Category Archives: Acts Like a Lady

my girly side

Mirrors Hair Lab.

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If you type “best hair salon in Cape Town” into Google then Mirrors Hair Lab comes up first. (Thanks to a survey ran in 2013) And it’s not hard to understand why. With its quirky ‘home feel’ interior, and its personable and personal attention.

I was invited as part of ‘media’ to a pamper session at Mirrors, where I got to meet Candice. She told me about her passion for treating every customer like family, and rather having less customers that she can dedicate full attention to than making them feel part of an assembly line of cuts. I totally get her approach, because we are all pretty precious about our hair. We want to feel heard, and re-heard as we debate the fringe length for the 15th time. It matters to us, ok! This salon also has nice inside and outside chill areas, so you can hang out.

Perks I found: Parking. It’s the bane of Cape Town, trying to find good/free parking – anywhere. Mirrors is located 2 Molteno Rd, Gardens. Thats right next to De Waal Park. So there’s ample parking along the road.

Fairies. The theme is quirky with mirror balls and fairy trinkets everywhere inside. Throwing me back to happier times of my childhood. There were even ‘Fairy Oracle Cards’ on the table where i sat – nothing wrong with that. I’m sold.

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Service. With clearly capable hands, Candice whipped my hair into ringlet locks quicker, and more beautifully than ever before. As a girl with terminally straight and limp hair, I have tried endlessly to acquire this type of effect. Left me bouncing out of there feeling like a mermaid.

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Candice previously worked as Western Cape colour technician for L’Oreal and Redken where she gained international experience in Paris and London. She regularly styles for SA Fashion Week with Redken. Candice is also a make-up artist and is often tasked with helping clients look their best for weddings and special occasions. So she knows what’s up.

We were gifted with some hair goodies as a take-away and I’m pretty obsessed with this Matrix Amazonian Murumuru hair oil (that was used on my hair in the above photo). You run it through damp hair before styling for gloss, control and yum-smell! Or you can use it at the end of styling to smooth down those fly-aways.

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Tune into my radio show this Friday the 13th 1-3pm. I’ll have Candice in Studio to chat hair care, hair trends and hot products. (I’ll also have someone from Gordon’s Dry Gin to chat about why I recently went GREAT WHITE SHARK CAGE DIVING! – but that’s for another blog-post! )

Book at Mirrors and let me know how you liked it. I definitely want to visit again, to try some more of the treatments etc.

Mirrors Hair LabCandice: 2 Molteno Rd, Gardens 021 424 3931

*Hair Five*

 

 

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All the Tea in Cape Town.

“Tea” at the Mount Nelson has always been heralded as one of the most decadent and ‘must do’ things in Cape Town. I finally tried it for myself this past Sunday Morning. And it was as luxurious and colonial as Queen Victoria would expect.

Everything about the Mount Nelson is decadent. From the thrillingly pink walls, the palm lined driveway and the exploding flowerbeds around the emerald manicured lawns. It screams 5 star. The service of the Morning Tea is no different. When I’m at these fine dining type places, I always want to whisper in the waiter’s ear as they unfold my starched napkin for me; “Don’t worry, I’m not rich, you don’t have to be so nice to me” because it leaves me feeling like a fraud.

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If you haven’t been (as I hadn’t) the sun room is spectacular. It felt like The Opulent India of the 1800s. They have huge arrangements of potted flowers flanking the doorway which opens into a serene garden, with high trees, hibiscus and a central fountain, filling the area with the giggling sound of sparkling water falling into a pond. Bliss.

Now, it’s a bit pricey and I’m not going to say ‘but it was worth it’. But it kinda was. For Morning tea (the cheaper option, as opposed to High Tea) Including tip, you’re looking at around R215 per person for what’s essentially tea and scones. But you’re not going for Tea and Scones. You’re going for the fountain and the waiter making you feel royal, and the birdsong, and the real sunflowers smiling at you. If you bear that in mind, it’s much more worth it.

