Golly gosh, I am a lucky girl! 🍀
Happy, fat and shiny on bugger all feed - has sprouted himself a little bit of a winter coat, but still pretty schlick. Piglet, Grace and I are off road tripping this coming weekend, and it'll be mine and Wiggles first outing together. No rushing this time! We're off to suss out what the extreme cowboy sport is all about - just to have a little fun together, and get the hell outta dodge with Germo for a couple of days. Can't wait! #horses#horsesofinstagram#horselife#brumby#extremecowboy
On a slightly lighter note for today, I am so thankful for this big bay horse, and the love he has to share. He couldn't be any more perfect if he tried. He took a break from his number one love of lucerne to spend a little while to love on me, and it never, ever goes unappreciated. I live for these little moments with my horses. #horsesofinstagram#horsewoman#horsemanship#horselife#medicinehorse
Here I am.
No filter. No makeup. No flash photography, creative lighting or high angles. Amongst the weeds and the dirt and the half eaten hay, in an ugly jumper and ripped jeans. Bad hair, unplucked eyebrows. Bags under my eyes; scarred face, nose, eye, and still a little remanent bruising. No smile to soften any of it.
I had a major accident. My body, brain and mind have survived trauma of all levels, in all kinds of ways; accidentally, self-induced and everything in between. I get a new scar, a new tough sticker, sometimes visible and sometimes not.
I cover this scar every day. I fill it in with makeup that I had otherwise never really cared for until I had it, and I try and smile or laugh through the jokes about it, and hell, I even get in on them sometimes. But it is still an adjustment to my esteem, and how I see myself. I try to see this haggard, healing thing on my face as just another mark of toughness - but it's my face, you know? As a customer said to me - 'it's just there, right where everyone looks' - and sometimes I wish they wouldn't. Today, I hugged my horses a little tighter, and sat in the dirt. Patted the scar on my stomach that I've had since a little girl; the pink marks on my knees, the bending curve on my calf from falling on a drainpipe as a kid; old rope burns, gravel rashes and the scar in my cheek that sometimes makes a dimple... and then I took this picture. I'm trying to be brave and wear it outside without any veils, and it's unpleasant, most of the time. People have morbid curiosity.
Please be mindful of people's scars, visible or not, and irrespective of if we laugh at them too. Most of the time, we're just trying to find a way to wear them.
I'm pretty sure I had this picture, torn out of the back page of a Rolling Stone magazine, circa 2005 or something. I had it bluetacked to my wall through my pre and early teens. For the record, I never grew up with punk in the forefront of my musical vocabulary - I had a lot of rock n roll, and aside from Heart, Blondie and Mum's drawn out Fleetwood Mac cassettes, it was never mentioned, and I was much less exposed to women fronting rock n roll... I think I found out about The Distillers through one of those 'mix tape' cds that used to come tacked to guitar magazines, and it was really the only way my 12year old self and my three-chord arsenal could learn guitar and get into new jams. I'd bank my pocket money like a boss and go drop it all at once when we went to town: first stop - Newsagents.
I had just written something about Courtney Love for an 'idols' report in primary school - needless to say, there was a concerned call to Mum about it. Mum shrugged; she fully understood the vulnerability of women. I didn't think much of it at the time, and I don't think she did either.
When I finally got my hands on Coral Fang, I remember Mum asking me if I was sure I wanted to blow all my money on one album. Damn sure. I sat for the four hours in my Aunty's station wagon playing it on my DiscMan, and I was set. Locked and loaded. What the fuck was this?! This was raw and powerful and loud and passionate and all the things I felt like women COULD be doing in music - instead of hollow teenybop pop that my schoolmates were into, I flogged The Distillers and C.Love to no end. They stood for being strong, for being a-bat-to-the-face-themselves, whoever that woman was going to be that day. That chicks can do this. Not being beautiful in the copy-paste way others were; beautiful in their own huge identities unto themselves. Thanks for scaring primary school teachers and helping a pre-teen adolescent find some cool shit, demonstrating how to wear leather, and amongst other things, how to be herself @nerdjuice79#punkisanattitude#feminine#growingup#wasnuts#thankyou