Warpaint (or because I'm worth it)

Recent trips away have prompted me to think about the time, money and effort I put into pampering - and why I do it.
 
In my little wheelie case for a mere two nights away, beyond the basics to wash and to clean my teeth were products to buff, defuzz and moisturise my skin, put make-up on in the morning, remove it in the evening and things to make me smell nice too. Don't tell anyone but my hair is naturally curly, meaning if I don't want to look like I've been dragged through a hedge backwards I need to trudge with me the tools needed to style it into straight submission.
 
To find out more about this very important issue I conducted a wholly unscientific survey of my friends, asking them why they primp and preen themselves. Their candour was appreciated and reflected diverse results. While there were different motivations, the common theme was that making an effort meant you projected a better image to others. As professionals, it's important to make it look like we care as like it or not, it's all part of the package. Of course, attracting the opposite (or the same) sex is a factor: whether or not you're looking to nab someone, feeling attractive and getting that second glance is always a perk. Perhaps that's the nub of it, as one of my friends observed: spending those few extra minutes in the morning making yourself feel your best helps you radiate confidence to the outside world.
 
I haven't forgotten I'd promised to share my own motivations for preening. I'd never describe myself as high maintenance but given the myriad products described above, I guess I'm further along the scale than I thought. Ultimately, it makes me feel better if I put in a bit of effort towards looking my best. I mainly do it for me, but I would be lying if I didn't admit I was trying to project a positive image of myself. I've mentioned above that my hair needs beating into submission and that takes most of my time in the morning. A bit of make-up makes me feel and look alive, which is important because unless I'm on holiday, I often don't get enough sleep (who does?). However, leaving the house barefaced isn't the end of the world for me. Something I don't do is preen before a gym workout like I've seen other women in the changing rooms do (what's that all about?), but I still have a bulging shower bag. 

Ok...I've resisted this long: it's because I'm worth it.
 

Thank you to everyone for your feedback on my recent blogs, most of which has been received via every medium but the comments section. I don't know what's wrong with it - the fault seems to be something tedious relating to browsers, or perhaps just the mood it's in. 

Anyway, should you want to persist here's a couple of tips: you don't need to log in to leave a comment and IE seems to work best. 

Until the next time... 
 

Ode to a land Down Under

A recent BBC article about misconceptions the rest of the world hold about the land Down Under inspired me to add a few points of my own. 

I lived there for a year a decade ago in Chatswood, on Sydney's 'exclusive' North Shore (as a backpacker the notion of living anywhere with such a description tickled me) with various housemates including Kiwis, a South African as well as some Aussies. Visiting on a Working Holiday visa, I had several jobs from the sublime - working at the Opera House - to the ridiculous (which I walked out of after 30 minutes).

  
In honour of Saturday's Australia Day, here's my run down of Down Under's perks and foibles, in no particular order of importance:

That would be me and the Sydney Harbour Bridge

 
1. It’s very hot (most of the time). I arrived in Sydney in April, having spent two months in the heat and humidity of South-East Asia. The temperature, in the low 20s, was pleasant shorts and t-shirt weather. The locals looked at me strangely and I likewise looked at them askance, rugged up as they were in coats. Fast forward a year, having been through the heat of an Australian summer I too was wrapped up to deal with the breezy 20 degree chill. It's all relative. The sun is a real danger for most of the year, so slip, slop, slap is rightly taken seriously - I was once told off by a GP for my pink arms.

2. Having 'the shits'. It took me a little while to figure out this meant someone was 'pissed off', not that they were sharing news about loose bowels.

3. Thongs. Pubs that like to think they are upmarket bear signs reading 'no thongs'. Thankfully the bouncers don't check your choice of underwear - they mean flip-flops. Talking of pubs, a lot of them boast the black springy stuff you get at children's playgrounds so you don't hurt yourself if you fall over after too

 many stubbies. Very thoughtful. 

4. Doctors. While Erinsborough Hospital’s doctor extraordinaire Karl Kennedy is GP, oncologist, obstetrician, neurologist to name but a few specialities, my time working at Royal North Shore Hospital revealed Australian hospitals do boast more than one doctor. Phew.

5. Drive-thru bottle shops. The frank and graphic ‘Drink, Drive, Bloody Idiot’ campaign seems at odds with drive-thru bottle shops, where you can literally fill up your car boot with booze without having to trouble to walk far. The news programmes even held state-by-state death tolls of road accidents at the 

end of bank holiday weekends. Scary stuff.

6. Spiders are HUGE. If you're an arachnophobe (or in Aussie parlance, 'great souk') like me, you need to be prepared for the eight-legged monsters. They terrorised me at work: at Telstra, I had the pleasure of being sat next to a poster bearing life-size pictures of the beasties that might be awaiting technicians in enclosed spaces. 

