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.
I always thought I'd buy a boyfriend on eBay one day but I ended up getting one for free off Tinder. Bargain! You have to trawl through a lot more crap on Tinder but it's amazing what people will do for free things. I never thought I'd end up getting serious with a devout Christian. And I definitely never thought I'd go to church with him to see how the other side lives. Especially not after waking at 2am for the World Cup. I was scared I'd fall asleep and embarrass him by snoring or farting.
Smile! Those teeth don't clean themselves.
I was traumatised by a dentist in the public service when I was little. She was rough and mean, and must have thought I was being a wimp like other patients but no, I had a tiny mouth and I was whimpering because she'd ripped the left side of my lips open. After that day, I refused to go back to the dentist until I had money to pay for a good one (we were poor so free was the only option). It wasn't until a decade later when I had my first full-time job that I went to a posh dentist in Melbourne for a check-up. Luckily I didn't need much work apart from replacing a filling and good old clean.
I'm going through a phase of reading instructions and manuals lately. It turns out I've been doing a lot wrong all my life. But some things I get right. Like prioritising the Eurovision Song Contest over sleep and sustenance. And like always, it's totally worth it. Denmark put on an amazing show - the staging and lighting has to be the competition's best in history. So beautifully done.