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The tea is served in fine bone china and glass tea-pots so you can see the infusion. Our waiter spoke about tea like a somalier talks about wine. Explaining the different infusions, blends, notes, tones and even which ones compliment which flavours and palates. I really enjoyed the respect shown to my most beloved beverage. (You can drink as many pots and kinds of tea as you want. No extra charge.) The waiter was so good at upselling that my first tea flavour choice was blue cornflower earl grey tea. I hate earl grey tea. I loved this one.

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The food is exactly what you’d hope from a poncy colonial tea experience. Complete with cucumber and cream cheese sarmies. Tim Noakes fans of Banting need not apply to this tea – as every single thing was dripping in sugar and carbs. Finger sandwiches, croissants, scones, chocolate ganache cake, cheesecake, banana bread and spinach quiche. It was more than I could finish, and they let me take a doggy bag – which thrilled me.

High Tea is slightly more expensive as it’s a buffet with much of the same ingredients (and many more). Buffets are sneaky little monsters. You pay more so you can eat more, sure. But it might be worth your buck if you plan on only stocking up on macaroons or something, but you aren’t really going to be able to eat your fill of these rich, carby, sugary treats without regretting your life decisions. (Unless you’re American.)

I’d recommend this experience as long as you know that you’re in it for the experience and the tea (which was amazing, I had an orange, cardamon infused one second. So yum!) But not for the foodies. The food was fine but not worth that price. I think next time, I’ll just order a pot of tea (around R60) and soak up the ambiance. Rah rah rah.

Remember, Pinkies up!

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My Skin – What worked for me… finally!

Girl-talk time!

I had great skin when I was a teenager. Don’t get me wrong – I wasn’t some beauty queen; I was duck-footed (still am) Goofy (still am) and had braces (luckily don’t) – but my skin wasn’t a concern. Which was one less thing to worry about in the ‘he said, she said, his friend told her, your friend lied to you’ bullshit world we lived in.

I have often thought, over the last year in my 30s that I might have preferred having had a slightly problematic skin back then, as opposed to NOW. In my freaking 30s!? Back then it wouldn’t have been any better to wake up feeling like a monster and then see the mirror and realise it’s worse. Greeting new little evil face-spawn that have cropped up overnight. No, that would have still been devastating. But it’s supposed to be like that then. People don’t secretly wonder what you’re doing wrong – they say “Shame, you’ll grow out of it, it’s normal.”

I don’t know – I think it would have somehow been better than having to worry during a conversation with a fellow (perfect complexioned) 30 year old, hoping they aren’t judging you for having breakouts. It makes your normal, sane(ish) 31 year old self want to yell “I wash my face, ok!? I eat moderately healthily, ok!? I don’t know why God hates me!! I’m just going to go to my room and listen to music ok, stop judging me!? I hate you!” and then run off doing the ugly cry. See, this is why it suits teenagers perfectly.

I tried everything. I went on The Pill. That made it worse. I went off the Pill… it got even worse. (WHAAAT!?) I changed brands of pill and it got a little better. I was spending thousands on face creams and facials and concealers and treatments. Literally thousands. Every month. I justified it to myself with the notion that I’m in the public eye (if you don’t know me, I’m a stand up comedian) so it was an investment for work. (Do you think SARS will include facials as tax deductable?)

I have to stand on a stage and be looked at by everyone in the room, now add to that an insecurity about really annoying, obvious breakouts. I got around that insecurity hurdle by writing a joke about my bad skin and saying it early in my set – once I owned it, no one could mock me about it. A trick I learned in school when kids picked on my duck-feet. I have a technique where I can literally twist my feet all the way inwards to face backwards (ewwww!) I know, right!? But do it once, and no kid mocking your skew walk will ever have any klout again.

After all of this, I had kind of given up. Resigned to being forever enslaved to MAC concealer and base and powder and all sorts of make-up tricks to artfully bring me back to normal. And dreading ever being caught fresh faced from the shower by anyone.  Honestly, I was supposed to be worrying about wrinkles starting at my age. Whatevs.

