Losing It

This was the piece that I wrote for Glamour SA in June this year. It basically chronicles my weight loss journey & how far I've come in terms of accepting myself physically.

It's a weird cycle of hate, self-loathing, acceptance, change & a little va-va-voom at the end! I'm big on eating right for yourself, and taking those baby steps all the way to the changing room at YDE. I've been there. And it's a nice place to be.
So, send me an e-mail if you have any questions on diet/exercise/anything-in-between - pllmay001@gmail.com. I promise to be nice :)

I was born this way babyyyy

I had to whip out some Gaga hair for her concert last Monday in Cape Town. I may have been mistaken for a pink milkshake along the way, but it was Gaga so who gives a fudge?!

I literally felt like a little monster - complete with OTT makeup & paws in the air. Mother Monster was amazeballs!! Gaga really doesn't hold back & took us on a journey through regret, shame, empowerment and liberation. If you missed out - shame.

"Just put your paws up, 'Cause you were born this way, baby"

What I'm Lovin' (Right Now!)..

"I have no special talents. I am only passionately curious."
– Albert Einstein

I simply love the indulgence that comes along with having a new obsession.  I feel giddy. Frivolous. Like a kid who’s discovered a new found passion for playing in the sandpit. Sure, I feel a tad guilty for getting wrapped up in my own ‘lil cocoon of ‘me time’ - I should really be spending my days saving helpless causes, like the whales or Lindsay Lohan. But, in all honesty I feel that if we didn't indulge in life’s little pleasures, then we would merely be sad little souls who are auto-tuned to work (with NO play). Ugh. No thanks.

We love you Henry!

Bright, quirky tees are all the rage this Summer, so get yourself one of Mr Price’s limited edition Henry Holland t-shirts. They’re slightly eccentric, very very FUN, and, have just the right amount of phwoar to make any girl feel edgy.

The line is aptly named Denim and Tees – We Go Together. The best part is that this is essebtially fashion with a purpose, as R10 is donated to the Red Cap Foundation with every Tee that is purchased. 

The tee's are available at Mr Price, and retail from R79.99.

She and Him.

She and Him. Him and Her. THEM.

This enchanting duo is definitely worth listening to - if only for lead singer Zooey Deschanel’s moody tunes and quirky style. She and Him have this innate ability to force me into a state of equilibrium, whereby only pretty clothes and cupcakes are invited. Take a listen to ‘Sentimental Heart’ and you’ll get me.

Show the douche some love.

Bad boys have a way with words. I think it’s their disgustingly good looks and charm, which somehow manages to mask their ghastly personalities and douche-bag tendencies.

Let’s admit it – we somehow end up falling for that guy. The one who never calls, never cuddles, and who never ever walks the appropriate 2 cm behind you. Let’s celebrate the douches, by staring at these yummy men for as long as it takes for someone to pry you out of your happy place.

Boy vs. Girl?

There’s a new girl in town, and she’s mixing things up on the catwalk – as a boy! Casey Legler is the first female to model exclusively as a man, and has already set the tone with a moody spread of non-conformist shots. Think cigars, suits, loose-fitting boyfriend shirts and finely honed cheekbones.

Why should you care? Casey is part of a new set of ‘he or she’ models who are questioning society’s views on gender identity, and what really signifies one’s sexuality. Why stick to the boundaries when living on the edge can be so much more entertaining?

The Mindy Project. 

An Indian Girl who manages to eat carbs, deliver babies, flirt with men in bookstores and is refreshingly funny? Do yourself a favour and watch this one.

Truth Coffee.

This one’s for the Cape Town kids! Hop on the caffeine train at Truth Coffee. They make regular stops at hipster land, is the perfect spot for pretty-people watching, and they allow you rock your movember tache with absolutely NO inhibitions. Oh, and did I mention that they make some of the best java in town?

...'Cos it's Movember!

Movember - it’s here - guys, it’s time to sprout a ‘tache! This month gives all the men in our lives the prefect excuse to grow some fuzz. Yes, I will pretend that you don’t resemble a paedophile/truck driver/man-selling-pirated DVD’s.

Facial hair - you either love it, or you hate it! Personally, I think that it’s for an amazing cause, and forces most men to get in touch with the prickly side of life (while raising funds at the same time!). Learn more about this incredible initiative here: http://za.movember.com/?home

I think that it would only be appropriate if we took a few moments to pay homage to some of our favourite men, and their dazzling taches!