In another job, I was sitting at my desk minding my own business when a colleague exclaimed 'cor, look at the size of that spider!'. I looked down to see a massive huntsman (they're big and furry, like a tarantula) about a metre away. You've never seen anyone move so fast, much to the amusement of the mainly male workforce. Spider-spotting colleague gathered up the embodiment of evil using the time-honoured paper-and-glass trick, saying I'd upset the spider as he he was about to start crawling up my leg because he wanted to be my friend. So. Not. Funny. 

7. Sport. Everyone knows about rugby and cricket, but Aussie Rules (footy) is puzzling. I still don’t get it and if my sister-in-law, a die-hard Bombers fan is representative, their supporters turn into crazed lunatics while watching it. On the positive side: girls, the players look hot in their short shorts. Appeal for guys: they have some pretty good punch-ups on the pitch.  Uninitiated Poms can check it out on ESPN when the new season starts next month.

8. Size matters. A lot of Aussies are outdoorsy-sports lovers, which the climate helps. However, obesity is a lesser-known problem. I had no less than three McDonalds less than 20 minutes' walk from my home and due to such circumstances, Oz isn't far behind the US in the obesity ratings. 

9. Chocolate tastes revolting. Perhaps it’s just as well considering point 7 above, but chocolate lovers should be warned. Don't let the Cadburys wrappers lull you in to a false sense of security either – it’s all foul. Do your taste buds a favour and get your family to send aid packages from the UK. However, my Melbourne-based brother says his local supermarket now stocks Minstrels, so it's not all bad.

10. Films. Some of my favourite films are from Oz. You’ll all know the classics, but a few highlights include the funny and charming (Red Dog); the poignant  (Somersault or Proof) and the contemplative (Lantana), while Animal Kingdom is just messed up. Check them out if you get a chance.

So, all in all, Australia isn't a bad little country. Have a good one folks!

Fake it 'til you make it

No, not like that.

 
Are you still reading? 

I'm naturally contemplative and intuitive. For a long time I've wondered what secret was held by people who can best be described, euphemistically, as having more of an overt self-confidence in their own abilities.  I thought I had to be like them to get ahead. That was until I figured out a lot of them are just faking it. 

Judging from the question and comments in this article in the Guardian, faking it - including wondering whether you should to get ahead or worry about being found out -  is a common concern.

Integrity, kindness and honesty are qualities that are important to me. 'Faking' holds connotations of dishonesty and poor ethics. So, do I want to fake it to make it?

I've noticed that the people I most admire don't fake it, but have an inner confidence - in themselves as people and in their own abilities. They remain true to their own values.

A bit of faking might work at first, if only to trick the brain into doing something that frightens you out of your comfort zone. For me, part of that means being more open.

Being open is enabling me to be more ebullient, as well as passionate about the issues and people that are important to me. 

If I was faking it all the time, I'd be looking over my shoulder, waiting to be found out. That seems exhausting.

 

Shout, shout, let it all out

It's been a year since my last post. I'm disappointed with myself for letting so much time go by, as I get pleasure from writing my blog and receiving your feedback.

Writing from the heart, I put a lot of myself in my musings. Distractions in the past year have left me without much energy for writing, which is a shame as it’s a great therapy.

I am my own worst enemy. A few years ago, my coach said to me: “Gosh, Leigh, you are always so hard on yourself.” That’s true, but she also said she admired my self-awareness about the challenges I put in my own way. Sadly, I have been suppressing this for the past year and completely ignored my own advice that I blogged about last new year.

Training as a coach myself has, thankfully, given me an epiphany and reawakened my self-awareness.

During the past year, stress and anxiety became a normal state for me and as a consequence I've neglected some of the things that make me happy. I felt that denying the existence of my stress meant I was in control, but my stress was controlling me.

As a perennial people pleaser, putting my own needs second was natural to me. However, my normal habit of acquiescing for the sake of a quiet life certainly didn’t result in inner peace. To reference the Tears for Fears song of this blog’s title, a shout lets it all out. Of course it’s good to be kind to others and respect their feelings, but denying my own happiness gained nothing.

To paraphrase the Serenity Prayer, it’s important to know what you have the power to change and what you can’t. I’ve learnt it’s impossible to be all things to all people or to try to be anyone but me.

Taking the pressure off myself means I can be a bit kinder to myself. I have more positive energy available to perform even better at work (I recognise I am privileged to have a successful career doing something I'm good at, enjoy and have the feedback to support that) and to indulge in whatever I feel like doing in my spare time. Feeling fulfilled is vital to being happy.

Of course, stress can never be completely eliminated from modern daily life. The right amount of stress, usually involving fight or flight instincts, can be positive, especially in my line of work. The adrenaline shot is exciting and skill-affirming, but it must be left behind when the crisis is over.

There’s no magic wand - managing my stress and finding the right balance has got to be worked on, one step at a time. It’s not easy, but the link between stress and disease should be incentive enough to reduce unnecessary stress in anyone’s life.

One comfort is in knowing I’m not alone in having issues with stress. Talking about it really does help. So, now over to you...