Then I met a wonderful Australian (but we forgive her) lass one winter night at an event. She’s living here and we bonded over red-carpet selfies and our weird names (hers is Paris Skye). Turns out Paris Skye is a beauty therapist and she offered me a complimentary first facial. Because she’s awesome like that.

That was in June 2014. My story is going to take a turn for the Disney, because here comes the happy ending.

I thought of facials as a maintenance, not a cure. I had become a slave to Dermalogica and owned almost all of their products for my skin types. Even the lip-balm. Now this is not a Dermalogica bashing post – I did notice an improvement with them. I used them religiously for about 2 years. The general condition of my skin was great, wrinkles were not a worry – I think I owe that all to Dermalogica.

But Paris used Dr. Hauschka on my skin. It’s all organic and free-trade and homeopathic- aromatheraputic hippy. Honestly, I would never have glanced twice at it had she not exclusively used it. She talked me though the ingredients of all of the products she used on my face. From lavender oil in the water to calm, balance and relax skin to almond flour in the ‘cleansing scrub’ that you don’t actually scrub because that’s too abrasive and you compress it with your fingers to create a suction into the pores. I liked the smell of everything. Lavender. Lemon Grass. Rose water, lots of rose water. Nothing smelled like chemicals, nothing smelled harsh.

Say what you like about it, my mother is a huge advocate of Homeopathy. I used to have to fight her tooth and nail just to get a Panado for period cramps in my (pimple free) high school years. She’d tell me to take magnesium and drink water. Whatever! So it usually worked, that wasn’t the point. The ‘Mother’s child’ side of me decided to give this bees-wax infused rosey smelling yumness a chance.  5 months later. And it’s working.

I don’t know why. I daren’t ask how. But the gentle, subtle combination of plant extracts and organic ingredients seems to be what my skin wanted. I noticed an improvement almost instantly. Who knows – maybe it’s unrelated and my hormones have just balanced. But maybe it’s not. My skin is far from perfect, as it’s now dealing with the scarring from the past 2 years of abuse. But it’s smoother than it’s been in ages, like silky smooth, with no new teenage style breakouts. And it smells like a freaking English garden!

Dr. Hauschka is also significantly cheaper than the products I was using prior. About half the price.

This is not a sponsored post, I’m not affiliated with this brand in any way (except that it’s in my skin). I just hope I can maybe help someone else, our skin is all different – so what works for me might not work for you. But I thought I’d share what worked for me, just in case it helps someone. I can’t tell you how amazing it feels to see my make-up free face and not jump back from the mirror, cringing. The time I save getting ready alone, is worth it. Some days now I only swipe on a tinted moisturiser (Melissa day cream with a drop of bronze tint added) and leave the house. gasp. make-up free!? It’s all very reminiscent of my high-school self.

I think you can get Dr. Hauschka at Woolies, but you need to make sure you’re getting the right ones for your skin. I know Paris sells them at cost price (bargain. yay!) you can contact Paris here if you want to set up a facial and consultation (she even does house-calls) or just to buy the products.

Here’s hoping you can cross one more thing off your list of things to worry about… like I did. Now it’s just my duck-feet again, wanna see the trick I do where I turn my feet backwards?

No?

Stop running away…

 

 

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Halloween Nail Polish Ideas

If you follow me on Instagram then you’d know that my girliest of girlnesses is nail-polish. I always paint my nails in fun colours. (I always paint one nail differently, not because it’s trendy but because I’m honouring the memory of a friend, and I’m too chicken to get the tattoo that everyone else got for him, so i paint a nail different)

Now that it’s Halloween coming up (yes, we don’t care about it that much here in South Africa) but it’s always fun to misappropriate other peoples cultures in the name of nail art!

