from ASOS today and while I don’t really care what I look like for the other people at the resort, I’d love to have some great photos to show Josh when we get back from Rarotonga! We’re leaving on Sunday for a week. So, in a week’s time (for me, a week and a day for you) while I’m sitting by the pool drinking piña coladas and tanning this paper white ass, I’ll post you an update – this bikini HAS TO FIT! I may even have a new weight to post, at the start of the year I was sitting at just under 74kgs…

Until Raro, I leave you with these!


Front view of the new 'kini

Front view of the new ‘kini

Side view

Side view

Side view of the new shorts - top is an oldie from

Side view of the new shorts – top is an oldie from

Mama Güs’ Top 5 Xmas Tips


It’s the hap-happiest time of the year! The tree is up, the decorations are on the top half only (parents of babies and toddlers will feel me), the presents are still hidden – yet to be wrapped – in various locations around the house to A) satisfy my paranoia that if we get broken into, at least they may not find and steal EVERY hard-earned gift, and 2) ensure the other half doesn’t find out what he bought himself for Xmas yet (I’m a feckin’ brilliant hider of presents, any time of the year).

Best of all, for the first time in 3 years I’ve managed to make it to Xmas without getting pregnant again! That deserves a champagne breakfast I reckon.

In my opinion, this really is the most wonderful time of the year (even more so since I’ve had children!) because there’s nothing better than finding the perfect gift for everyone, sitting around the tree in the morning watching crazy kids rip the shit out of wrapping paper, and then stuffing your face full of ham and pavlova before rolling yourself outside to have an afternoon nap under a tree. Followed by two weeks of ham at every. bloody. meal. Waste not!

Christmas time is full of end-of-year work do’s, batshit crazy frenzy shopping, alcohol-fueled romance, toddlers who are terrified of the scary red man with the big white beard, and then to top it all off there’s a big old party to celebrate another year over, a new one just begun. So without further ado, here’s a few things to think about as we embark on the final two weeks of the year:

1: You’ll be going back to work next year, so you probably shouldn’t get naked at the staff party…

Staff parties are awesome (especially if you work in hospo). They’re your boss’s way of saying “I appreciate you. Please don’t leave me. Here, have 12 shots of tequila. I love you too.” They’re a place where you can get a little bit silly – it is the silly season, after all – and blow off a little steam with your colleagues before you take between 2 to 6 weeks’ holiday over the Summer. But don’t forget, after that break you’re going to go back (unless you’re heading to a new job) and while it might seem like an awesome idea at the time to stand naked on a balcony table and show the passers-by your helicopter, smartphones and the internet exist, and Janine from Accounts is still kinda pissed at you for stealing her tuna on rye last month…

2: The most popular birth date in NZ is 28th September…

So buy your pregnancy tests now, before they start flying off the shelves at the end of January. Or, alternatively, buy condoms! They’re cheaper, and you get more bang for your buck.

3: It’s a lovely gesture, but your 9-month-old nephew doesn’t want an iPad.

Parents, grandparents, aunties, uncles and anyone else with a significant small person in your life – I get that the temptation to buy a berjillion gifts for your small person is overwhelming. I guess it’s each to their own here, and at the end of the day you can buy them as much or as little as you damn well see fit, but IMHO peaking too soon is setting yourself up for a bit of financial strain in the future – it’s like starting at a corvette instead of working up from a balance bike. How do you even top that next year? Forward-planning, folks.

An excellent idea I’ve come across a couple of times is to wrap up a full box of tissues and give it to your baby or toddler. It might sound like a stink gift to you, but you’re not two. You don’t get the same kick out of ‘Pull The Tissues Out One By One And Then Put Them All Back In’ but trust me, the kid is loving it. Then the following year, you can wrap your plasticware cupboard door and let them go to town ‘organising’. Baby steps.

4: Despite what you think, you’re not the only person shopping at the supermarket this week.

Oh please, by all means, leave your trolley in the middle of the goddamn aisle. And yes, it’s may favourite thing to practice using my xray vision to see through you when you stop in front of the shelf I’m looking at.

