KEEP IT IN THE PHAMLY

I farewelled 2014 in fine style - meaning I caught a hell of a fever in November and didn't recover from post-viral cough until the New Year break. It's been a hectic few months and all of a sudden it's the end of February and Vietnamese New Year. Yikes.

It was mental health week recently. It reminded me I’ve been meaning to write this post for maybe a year now but I’ve never quite figured out what to tell and where to start. So I guess I’ll start where Mum Pham learned that Dad Pham was suffering from mental illness.

A holiday isn’t a holiday without Little Sissy Pham falling ill, but the little engine that could powered through my to-do list - kayaking with dolphins, snorkelling, horse-riding in the bush and lake, bush-walking in the national parks, visiting all the local beaches, lots of spa/pool/sauna sessions at the resort and eating all the things. Noosa holidaying is a fabulous way to spend a 30th birthday month!

Oil is bad, oil is evil! is what I've learned from my dermatologist Dr C.T. Lee in Sunnybank, Brisbane, Queensland. These days anything and everything that goes near my acne prone face is oil-free unless it's glorious and delicious like hot chips. Mmm... hot chips. Another exception is ALDI’s Protane Moroccan Argan Oil for hair.

As an acne sufferer, I’ve been trained to see the word ‘oil’ as nasty, malicious and evil. But like all my exaggerated feelings about minor life details, there’s always an exception. My oily exception is ALDI’s Protane Moroccan argan oil, which is literally my hair’s best friend.

Since I was turning the big 3-0 this year, I decided to give myself a whole month to celebrate. I went on a single ladies date on the actual day. Then once my eyeballs recovered from laser surgery, I went for a 5-day beach holiday with my childhood bestie and Little Sissy Pham to Noosa on the Sunshine Coast in Queensland. It was divine.

For nearly a decade I’ve been avoiding the gym the way my cat avoids visitors - with a stealthy yet panicked trot in the opposite direction. But faced with the option to become a complete slob or start working out, I chose to join a gym.

Even though I was on a dating spree and had a Valentine this year, I ditched my beau for a single ladies date night because it’s my birthday and I can do what I want to. Which turned out to be being good boyfriend to my girlfriends.

I’ve been carefully plotting my future as a single cat lady for about a decade (only seriously for the past two years) so this gorgeous Karen Walker cat ring (she happens to be my favourite sunglasses designer) was the perfect 30th gift from my beautiful friend Elise. Though, of course, now I’m in a relationship with one homo sapiens and not 13-18 domestic felines as I’d planned because life just never happens the way you expect it to.

So I left my dream job and my beloved CK Phamly. Surprise! It was a sad decision but sometimes you gotta do what you need, not what you want.

I have mostly fond memories of growing up in the now demolished council flats in Kensington, Melbourne. Except for two violent ball related memories. One was getting a painful leg and ass-whooping from Mum Pham and her feather duster for having a $2 black and blue soccer ball stolen from the playground while we climbed on rocks.