Here’s some of the best nail art inspiration I found around the web. I’m going to Rocky Horror on Halloween, and we’re dressing up accordingly so I’ll probably have to stick with a bit of a red and gold theme – but I’m loving these ideas…

I chose most of them because they are do-able, one or two are impossible, and I just included them because ‘how cool!’

I forsee some epic fails in our nail art attempts futures… then a ‘Nailed it’ fail pic would have a double pun :)

Too much time on our hands? Lets show it on our hands – or fingers.

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Who takes it upon themselves to do Halloween nails? Let me know which number you pick :)

*Nailed it*

 

 

 

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My 5 Favourite Beauty Things (At the moment)

I see other (real) bloggers doing these kinds of posts all the time. And I’m pretty voyeristic and love to see what others are using, thinking doing… basically I’m a sheep. In human clothing.

Here are my favourite girly beauty things, in case anyone benefits from them (most of mine came from word of mouth, so- there’s that.) Let’s keep paying it forward, lest that Hayley Joel Osmond boy comes back to tell us he sees dead people, and those people are us. Live it up – I guess. (I should get that embroidered onto a pillow. that was motivational as fuck.)

1. Shampoo

Shampoo for my real friends and real-poo for my sham friends!

Our hair is our shining glory and as such deserves to go first. I’ve been blessed with deathly straight hair that I fight to give any body to. In the country of GHD weilding woman, i realise I’m in the lucky minority when I say all I’m really looking for in a shampoo is something that smells nicest. And if it makes it super glossy and adds volume then all the better too.

My favourite yummy smelling shampoo (that also is pretty fab at doing what the bottle promises) is Aussie Hair. I know, I know – South Africans are bred to not support Australia – but this is different. Because it’s purdy. The ‘Luscious Long’ was the first head turner for me and I have since tried out and am currently using the Mega Instant, which also smells yum.

I was once told by a hairdresser friend that one should alternate hair products every wash, to prevent build up – and keep hair it’s most glossy… I don’t know if it’s true – but it does mean that I can try out more smells – so I also have some other brand that smells the most amazing in the world ever. And it’s all natural and organic  and even VEGAN (It has no friends) it’s from Lush, and named (wait for it) Happy Happy, Joy Joy. 

I mean. Sold. The name is the best thing to see in the shower every morning. It smells like a summer garden of pressed flowers, gone right (not that rotten water filled with crushed petals we used to make – and call perfume.)

Their blurb goes: Finally, another vegan conditioner! A rose water, orange blossom water and almond milk base soften, beautify and condition hair. It works wonderfully on bleached and over-processed hair, and on everyone else too as it is rich and moisturizing, but doesn’t weigh hair down. Orange flower absolute, rosewood and grapefruit oils perfume your hair to make you feel Happy Happy all day long. 

That’s the conditoner (I find it a tiny bit too light for my hair, as it is always a little too knotty when wet. But it’s great to alternate with) and I use Lush’s seaweed shampoo BAR called Seanik for the first hair washing bit. It’s like a little blue bar of soap, and you only need to swoosh it over damp hair like once, and enough foam comes from that to make you feel lush. Hence the name, I’m sure.

It doesn’t really smell  like much, but it doesn’t need to. It’s pretty good at adding volume with sea salt and all sorts of ingredients – so I’m a fan.

2. Mascara

The hair around our eyes, is an extension of that crowning glory. Mascara is one of those things that we kind of say are all the same, and make-up artists will tell you that you don’t need to spend on a good one – because there’s not much difference – but then girls are always asking and comparing and they have SO many out there that it’s getting quite baffling.

I used to be a MAC obsessed human, and as such would get the MAC mascara (I forget which one) but I know I wasn’t alone in the fact that I found that it used to irritate my eyes a teeny bit. A bit burny when applying the wet mascara and then again when washing it off and it gets in your eyes.

My new favourite is INGLOT False Lash Effect. It’s not too heavy and clumpy – it works on all the points I want it to, length and volume – and it’s not too expensive either, it also doesn’t irritate my eyes. So – what more is there to ask from it?