It’s only a problem if your guy

starts to resemble this!

Colour me pretty!

Pop-your-colour! Neon is big this season, so whip out those fluorescent hues for an instant pick-me-up. Highlighter shades of yellow and green are perfect when paired with darker tones, and effortlessly enhance darker skin tones. My favourite way to work this trend into your wardrobe? Accessories please! Neon satchels, belts and scarves allow you to subtly pull off this craze, without looking as if you just spray-painted yourself with a neon highlighter.

  

Pastels are an instant way to update your look without splurging your budget. There’s something so chic about shades of lilac and mint – think ballet pumps, cupcakes and delicate looking ladies-in-waiting. Sweeten things up with a lavender blouse or a pale pink dip hem skirt. Just remember to keep things simple – you don’t want to end up resembling an ice-cream cone!

  

Peplum! The peplum craze has been around for a while now, and I feel that I really have no excuse to ignore it anymore. Beware: wear the trend correctly, or it could possibly enlarge the size of your derrière, thereby forcing others to assume that you just left an ‘all you can eat’ buffet. Pair a peplum blouse with sleek pants for a cute office combo, or style a bright peplum skirt with a fitted muted-down top. My tip? Heels are always a plus when trying to pull off this larger-than-life trend!

Mad as a hatter? Geometrics, bold graphics and swirls of colour are definitely not for the faint-hearted! Bold prints don’t seem to be making an exit any time soon, so keep things fresh by adding a statement piece to your wardrobe - Mr Price has a great range of Aztec inspired prints for the girl who wants to assert her power. Try to pair a bold print with a less dominant shade, so that you don’t scare off anyone. And, remember this is one trend that works better when it is looser and not-so-structured.

Caffeine Fix

My go-to java guide:

·        The blend at the Woolworths' W Café  has to be my absolute favourite, if only for the yummy foam! This well-rounded blend is certainly the perfect brew – strong enough to kick me into action, but still not enough to give you the heebie-jeebies. Plus, the fact that it’s 'organic' makes me feel as if I’m somehow undoing all the damage from last night's shots at Tiger Tiger. Right…

·    Vida e Caffè. The quintessential spot for cool kids, pretty people and the occasional hipster. Vida is unquestionably a revered spot for ‘people watching’, but the inconsistent cappuccinos let them down. Plus, the extra foam forces me to resemble someone who’s frothing at the mouth (which isn’t really helped by the fact that their strong brew gives me the jitters). However, I have not stopped returning to this decadent crimson hot-spot. Oh, and a little tip? The barrista will not hand over an extra Lindt choccy nomatter how many times you wink at him.

·         Knead Bakery in Kloof Street surprised me. In a good way. A cosy spot filled with pretty people, delectable baked goods and the aroma of java wafting through the air – sounds like a gimmick, right? Knead has some of the best coffee in town, so make sure that you pop by for an instant pick-me-up. Oh, and try one of their croissants. Divine!

·         I used to be a huge fan of the cappuccinos at Mugg & Bean. Not anymore. Their blend is a tad too weak for someone who relies on a dose of Bioplus to ensure that she doesn’t malfunction through breakfast (I switch to cough mixture if times are tough). The extra-milky concoction that I was served on my last visit, reminded me of a bed-time drink that one would feed to an infant.

Death by granola..

Sprawled out on bed.

Eating second bowl of granola.

It’s my favourite time of the day – a little bonding time with Alexander Skarsgard, while he attempts to woo Sookie (which BTW is such a daddy-issue name!) in True Blood. It suddenly dawns on me that she is a Southern Belle, which essentially means that she downs butter as if it were free tequila at student night. Yet, she still manages to prevent her thighs from rubbing together on a hot, Summers day? Go figure. 

There may be a sinister reason as to why the word DIET contains the word DIE. A sadistic ploy to kill us with lettuce leaves and rice cakes? Perhaps. Is anyone ever content with the body that God (and that 3^rdMcFlurry) has forced upon us? No. Hell no. Sadly, slimming down typically translates to cutting back on food that feeds our souls – there has to be a reasonable explanation behind the name ‘Happy Meal’, right? 

