Why Women Torture Themselves With High Heels

There's no denying that a woman in 4 inch heels turns heads. There's also no denying that the woman in question is faking her smile while she cries inwardly at the pain her poor toes are going through. The reasons we do this to ourselves differ according to every woman. I like high heels because they give me confidence and make me feel all grown up and smart. Some women use them to impress their friends and colleagues, while some of the single ladies (no-one say Beyonce) obviously use them to find a man.

But these gorgeous shoes are bad for your wallet and your muscles. Still, there we go, torturing our feet so we can feel better emotionally. How sad is that? The general consensus is that heels make you look skinnier, improve your posture and give your confidence a major boost, which makes you more attractive. And there isn't just one type of torture, oh no, there are tons of types to make your toes bleed like:

Wedges, which give a safe but still demurely sexy appearance.

The lower length heel, which shows that you want to be more daring but aren't sure how to get there or pull it off.

Platform high heels (a personal favourite) which show you are an insane, creative person and that you have a very high pain threshold.

Gladiator heels for the girls in touch with their ancient civilisation sides.

The ankle boot, for the sexy but cold during winter.

The high heeled boots, for the inner dominatrix.

  And, finally, shoes that are only appropriate to be seen in the Rocky Horror Picture Show.


Well......... At least they make us look skinny, right?

Minor Operations: When Everyone Thinks You're Screwed

So during my school vacation (its always during vacation!) it was discovered that after nearly three months of being constantly sick, I had tonsillitis. So bad, that even though this was the first time, I was told to have them removed immediately. We went to see a specialist, and Bob's your uncle the operating date was set for Monday the 23rd of April. Meaning tomorrow.

The funny thing is that I am completely fine. I'm not stressed, or worried, I just want it over with. In fact I'm pretty excited to spend my first night in a hospital. Everyone else however, is not taking it so well. And that's putting it very lightly.

My mom has religiously bought medicine, and now provisions for my recovery week. Provisions like kid's toothpaste, marshmallows and purity (baby slop). She has sworn not to leave my side until she is forced to.

My stepfather, who generally keeps his distance when I'm sick, has taken to giving me inspirational and motivational speeches every five minutes. Which sort of makes me feel more like I'm going off to war instead of getting a simple tonsillectomy.

My step mom has advised strongly against taking my tonsils out, since I may need them in the future. I have no idea what she thinks I'll do with them. My father has decided to keep his distance and only said good luck now and then. I almost prefer that.

My very nosey grandmother phones every chance to tell me that I must:" Instruct your mother to look after you properly." She then phones my mom anyway to harass her.

My teachers look at me like I'm a mental patient, my friends say goodbye as if they'll never see me again and I'm pretty sure my boyfriend is going grey. The only other happy person about it is my cousin's boyfriend who suggested that i ask for my tonsils in a jar, add some glow stick juice and make a nightlight. Are we seriously the only ones that don't think its that major?

A tonsillectomy is a pretty straight forward 20 to 30 minute operation which has been done millions of times. The recovery time is about a week. I don't understand why people are pretending I'm going to die. Do they like the drama? Do they want to comfort themselves? Or do they just want to scare the crap out of me? Either way, I'll report back next week.

P.S We reached more than a thousand page views this week. The first milestone. Thanks to everyone reading :)

Nick Vujicic: No Arms, No Legs, No Limits!

"Imagine being born without arms. No arms to wrap around someone, no hands to experience touch, or to hold another hand with. Or what about being born without legs? Having no ability to dance, walk, run, or even stand on two feet. Now put both of those scenarios together: no arms and no legs. What would you do? How would that affect your everyday life?"

Nick Vujicic is an Australian motivational speaker. Without any medical warning he was born without arms and legs. I find him to be amazing, and the way he connects with his audience is touching. Here is the link to one of his video's:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MslbhDZoniY&feature=fvst

But Inside I'm Screaming: Being Isabel

Isabel hauls herself out of bed and puts her shorts on over her boxers. “Okay, okay,” she says to no one in particular as she walks down the hall to the medicine distribution window. After swallowing the controlled substances that will beat back nature until the next dispensation-all have foreboding names with too many late-alphabet consonants like Serzone, Zyprexa, Trazodone- she shuffles back to her room and crawls back into bed, this time assuming the foetal position.

Doesn’t anybody else see how meaningless this is? How we are all consumed with our chores, which are ultimately useless because with the swipe of a broom we can all be swept away into the abyss. Here I am in a mental institution, trying to get better so that I can go back into the world and rush from job to job, killing time until I die of something other than suicide. I take medicine to help me deal with the nothingness of my life. Millions of us have to take pills to distract us from the sheer boredom of it all. We hurry from thing to thing like ants when we’re all going to end up suffocating anyway.

“Isabel.” The voice on the other side of the door sounds like Kristen’s. “We’re getting ready for the morning meeting. You coming?”

Isabel looks at her watch.  An hour has passed.

"People look at me and they see this happy face, but inside I'm screaming. It's just that no one hears me."

This is a small excerpt from But Inside I'm Screaming by Elizabeth Flock. I have never found a more accurate account of what Depression is truly like.

Everyone feels like an Isabel sometimes.

The Evil Hold of the Sinister Cookie Monster

Someone find me a dietary priest or a fitness guru, because I've been taken over by a monster. And I believe it is the most terrifying monster of all...

The cookie monster.

Everyone always says that over Christmas holidays you should forget your diets and shakes to enjoy yourself. Unfortunately, these exorbitant Christmas feastings are just the start of your new weight complex development. With all these treats at your disposal, you give it all you’ve got and eat as if there's no tomorrow, or to not offend the people you visit.

And its not like the chocolate chip cookies are low fat, or the ice-cream, or the mouth watering puddings, or the succulent, rich slabs of chocolate that....

I'm so hungry.

And that’s exactly where it starts. Since you live on a quite strict health diet, and are now used to festive season treats, you continue to eat them right through January. Oh, you tell yourself that you will start working out next week, but next week becomes another three cookies hovering into your mouth. And of course the wonderful invention of television means you sit there all day doing what? Eating. While gorgeous and healthy people prance about on the screen in front of you.

I'm not saying treats are all bad, they have benefits too. But it’s a moderation thing, and I think we end up overdoing it.

My advice?

Keep eating, but measure portions, and mainly EXERCISE more.

Take your dogs for a walk around the block. Walk to the nearby shops instead of driving. For the brave there is even running. For the not so brave, skip the elevators and take the stairs. Small, every day changes that could leave you healthier and vitalised.

I am going to try my best by starting small, then working my way up.

But first I have to put the cookie back in the tin.

Life is hard!