2016 was a hamster wheel of madness for us. Immigration. moving house. twice. trying to extract beloved dogs from Africa. Dealing with many levels of despair at leaving my mama. Being the house bitch. Being a 24/7 mom. trying to adult like an adultier adult than previous years. Somewhere in there I managed to lose me some mommy fat. hellfucking yeah!

This little crisp golden discovery came at a most convenient  time as we prepared (and of course take that figuratively as we did not prepare anything before 3 hours to flight time) to hit the model-saturated beaches of Australia’s Gold Coast. A week before we left, as I checked out my bootay in the only mirror we own after enjoying my weekly bathe, I recall feeling pretty chuffed. Perhaps not altogether sexy, but deep down in my core of cores,  I did believe myself to be somewhat female looking and vowed to release my dormant Bikini for this momentous holiday. I even secretly fantasized about purchasing my very own hairdryer for special occasions in the future.  Could this be the end of the yoga pant.holey panty. vommit covered mommy haze? joy upon joy. Sweet ululations abound.

In my utter excitement pre vacay, I even shaved my hoo ha. that’s right. I endured 3 painful ingrown hairs and some serious double jounted manipulation to achieve a complete clean pallete if you will, in the dark as to not alert husband to my using of his lovely new man- shaver for my groin,  just to get my nether regions up to mint condition in order to prance around in my little black bikini. How was I to foresee that the Gold Coast is in fact the perky tata and tight bun central of the world…

Indeed. What a fucking let down that was Australia.  Serious self esteem plummet. Fucking glorious creatures in various stages of undress everywhere. Grannies with six packs and gleeming camel toes peddling their antique  hipster bikes down the promenade of my broken dreams. Aboriginal glistening girlfriends frolicking in matching g strings upon the shimmering seashore. Even the kangaroo pouches seemed tighter than my pendulous stooping butt skin… and the damn constant festive nibble and wine soaked offerings day after day just drove the proverbial knife deeper into my literal back-fat.

In all fairness I continued to prance my hefty little sugar laden thighs around town in now somewhat stretched black bikini, but it has to be noted that I am to the Gold Coast what mama June is to Hollywood. Im even slightly ok with that because once I realised that the ozzie version of Enrique iglassias was never going to give more than half a glance as a pregnant possum in the roadside, I could move on and enjoy my holiday as much as the next slightly overweight mid 30 something downtrodden momma.

That being said, I am pleased to announce my sultry good looks and moves like a she -jaguar returned for one night only on New Years eve between 1 and 2 am. For those who witnessed it, I’m sure we can all agree it was absolutely magnificent, hip and electrifying, soon to be all the rage in Sydney.

Here’s to a 2017 vacation in Brakpan to regain my ego.