The best advice that a FF (Former Fatty) such as myself can offer? There is NO miracle gel or pill that is going to turn you into Heidi Klum, so I suggest that you sweat out the lipids and watch what you eat. It’s easy  for me to say that you’re going to reject that yummy looking red velvet cupcake sitting on the kitchen counter, but you probably aren’t.

 I’ve been through the agonising warfare fought between 'gluttony' and 'I-can’t-fit-into-my-jeans'. This is often a 'no-win' situation that would force any dieter to check into a psyche ward ASAP! It’s a torturous conflict which usually results in: a) Guilt  or  b) A fridge raid at midnight to curb those cravings. Depriving yourself of life’s little pleasures is just not worth the effort, so it’s important to find easy food swaps that will satisfy your cravings, without compromising the size of your 'lil derrière.

·         Start the day off with a huge breakfast - your metabolism (and mind) needs to reset itself after all those nightmares of Snooki running for president. Oatmeal made with fat-free milk, vanilla essence, a few raisins and almond flakes is my ideal way to start of the day. Top it with cinnamon for an extra dose of flavour, which also lowers your blood glucose level. Fewer cravings = a speedy slim down!

·         A whole-wheat pita, topped with fat-free cottage cheese, veggies and hot sauce (speeds up you metabolism!) is the perfect way to fake a pizza. Trust me on this one!

·         My name is Mayuri and I-am-a-popcorn-addict. The only flawed aspect of this is that I usually buy a large box at the movies, refuse to share and proceed to stuff my face like that guy on Diners, Dives and Drive Ins. Movie popcorn usually has as many kilojoules as a cheeseburger, and enough fat to send your arteries into shock. NOT COOL. My tip? Buy a kids size box, or sneak in your own snacks.

·         I’m the biggest advocate for not drinking your kilojoules, but it’s cold and I need a hot drink. Too much sugar, and too much fat makes Mayuri’s waistline throw a tantrum, so I suggest going for  Cadbury Hi-Lights is my favourite Winter warm-up – it has half the sugar as regular hot chocolate AND far less fat!

·         “Let them eat cake” – Yes, please, with extra icing on the side! I have been named and shamed as a sugar addict by my family, and I don’t mind discussing my personal relationship with the satisfying sweet stuff. I’ll never reject a luscious looking slice of cake, especially when it sends me on a one-way trip down my very own yellow brick road. Ever. So, I’ve found a few recipes that cut down on kilojoules, but still manage to let me succumb to a food coma.  

Beetroot choc cake                                   Skinny choc cookies

Skinny red velvet cupcakes                Low-fat banana bread
Fudgy Choc pudding                      Lighter cheesecake!

Call Me Maybe...

Once upon a time, there lived an attractive, intelligent and innocent young girl. This was no ordinary lass - she was as wise as she was fair; and her good sense seemed to keep her heart from falling prey to the grand gestures favoured by the male species of her time. Yes, she was the exception to the rule. This young woman knew how the story usually panned out: A not-so-ugly boy (in pants that were way too tight) would confess his undying lust for the foolish lass, commonly followed by the classic wooing technique - he would rip out a weed or two from the neighbour’s garden, and pass them off as symbols of his love and commitment. The Mr Darcy wannabe would proceed to shred her ego and cardiac system into a million minute pieces. The end.
 

Okay, so the dreamy Disney tale might not go this way, but life has a way of  taking a not-so-fun detour every now and then. Boys are usually too much work, too hard to maintain, and sadly our brain cells don’t always seem to filter through the heart-breakers. Today's typical 20-something will most likely refrain from getting her palm felt up, preferring a weekly rendezvous session with a close pal.

I blame dear old liquid confidence for creating the illusion that ‘friends with benefits’ will work, and that you will still be friends once the spark has died (or at least until that bottle of vodka has reached its end). We seem to have made the transition from faux love letters proclaiming our undying love for the boy-next-door, to drunken scribbles declaring “Call me maybe” across a paper towel. Most of this 'hoo-ha' can be attributed to the fact that our fears have started to outweigh any ounce of left-over romance that we might have had from the era of “Nobody puts Baby in the corner”.

