A Guest Contributor – Beauty secrets – Tips and Tricks of a Cross-dressing Beauty Queen

As a 50-year-young woman I am excited to share a beauty secret, one I have known for 30 years! The beauty secret is my friend Jas. Jas is and has been my mirror and my accomplice in keeping it ‘pretty’ when life was hard and my mirror and accomplice when life was full of fantastically … More A Guest Contributor – Beauty secrets – Tips and Tricks of a Cross-dressing Beauty Queen

My Mumma said, you are enough. ( Fast Non-Fiction, a 1 minute read)

  The irony of freelance writing and pursuing time for creative fiction. It’s crazy, the busier my freelance writing world becomes, the more productive I am with my own fiction work. Go figure! But backstage my unworthiness gremlin slips in and tells me I cannot pursue busy success and write with a true voice at … More My Mumma said, you are enough. ( Fast Non-Fiction, a 1 minute read)

Body shaming, plus-size and grace in action with cake.

An inspirational mum, Carrie Strongman is a woman who’s attitude embodies an unapologetic confidence in being a beautiful plus size woman. She also happens to be my mum. My mum is plus size and has always shown me how beautiful her curves are. If as a child, my raised eyebrows teased her as she sashayed … More Body shaming, plus-size and grace in action with cake.

Whangamata, New Zealand a surf beach like no other.

Ruled by a circadian rhythm that ebbs and swells with the moon, the beachfront at Whangamata is tidal theatre.

As the waves depart the sand holds its breath, knowing the wet embrace of a never ending repeated return.

Fickle the waves are and best you remember this at Whangamata.

Whangamata all crunchy white sand and pumping waves is home to one of the world’s most legendary surf breaks. … More Whangamata, New Zealand a surf beach like no other.

A NAKED WOMAN IN PARIS.

Alone on her balcony, she stretched her limbs, taut, stark and naked against the restless hunger of her room.
Hidden behind a curtain in Paris, I watched her.
Her bedroom peered out behind her, a homicidal battle nest of tossed bed sheets, knotted tangles and abandoned clothing. The spoils of a front line, where she the victor, had prowled like a predator and won.

Hidden behind a curtain in Paris, I watched her.

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