And don’t be a dick to the staff, because nobody should have to listen to Christmas carols by One Direction and Mariah Carey on repeat 12 hours a day. “Where is the apple sauce, please?” will get you a much better response (“aisle 4, ma’am, come I’ll show you to it”) than “Get out of my way, I need apple sauce!” (“It’s not here, it’s in a different aisle!”). Yes, they realise that ‘it’s the customer who ultimately pays their wages’ (what a bitch! God I still remember that woman’s face to this very day. So pitbullish.) but that doesn’t make them your bitch. Calm the fuck down, and follow them to aisle 4.

It’s also a good idea to allow plenty of time for your shopping because while you may think you can be in and out in 20 minutes, I guarantee you that’s how long you’re going to spend in the line at the checkout! Yet another reason why online grocery shopping is the bomb.

5: Going out for dinner or drinks on New Year’s Eve is awesome! For you…

You’re out for an awesome dinner, the chef has pulled out all the stops, the restaurant has pulled 40 extra tables out of its arse and there’s only so many workers you can fit on the floor so the wait staff, bartenders and kitchen are getting rammed from every angle imaginable. But do they stop? Fuck no! They’re here to give you a memorable New Year’s, and they’re gonna damn well do it! They’ll keep the champagne flowing, they’ll hide your engagement ring in your soon-to-be fiancee’s dessert, they’ll give you an extra shot in your cocktail, and they’ll smash out seven courses for 80 tables like they’re cooking for their lives. They will give you their heart and soul tonight! So, what with Christmas being the time of giving, it’s only fair to give back! Add an extra beer or a shot of tequila to your bill for them to have after service (or when the clock strikes 12), or leave them a tip so they can buy themselves a new pair of shoes after they’ve worn through their soles tonight. They don’t get paid as well as you think they do, and while they will never expect you to tip, they will appreciate it immensely. And make sure you pop by the kitchen window and thank the boys and girls for the meal! Those guys love having their egos caressed 😉


Merry Crimbo, one and all! Have a safe holiday, and best of luck for the new year – whatever it has in store for you. Me? I’m going back to uni, AND getting MARRIED! Weeeeeeeeeeee!

Mama Güs is ready to quit


I’m done. Screw it. Had enough. I quit! I can’t do this 80/20 primal thing any more! I went in promising myself that I wouldn’t let anyone or anything make me eat the foods that make me feel slow, lethargic, fat and useless, and I broke that promise, and keep doing it at least once a week! It’s either all or nothing, no in-between.

I choose ALL.

There, I said it. All Primal, no grains, no legumes, no sugar. No. Fucking. Excuses! I QUIT SHIT!

I’ve been trying to adhere to this lifestyle as best I can since, what, September? Ish. I started off really well, went through those nasty sugar withdrawals that turn me into a fire breathing dragon and give me the junkie shakes – no wonder, refined sugar is like Cocaine for the brain, it takes a lot of willpower to kick that habit in the ass. Then the weekend rolled around, and instead of cooking dinner we phoned in pizza. And it began again, quickly turning into a vicious cycle of angry withdrawals followed by a cheat day followed by angry withdrawals…

I’ve been using exercise as a way to channel that anger, but I can’t exercise every waking minute of the day – I don’t have that kind of stamina! Consequently I’ve been walking around with a face like a smacked arse on the low days. I must be a really fun person to be around.

The last few weeks have been hard. I’ve been measuring myself often, about once a week or every 10 days, and while I’ve noticed that my pants are looser and my waist is definitely smaller, there’s one thing I haven’t been able to change lately – that spare tyre around my middle. After the first month, I had lost an inch, but now it’s back again. I found it hiding in a Chinese Takeaway box.

So now what?

Well it’s time to regroup and focus again on the end game – The Wedding. 1 year, 2 weeks and 1 day from now that pooch is gonna be ancient history, my arms will be lean and toned, and those love handles will be gone daddy gone. I’ll be standing there next to my handsome husband and I will feel like his equal in sexiness, not some frumpy lumpy puffed up meringue. We will look bloody BRUCE in those wedding photos!

Am I Primal today? Yes. And every day henceforth. I will make dinner. I will not eat takeaways. I will kick my own arse every day in my workouts, because the only person I’m cheating is myself, and cheating doesn’t get me the body I want. So take a good look guys, because this is the last time you’re going to see me like this:

So many wobblies

So many wobblies

Facebook: Mama Güs and The Waddlers

Instagram: @mamaguus

Are you on a health and wellbeing journey? How do you stay motivated? How are you progressing so far?