Have we abandoned all delusions of romance in favour of something a little less painful, and a whole lot safer? Love. Amore. Liebe. A language of Cupid’s arrows, lust and throbbing hearts. Sure, it has its benefits.  An infamous number of car doors and heart-shaped candy boxes have been bought under the presumption of ‘I got you babe’. Why would any sane female leave all these perks behind, and favour a pseudo-corpse who will be out that door before the drool from your mouth has barely dried? The textbook answer seems to be that we are scared. Frightened. In fact, we are downright terrified of caring about someone who might not feel the same. 

Most women need to have the upper hand in a relationship, which usually results in the desire to ‘leave before we are left’. Unrequited adoration has haunted the feminine mind for eons, and frequently forces us to play the dating game far too casually. The roles have reversed; we have absorbed every single rule that rom-coms have taught us: Be the exception and NOT the rule. How?

Play it dirty. Mess with his psyche. Don’t call him back. Don’t fall for his one-liners AND never, ever leave your toothbrush at his place! 

The gloomy part of all of this is that we may one day say NO to someone who is so obviously a YES. So, my dear feminists, I urge you to think twice before you pretend to not care about that dear boy who wants to wine, dine and cuddle the life out of you. He might actually like you - and you might be more than just a game to him. 

6 Cats & a Bottle of Wine

My pet hates? Hmmm.. mullets, the socks & sandals
combo, moustaches (ONLY Johnny Depp can pull
off facial hair!) and girls who hate being alone.
I love the glory that comes from "Yes, I will pay
for my own cocktail", changing a light-bulb or two
and opening a car door all by myself.

Feminism made its arrival far too late, and our dear departed sisters paid the price. So, in my opinion (not that anyone asked), I think its a little "poor minded" when some girls claim that they hate being single. Spending some time by yourself. Enjoying a little 'me time' while happily munching on one too many bowls of chocolate cereal in your Winnie the Pooh PJ's. I'm the first to proclaim that I love being single, love growing up solo and love downing shots with my besties (yes, we occasionally become 'WHOO" girls). BUT (and this a very large arsed, let-me-bury-my-head-in-the-sand BUT), I have recently realised that I might want to eat my words.

It's Winter. The dreaded and hated 3 months of the year for most singles. Every lass needs a cuddle buddy, and the hot water bottle might not cut it this time! Winter suddenly starts to resemble a war zone straight out of the Middle East, as everyone scrambles to secure a date. It's every girl for herself. The couples wearing matching flannel, and holding hands at the movies? "I SPIT ON YOU". Yes, that was meant to be said in my best Godfather impersonation. 

It's rather hard finding a sane member of the male species to take a girl out on a date. The only guys who seem to hit on me these days are either:

a) Construction workers – yes, whistling is a proper greeting.

b) Hobos. Sure, I'll share my veggie sandwich with you.
c) Not my type. 

It suddenly dawns on me – am I too picky? Will I one day find myself alone, swimming in botox, armed with a bottle of vino, while my 6 cats happily purr at my heels. NO – I'll have 6 dogs! Breaking the stereotype, yay me. Maybe I should have said yes to that guy who I dismissed simply because he seemed a little keen for my liking – sure, he could have turned into a drooling, clingy mutt, BUT I might have been judging too quickly. We don't know if we'll like something until we try it, right? That piece of sashimi I'm craving right now? I spent months avoiding it because it looked a little to fishy for my liking – until I one day, I decided to screw my fears, and jump face first into a plate of Ocean Basket love. Note to reader: I am now an avid lover of all things from the sea.

My point? Taking a chance on that guy who seems too needy, too nerdy and too 'eeuw', might turn into taking a chance on something potentially amazing. We judge too much, too quickly and often through beer goggles – but, we're young and dating is the best after school activity during the cold, Winter months. 

Coupling up right now is nothing to be ashamed off. And, stuffing my face with sashimi has turned out to be one of the best decisions that I have ever made. 

Stop Jugglin' Them Balls

Juggling is really not as fun as it looks. Sure, throwing balls in different directions, and having them land exactly where you want can be empowering. But, in the name of all that is good in the world (Lady Gaga, Jersey Shore, Astros etc.), let the balls hit you in your freshly made-up face and all hell breaks loose. Trying to fit in friends, family, late night cocktails, the male species and a dose of Grey’s Anatomy into one’s life is a challenge. Trust me – striving for perfection in a world that is consumed with getting it all right should not be a goal of yours.

