The child of migrant parents, I grew up walking in two worlds, fitting comfortably into neither. In the 1980s beauty role models who looked like me were non-existent in the western society my family made their home. They were equally absent in the culture of my heritage.
H is for… home
The idea of home has always been a tricky one for me. This is a recurring theme for me (I may be a little obsessed with this notion).
The south-west of Western Australia has some of the most stunning landscape. Every time I drive down here, there’s a visceral lightening of my load. My shoulders relax and I feel like I can breathe again.
One of the truly wonderful aspects about having lived in so many different places is that you have friends who also live in many different places. I have friends who range the world over. They’re scattered from Argentina to Canada, from New Zealand to the USA, and at so many points in between.
On the occasion of my wedding anniversary
Y’all know how much I love my fur baby, Rani.
Rani has terrible doggy breath at the moment because of a build up of plaque after four months in a kennel where her food wasn’t regulated, and her teeth weren’t regularly brushed. Despite the bad breath, she’s an adorable little pup.
So for today’s post, I’m going to link you to her Facebook page. I (she) posts photos, videos and self-care tips over there. It’s a bit of silly fun in a hectic, overwhelming world.