 

3. BB Cream

This is all the trend and since my skin’s (finally) been getting better… see below for more… I can use this and not rely on the more heavy bases for cover-up. I don’t have any authority on this, and am constantly looking for a better brand (but then too afraid to veer from my tried and tested one.) But I find Garnier both cost effective and effective.

4. Skin Care:

Up until rather recently, I would have sung the praises of Dermatologica all the way to a duel to the death. And I’m not going to take away from them, as I still have their eye cream, and face spritz toner and a whole collection of other products. However, I started suffering from breakouts from about the age of 28. And try as I might, all my best Dermalogica intentions seemed only to manage it, and not clear it up. (This is also down to hormones and diet, and I started Tim Noakes’ Banting and noticed a skin improvement too.) But a strange chance meeting (on a red carpet – how scripted!?) found me in the friendship circle of  an Australian named Paris Skye. Now there is going to be a full blog on Paris (the person) soon, she wants to give away an awesome facial treatment to someone – and you want to be that someone. She gave me a facial (mmm) and the products she use are Dr Hauschka. A brand I’d heard of but never looked into, for lack of word of mouth.

 What’s nice about these products is that they are homeopathic and aromatherapy based. Very gentle on the skin and they smell great. So gentle in fact that the ‘Daily Cleansing “scrub”‘ is not to be scrubbed, at all ever, but merely pressed and released on the skin – it alledgedly creates a type of suction and removes impurities that way. There’s also a Lavender essential oil that you put in hot water and press on your face before and after to open pores and calm skin. The whole (yummy smelling) experience has left me with a much more glowing skin than I had previously. It smells less clinical (the day moisturiser’s key ingredient is rose water!) and it’s also about half the cost of Dermalogica (and if you buy directly from Paris Skye, she gives you a 10% discount as incentive.)

I have noticed a marked improvement on my skin, breakouts and ability to regenerate as well as general silkyness and have had people (including my too-honest Nanna) comment on how much better it is looking. That’s enough proof for me to be sold.

5. Perfume

I think it’s testament of me growing up and finally maturing that the quality I most love in a perfume now is it’s subtlety. This coming from a girl who’s signature scent in high-school was ‘Angel’. Ok. For obvious reasons, but that Angel scent is about as subtle as a crucifix in a vampire’s chest.

My current favourite scent is just the perfect amount of sweet/musky/subtle and haunting. I can’t pronounce his name (as I learnt when my Spanish speaking Argentinian boyfriend laughed at me) but I love it. Narciso Rodriquez – Her.

That’s my top 5 favourite things –

and if you look under your chairs – you’ll see…. An Oprah O Magazine in the dust. Reminding you how you never got free things under your chair. and today is no different. But keep an eye – will be having a Paris Skye Giveaway soon :)

*high five*

 

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The Road to Hell is Paved with good intentions.

and those good intentions are ‘getting a gym routine back’ – it takes you straight to hell.

It’s not so much the ‘New Year’s Resolution’ element of losing weight (Of which I have none) it’s more the fact that it’s the end of the feasting. Feasting for the heart, the soul, the holiday and the thighs. All of those Chrismas pies seem to be having their own “Occupy Angel’s Bum” protest. And I need to become a military state, and evict them.

I haven’t weighed myself in a few months, but I assume I have about 5kgs to lose (probably more, but I might just panic and eat more nutella-stuffed-browned- butter-choc-chip-sea-salt cookies if I knew that. Baby steps.) We all have those ‘fat day’ slouchy pants that we either bought by mistake or were forced to buy legitimately at a low time in our lives. I have a pair of cargo pants that usually need the belt, a size or two too big – comfy pants. I put them on this past week, and they fit – snugly. Perfectly. *shuddered breath*

I’ve been mentally chiding myself every day that it’s time to go back to gym, but we all know the first few days/weeks into a gym are the hardest. Let alone the burning lungs, the aching muscles, the face-to-face with your weakness… the fact that your skin often breaks out as your body detoxes, my gym (the wonderful Dragon Power Muay Thai) have moved across the city. They used to be 2 blocks away, now they are out of the city bowl – and this excuse filled little lazy demon inside me cannot justify the traffic lights and highways I would have to navigate to go there.