I’ve recently joined the ‘cool people’. You know, the ones who have to be at work at 9am, do the laundry before work if they hope to have pj’s (minus the gigantic toothpaste stain) to sleep in that night, and the ones who trawl the grocery store looking for the latest bargains. Yes, the highlight of my day has become 7:30pm – that’s when Isidingo is on! I have become a working woman. Between the long route to work (filled with people who don’t seem to have ever heard of the term ‘morning shower’) and trying not to pass out during the day, I’ve morphed into someone who tries to fit a million little things into my life before Friday arrives. Note to everyone: Rebecca Black really did know a thing or two. 

The point I’m desperately struggling to make is that trying to do it all is hard. I really don’t know how our mothers managed to play superwoman for so long. I mean I don’t even have a kid/goldfish/pot plant to take care of, and even I feel mentally harassed by the to-do-list I have running around in my head every night. I decided to get a diary last week – well actually, it was free, and so my inner Indian couldn’t resist it. I meticulously scribble my tasks for the day, and then begin to stab the page when I have checked something off. Really quite empowering.

I suggest that you save a ‘lil time for your favourite fixation each day. It might not be Isidingo, but hey, if it makes you break out into a cheesy Colgate smile, then go for it! Becoming consumed by work, leaves you with nearly not enough time to play – and we all need a regular dose of play-time in the sandpit (hip flask in hand) every now and then. 

I’ve decided to do one thing that I love everyday, which may sound cheesy, but motivates me to get my derrière out of bed every morning. Think about it - strolling through life and checking points off lists, will eventually result in the human race mutating into Eeyore’s. And yes, he may have been cute in a ‘let’s-go-jump-off-a-bridge’ manic depressive way, but he never smiled. Plus, his voice reminds me of those hushed tones which old people adopt when they’re talking at a funeral ("Yes, Johnny was such a good, honest young fella – what a pity"). 

SO, make your moment today, and do something that forces you into your happy place. Whether it be eating peanut butter on a spoon or doodling a cartoon of your mother-in-law, just do it! Just don’t juggle balls. They tend to fall. Eventually.

Retro Hair Please

Retro styles inspired by Old Hollywood

With movie such as "My Week With Marilyn" almost on circuit, the darlings of LaLa Land seem to be using and abusing their luscious locks. Inspired by old Hollywood, today's retro hairstyles are both chic, glam and very very daring!

Four Little Letters

It's weird how people choose one day out of a potential 365, to prove that they love their significant other/ significant cat. I am not at all opposed to receiving chocolates or flowers; in fact Valentines Day usually brings out my inner girl. But, I'm just somewhat confused as to why you would simply choose a single day on which to express your deepest desires and "fidelity".

I usually spend the day practicing my "law of attraction" techniques, imagining that some poor sod will take pity on me in the chocolate aisle of the supermarket, and proceed to wine and dine my lovely self. Sigh - a girl can dream. The day usually pans out with my friends and I ranting about how depressing the day is, filled with endless Facebook wall posts from those whom are coupled up.

"I love my *insert name* so much. He rocks my world." 
(5 minutes later)

"I love him even more than I did 5 minutes ago. *Insert name* let's run away together, have our 2.5 kids and build our white picket fence."

I really hate sounding bitter, but the fact is that an overdose of mushy love can do this to a girl. I blame it on all the corny movies that lied to me as a kid. Oh yes, I will one day get kidnapped by a bunch of short men, who will take me to the woods, and thus make way for a dashing prince to kiss me, and wake me from my slumber. Oh, and who could forget the aesthetically challenged man, whom will make me fall in love with him with a single growl and his house full of talking furniture.

The Notebook

Oh wait, I do sound bitter. Let's laugh this moment off, and pretend that we are grateful for the "kick her, she's single" signs on our backs. Girly dinners filled with rude shaped gifts and bottomless wine is the best cure for days like this. I say, spend it it with the girls who hold back your hair when things get a little too fun, the ones whom promise to beat up any guy who plays with your cardiovascular system, and the one who help you clean your flat when the fridge decides to overflow with the smell of death.  Make today a celebration of the all those you love - friends, family and pets alike.

Just try to enjoy every moment of every love and loss. It really does teach you something.