Mama Güs is downsizing


I can’t believe I’m writing this but… it’s happening! We’ve finally booked our wedding venue and are starting to make real live actual plans for the big day. I can’t wait to marry the love of my life, and, it gets even better. So far, over the past 40 days, I’ve seen a noticeable change in my body.

This was me, 40 days ago.

This was me 40 days ago.

Can you see the difference?

In hindsight, a white background was probably an average call, given that my body seems to be blending in with the wall in places...

In hindsight, a white background was probably an average call, given that my body seems to be blending in with the wall in places…

Ok, so maybe it’s a little hard to tell what you’re looking at. This, my friends, is a loss so far of 2.5 inches each from my waist and hips/butt, and half an inch from that jiggly old mummy tummy. How awesome do I look?!

Over the last few weeks I’ve found myself having to walk or run everywhere, what with Josh now taking the car to work so he can slave his guts out EVEN MORE than he already was (who would have thought that even possible? Not I, but there we go!) while getting The Doddfather up and running at the Queen of Jackson.

Last weekend I ran from our house to the supermarket pushing 25 kilos in the buggy – that’s two babies, a bag, and the weight of the buggy itself – just to buy cacao nibs and psyllium husks. On the way home, I stopped to pick up a hand mower and wheeled this rickety, clinky clanky thing 1 kilometre down the road to my house. It sounded like someone rattling a bucket of nails in an empty cathedral, you could have heard me coming from miles away. I then had a go at mowing our lawn. Yeah, nah.

I’ve also been running to pick Logan up from daycare during the week, setting myself little goals along the way. Today I ran 2.98km in just under 25 minutes, and walked a further 4km.

“Just 20 more minutes, you can do it.

Run to the next street and you can take a little break.

Well, you’re here now, might as well keep running.

Don’t forget you ate 4 slices of paleo cake today.

They were tiny.

Still. Cake is cake.

Ok, the next 50m. Ok 100m. 20 seconds more. 15 more seconds. Half a minute. Hey, I’ve been running for 12 and a half minutes now! I can’t feel the burning sensation in my legs anymore!

That’s going to come back, don’t worry.

15 minutes. Ouch.

Can’ t. Feckin’. Breathe.


So. Thirsty.

(gasp) *checks watch* 5 more minutes!

Just get to that white van.

Keep going, stop at Bathurst street.

2.98km, good shit. Bet you can’t walk tomorrow.”

And that’s really just a snippet of the conversation that happens in my head when I’m pounding pavement.

The past few weeks have been pretty awesome, actually. I’m feeling much more energised, my skin has gotten clearer, and I’ve eaten some awesome food! Just because I’m excluding grains from my diet, doesn’t mean there’s nothing left to eat!

I’ve loved snapping pics of what’s coming out of the kitchen and popping them up on Instagram, although I’m getting a bit tired of the ‘follow my page!’ posts every other time. One in particular has posted on two of my photos today asking me to like their page. As if my one like is going to make any difference at all! Tell ya what, if I actually like your page, I’ll ‘like’ your page. Now bugger off with your 20,000+ followers!

I’ve also come across some unnecessary comments. One user asked “since when is cheese paleo?” – come on now. If you don’t eat cheese, don’t put cheese in the dish, simple! I eat cheese, and yoghurt, and butter, because I’m not paleo. Get over it, purist.

I’ve had a total of 3 cheat days over these few weeks, and I can honestly say that I really did notice the difference in my body after eating grainy, sugar-laden foods. I get lethargic and insanely bloated, amd my excema flares up on my fingers – an incredibly annoying affliction. My hayfever isn’t too bad at the moment, either, though I’m not sure if my primal lifestyle has anything to do with that just yet.

Anyway, thanks for stopping by and having a read of my journey so far, I’m pretty convinced you’re the only person who reads this crap, so cheers for sticking it out to the end!

Keep an eye on my page for more yummy food and bragging posts about how far I’ve run in a day. And if you’re ever in Upper Hutt and feel like getting active, come run with me! I won’t be able to talk, but we can huff and puff at each other and giggle at our beet red faces 😉

Instagram: @mamaguus

Mama Güs hates hooters


Guys don’t get it, but women get this all the damn time. It’s completely random. You could be all dolled up for a dinner reservation, wandering to your car after hot yoga, pushing a pramful of babies down the road – it doesn’t matter what you’re doing or how you look, it’s apparently always ok to throw obscene comments at a woman in public.