First things first, I have to admit defeat and cancel the debit order. I’ve been guilt-paying that gym subscription for 10 months. 10 months that I’ve only ‘hypothetically’ considered even going to gym. I love that gym, i love the classes and the trainers. But it’s time to stop pretending to myself that I’m actually ever going back. The denial is almost worse.

Then I have to find a new gym. In my area. In my preferred price range.

Cape Cross Fit got alerted to my sarcastic tweet about joining a gym in “New year’s resolution month” and (brand plus) started interacting. Turns out, they are 3 blocks from my apartment. I’ve heard they are pretty expensive though, but what’s the price on health, durability and fitting into skinny jeans with no muffin top? Visa might say priceless. I’m also scared because I know that they don’t eff around. No lazy, half hearted flapping in the back of the class. That might seem like a pro. But to this lazy, sluggish (still pale, mid summer) bum on the couch right now, it seems like a reason to hide.

Virgin Active in Wembley Square is also jogging distance from my place, and offers all of the benefits of a glossy chain gym including the wifi-kauaii-yoga class high pony-tailed-ness.

I believe there are Yoga studios in my neighbourhoods too. As a person whose only experience with “gymming” is living in Thailand at a Muay Thai camp and then doing Muay Thai with Dragon Power in SA. I’m a bit of a rookie, and I’m scared that the High School environment of ‘chai latte sipping gym moms’ might intimidate me into NOT figuring the gym out properly. (Am I the only one who TRIES to act like I know what I’m doing, only to find that the thing I was so seriously using to sculpt my arms is actually meant to me lain down on, for your butt?) I’m too much of a dork to ever feel like I fit in in a cool, designer gym clothes wearing environment.

If ANYONE has any gym advice, or (Gardens or CBD area) gyms or fitness programmes that you love – please comment or tweet me @YesReallyAngel.

I’m going to the initiation with Cape Cross Fit on Tuesday at 7pm. I will report back once I regain my vision.

(Going back to gym also means no more lazy eating and drafts of beer. It’s all or nothing with me. This saddens and terrifies me.)**

The thing that saddens and terrifies me more than the potential dizzying fatigue, aching muscles, skin break outs and cutting back on all the foods and drinks that bring me joy – is the idea that I might lose control of the slippery slope of being 30 and newly metabolism-retarded. I know each person has their own body image, and some people will say I’m still completely fine. I don’t have body dysmorphia; I know I’m mostly fine. But I feel lazy, unfit and… wibbly. And I must fix that. Stat.

Here’s a little comparison of a year:

Then:

1st January 2013 - Still in the time of muay-thai gymming and feeling fit. In Thailand with my roomie, Siv Ngesi.

Now:

January 3rd 2014 - Holiday photo from this year that I've hidden from social media until now - because I'm ashamed of my wibbly bits. Namibia with the Argentinian.

Mmm. for Motivation.

**I’m hoping to re-read this whole post in 3 months with ‘lol’ as I am back to being fit, toned and ‘hoo raah master chief’

*lazy high five*

(Thanks to Raising Men’s blog post for inspiring me to be open and honest about this journey. Read her heart and soul in story format here: )

 

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A Mother’s Prayer for Her Child By Tina Fey


“First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.

May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty.

When the Crystal Meth is offered, may she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half And stick with Beer.

Guide her, protect her when crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.

Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels. What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.

May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.

Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen.Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short – a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day – And adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait.

O Lord, break the Internet forever, that she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.

And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it.

And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back. “My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.

Amen.”

-Tina Fey

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24 Before 30 – Live like a Tourist.

Every year I make a list of new things I want to try.  Some are difficult, some are easy, some are shockingly mundane. This is making every day count as I count down to 30.

Kalk Bay

Cape Town is rated as the top tourist destination in the world. This is something we are all very proud of. And yet, we live in it in the same mundane way that joburgers do… for the most part. Sure we probably lock our car doors while we’re inside them less, and we adhere to red-robots after dark – but we also throw the fact that we have “the sea and the mountain” around way more than we actually utilize them

Kalk bay makes me happy. It makes my soul smile. On Saturday the 16th March, I took my man-friend to Kalk bay – we lunched. We strolled on the jetty and spoke to a few fishermen. We watched seals, we drank beer and then we drove to Grand West Casino.

Learn How to Play Poker

Learning how to play poker was one of my ’29 before 29′ that i never actually got to. I have the worst memory for card games. I learn them and then forget. Grand West Casino has this great system where you can go and LEARN how to play. They have Roulette and Poker tables and really friendly staff, who walk you through step by step, with fake chips. I also figured out they dealt fake hands – because I had a royal flush in the second round… But then once we started “fake playing for real” i won R60 000… hypothetically. I was really good at it. My man friend was better at Roulette – he cleaned up there. Between the two of us, we’d make over 1ook. We didn’t really. But we got to high-five a lot. And that’s just as good. :)

See Cirque Du Soleil.

I’ve always wanted to watch it. What better 30th gift to myself than to go?

Exactly.

 

This was a pretty packed 24th last day of being in my 20s.

*high five* – Make it count.

 

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28 before 30

As part of my memorable days before my 30th I added:

Reading in the park.

Company Gardens in Cape Town.

*make it count… times 30*

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30 before 30

30 years old. I’m in the final countdown *it took every cell in my body to resist typing dum dumdaaah daaam* but now i did it anyway. So I’m a winner. And a loser. It’s a fine art that I have mastered both simultaneously.

In an ideal world i’d like to do something significant every day of my last 30 days before I’m 30. (Much like my much coveted 29 before 29) But (much like my 29 before 29) I am realising that sometimes my dreams are bigger than my time-schedule and laziness combined.

Yesterday was the 10th of March (My birthday is on the 9th April) and my special moment for the day was hiking up table mountain. Something all us Capetonians say we should do more of. So i did.

Unfortunatley it was not as liberating as i thought as after the first 10 mins (no word of a lie) i was so out of breath that my lungs were stinging. I was convinced i’d developed asthma – for the first time ever – at that moment. I’m still not sure as to the medical reasons and factuality of this. Luckily my man-friend was patient and kind, and only kicked me lightly as he told me to stop being a baby and threw sand in my face. (some of those are not true)… and after a few more minutes my lungs stopped burning and my (almost) 30 year old immune system appeared to have beaten back asthma as soon as it had started. Booya.

I also made the top in a record time (for me) at 1.30min it’s the fastest I’ve done it. I’d previously done it in 2005, 2007 and 2010.

2013 summit. Having fought back death i was yet again on the top. And i'd like to put my Man-friend forward for official selection by the Nobel Peace committee as "most patient and kind" :P

The sweetest part of all of this is that on the top a lady humbly asked if I’d take a photo of her as she was by herself and didn’t have anyone to take it (she had an old school FILM camera… right?!) and she said it was her BIRTHDAY!

She had a film camera. but we had a POLAROID. yes. not the instagram kind. the real kind that I had to scan in... eat that hipsters.

My heart broke a little bit until she informed me that she actually wanted to come alone (the cable car is free on your Bday) and that her son would fetch her shortly. Her plan was to blow up balloons with smiley faces on them and let them go in the wind, as a symbolic gesture of letting go of baggage.

I thought that was quite lovely. and might emulate that. I love balloons.

It was her 59th birthday. Suddenly i felt sheepish for dreading 30.

So. This marks the beginning of doing something special on every day of my last days of my 20s. I will try to blog each one.

Here goes.

*make it count*

 

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