“Nice ass, it’d look better on my d***!”

(Thanks, I highly doubt that)

“Nice tits, baby!”

(Glad you like the tennis-ball-in-a-sock effect, but I’m not your baby)

“I love a girl that sweats”

(Every woman sweats, you mutant)

“Bleeeeeeeee, woo woo, yeah!”

(There are no words)

And my absolute favourite, just as they’re about to drive past you – BEEP BEEP “Hey, MILF!”

Holy shit. I swear, before I had kids I was never this jumpy but now, every time someone honks their horn, I leap a foot off the ground and clutch my heart like it’s exploding, while yelling “FFFFUUUUUUCCKKKKK!!!” And subsequently wake my poor wee baby who was sleeping like a little angel, up until that very moment those effing pricks decided it was a great idea to yell at the woman walking down the road minding her own business and enjoying the sunshine.

Something I’ve noticed about this is that men behave differently depending on whether or not there are others around.

When I walk down the road, I actively seek eye contact with people as we pass each other, and smile and say hello, because it’s nice to acknowledge other humans in a positive way. So when I’m walking down the road and a man on his own coming towards me sees me, turns his back to me and then leers at my ass as I’m walking past (yes, I caught you, and by the way you really needed to shower that day) it’s pretty easy to pick up on that (and kind of violating, if I’m being honest). If you’re going to check someone out, be less obvious.

When men are in groups of two or more (generally in cars) they tend to be very overt in their appreciation of the female form because they have the protection and encouragement of other wastes of oxygen around them.

Then there’s the one girl in a car full of guys scenario. Let me tell you now, she is the absoluteworst kind of girl you’ll encounter. “It’s called a condom, you fat *****” (archaic word that might suggest one is prone to taking payment for sexual contact). Oh come on, really? Well done. I hope you feel very special now, because even though I’m comfortable in my skin and these two beautiful babies were very much wanted and are very much loved, you’ve still managed to hurt me with your showing off!

Last thing I’ve noticed is that this NEVER happens if I’m walking down the road with another man! Whether it be my fiancé, a friend or relative, no man is yelling if he thinks he can’t take on the one I’m walking with! So, what, do I know have to surround myself with burly blokes with don’t-fuck-with-me faces to protect myself from unwanted attention?

Hey, here’s a crazy idea, why don’t we instead teach young men that this type of behaviour is DISGUSTING? Imagine that! Imagine if instead of telling women not to walk home in the dark, or wear shorts and skirts in summer, we taught men to not be nasty, leery, rapey dirtbags?! (Now is a good time to mention that I’m well aware there are thousands of wonderful, gentle, decent men in the world and I know most of the men I’m acquainted with fall under that category 🙂 )

Oh, to be a man. To not have to answer for baring skin in public. To not be expected to fit into society’s tight yoga pants and string bikinis. To not have to plan your after-dark walk home along a crowded, well-lit route. To not feel the need to take your belt off your waist and fasten it around your thighs if you have too much to drink at a party and need to lie down. To be able to accept a drink from a stranger and not worry about what their intentions are. To walk down the road, unmolested (physically and verbally).

A few years ago I was out with some girlfriends in town and a drunk guy walked past and squeezed my ass. I whirled around, grabbed his arm and made a HUGE scene in the middle of the street, until the cops came and baled him up against a wall. Breaking down in tears, he told them he was “just having a bit of fun”. They asked me if I wanted to press charges, and I said yes. The following day they called me again and asked if I was SURE I wanted to press charges. Feeling like an inconvenience, I declined. I still don’t know how I feel about it – did I take it too far, or not far enough? It sure wasn’t ‘fun’ for me having my dress lifted up and butt grabbed in public, no matter how short it was. It shouldn’t matter how short it was, right? I wasn’t asking for it, I just wanted to go out dancing. But by declining to press charges, did I then reinforce the idea that he could get away with it? Or did I save him (and potentially his family) a lot of angst by letting it go?

I guess I won’t know the answer to that dilemma, and I still feel icky about it when I think of it now (it doesn’t weigh on my mind, I haven’t thought about it in well over a year at least). I can’t even say what I would do if it happened tomorrow, or in 10 years. Let’s hope that we never have to find out.

‘Girls just wanna have FUN-(damental rights.)’


Mama Güs goes Primal


This is me. Fur real. And real fur. But I’m not

talking this kind of Primal, because I don’t think I’d last too long in windy old Welly in this getup!

Going back to how our ancestors did it... just not that far

Going back to how our ancestors did it… just not that far

No, I’m talking about the grain free, wheat free, sugar free, almost-paleo-but-not-quite-because-I-love-cheese-and-butter-too-much lifestyle that more and more people have been returning to in order to lose weight and live healthier. There are so many reasons to eat healthy and live well but for me the three main ones are: Josh, Logan and Olivia.

So why now? Why so suddenly obsessing over product labels and eating heaps of full fat, delicious, healthy foods?

Two words: Fed Up.

If you haven’t watched it then bloody hell, watch it. You may never wish to eat sugar again after watching it, and that is probably a good thing.

There is another reason though…

I’ve been blessed with two beautiful wee babies, and naturally my body has grown and changed very dramatically. I’ve been either pregnant or breastfeeding for two and a half years (for real!) and diet and exercise has sadly taken a back seat in amongst all the chaos that comes with being the mother of two under 2. To give you an indication of just how dramatic that change has been, here’s me in 2009 (I’m using this photo for reasons that will become clear soon).

It's hard to believe that 2.5 years ago I still looked like this!

It’s hard to believe that 2.5 years ago I still looked like this!

Yup, I was very proud to live in that body! 19 years old and too poor to afford food, living in Wellington where every destination is at the top of a hill, it only took me a few months to lose the belly from the boarding school days and tone up that big ol’ butt. This body was great! It got me lots of modelling jobs and extra work on TV shows that helped me pay the rent, but maintaining it was hard… I took up smoking and ate very little, which meant I was tired all the time and drinking a lot of coffee at work (I was also working in a restaurant with an awesome crowd and we partied A LOT with all that leftover wine at the end of service). Eventually I did get sick, got put on medication, and had a panic attack at work. Yikes.

The best thing for me was getting pregnant with our now 21-month-old, because it meant that I suddenly couldn’t stand cigarettes and had this wonderfully insatiable appetite for truffled mashed potatoes. The weight happened. For 16 weeks I thought I was just packing away a little extra for winter, but then I went to the doctors for flu medication and came out with iodine and folic acid prescriptions. Of course, with Josh being a concerned father-to-be and a chef, I was well fed throughout both my pregnancies and had two beautiful, strong, healthy children as a result. Now, two and a half years later, I look like this:

5th October 2014, same person, different body

5th October 2014, same person, different body

I am even more proud of this body. My tiger stripes show where my body grew to accommodate a tiny person. That extra fat kept them warm and safe from pointy corners. Those hips got wider to fit an entire body out of…there. And dem titties!

The only issue I have is that I don’t feel healthy at all. Busy mums will know just how easy it is to say “Fuck cooking, let’s get pizza” at the end of a long day full of screaming toddlers and clingy babies. My worst week I didn’t cook dinner once, we got takeaways or ate toast and Logan had tinned Wattie’s or what we were having if it was appropriate. Not cool. Something had to change, because loathing oneself is pretty toxic and not conducive to a happy, healthy lifestyle. Then, I discovered Primal Kitchen and my whole attitude to food has changed. It’s been two weeks since I started ordering my meals from them and eating Primal and Paleo approved foods and I have not only felt a difference, I can see one too!

After the first week, I put on a pair of pants without jumping up and down ONCE! Only the week before, that same pair of pants was so tight around my butt I was afraid to sit down. Now, after two weeks, I have shed an entire inch from my waist, and another from my hips. I don’t weigh myself because I don’t want to go by a number on scales but by how I look and feel, but I would guess that I’m down to about 75kgs now, from a starting point of 79kgs. I definitely feel lighter, and stronger from all the walking I’ve been doing with our new double pram on those lovely sunny days, and pacing the living room with Olivia at night. I think I’ve picked a great time to start this journey, because it’s not quite bikini season but there’s still the odd beautiful get-outside-and-do-something-with-this-golden-weather day to ease me into doing some real good cardio and resistance training.

Before I go, I just have to mention someone again, without whom it wouldn’t be possible to keep myself motivated. My wonderful fiancé, Josh. Thank you for keeping me on track, financing my journey, giving me two gorgeous children to be incredibly proud of, and always telling me I’m still beautiful no matter what I weigh.


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