What do you want?

You ask yourself this question dozens of times a week.

When you’re out to lunch in the café with your best friend.

When you go to the movies.

When you go shoe shopping.

And yet, despite being able to choose, do you actually know what you want?

Just think about it for a mo.

Do You Know What You Really Want?

I’m not talking salmon pink lipstick or coral sunset shimmer. This isn’t ham and cheddar or turkey and provolone.

I mean, do you know yourself well enough to actually know what your deepest desires are?

Fact is, most people don’t.

Truth is, maybe you don’t either.

Avoiding What You Really Want

It’s easy, isn’t it? Switching off. Existing on autopilot. Going with the flow. Allowing the outside world to decide what’s fashionable, acceptable, and obtainable.

You end up eating at that stupid restaurant again – even though the food is awful and makes you feel ill – just because your friends couldn’t think of a better place.

Your closet is full of clothes you’re supposed to love, because they’re in all the fashion mags right now (but you never wear them).

You chose a solid and sensible career path that pays well and has a pension plan – but you hate your job and spend most of your day sneaking into social media, jealous and deflated.

The word "awful" in the middle of sprinkles

Maybe you’ll make it out the other end just fine. Perhaps you’ll retire early and move to Tahiti.

But more likely than not, you’ll end up miserable. Full of regrets. Covered in premature wrinkles and probably struggling with illness.

Maybe you’re already there and this is already you.

In fact, you may actually be repelling what you really want (through mindset, habits, and patterns).

Yikes.

How to Know How to Want What You Want

Knowing what you really want in life isn’t a simple case of choosing pink socks over blue and deciding you’re a vegetarian.

Pink and blue colored pencils

It’s unflinching introspection.

It’s examining your failures.

It’s pinpointing your limiting beliefs.

It’s noticing your own patterns.

It’s being honest with yourself and allowing the truth to rise to the surface.

Sometimes knowing what you really want is painful.

In 2015 I had a near death experience that revealed some pretty shocking things. All sorts of stuff came out of the woodwork, revealing that 27 years of knowing myself didn’t mean I knew a thing. Because I’d never really looked. I’d never really wanted to see.

I’m going out on a limb here: I believe that the number one key to happiness is knowing what you want, devising a plan to get there, and enjoying the journey of pursuit.

The same with healing and wellness. You’ve got to get mega clear about it. 

(That is to say: not avoiding the truth, going with the crowd, and fretting every time life goes belly up.)

You can go off and get your happy pills somewhere else, if you’d prefer. But I’m getting juicy with this stuff, so stick around if you want to get real honey honey.

Capsules with sprinkles inside - happy pills

The Magic of Knowing What You Want

1. Find Yourself

The first stop is checking out the Find Who You Really Are guide. I go through this check list at least once a year to make sure I’m staying clear and centered. It gets right down to the truth of the matter.

4 headless dolls with a question mark above their necks

2. Spend Time Alone

I suggest adding this to your routine as a regular practice of self-love if it’s not already in your repertoire. However, specifically for this exercise, pencil in some serious alone time to allow yourself to cultivate a clear picture from within. No phones. No ear buds. You may even choose to do a mindfulness, meditation, or hypnosis session to stimulate your subconscious mind into action (that’s where all the deepest stuff lives).

3. Write It Out

Write out 100 things you’d like to do in your life. Don’t hold back. Make lists or journals or notes. I love pen and paper, but however it flows for you, just get those thoughts out. Don’t judge. Just observe them. What a wonderful victory to be in this space of openness and forgiveness with yourself.

4. Get Clear

Boil your ideas right down to concise goals. Be clear and specific. I’d like to become a beautician by 2020. I want to overcome my digestive issues and teach aerobics within 2 years. I’d like to get married in Spain by the time I’m 30.

5. Organize

Avoid overwhelm and burnout by organizing your notes in order of preference. Your number one goal should be the thing you want most in the whole world.

A vintage woman's face

Devising a Plan

1. Celebrate!

Hurrah! Now you know what you want. That’s amazing. Give yourself credit for taking the time to find those gems.

2. Settle Your Subconscious

You may be dealing with all sorts of background noise from your subconscious mind; old stories, limiting beliefs, bad experiences, rough memories. These things can get in the way if you don’t tend your mental garden. Refer to my published article on finerminds.com,

Best Manifestation Advice From 3 Powerful Women: A Real Life Guide to Living the Dream.

3. Face Fear Strategically

Fear plays an important role in life; it protects us from many dangers and much harm. The problem is when it goes overkill, and we hand over control to its maniac diligence. Knowing what we want is scary; getting what we want can be absolutely terrifying.

Manage your fears wisely. Hypnosis has changed my life, but there are many therapies (that you can do at home, for free) that will save you years of self-sabotage, procrastination, and blow out.

A woman practising hypnosis for Knowing What You Want

4. Plan

Your desires are only as good as the action you put behind them. Many people allow their dreams and desires to smother them because they get overwhelmed.

Look at your top goals. Think about how you want to feel. What has to happen to get to those places and feelings? Doesn’t matter if the list is miles long; one step at a time will get you there. Write out a detailed plan that you can begin to take action on when you’re ready.

5. Act

Now you have everything in place, begin! You may start with renting a library book, sending an email, or doing some research. Small is good! In fact, it helps to create a sense of safety and progress for your subconscious mind to feel secure in (and since it’s in charge of 97% of your actions, you definitely want your subconscious sista to feel happy).

Enjoying the Journey

1. Stay Centered

Go back through all these steps at least once or twice a year (or whenever you feel a little wayward). Not only will it give you fresh perspective, but it will encourage you to stay on track and remind you of why you’re doing this in the first place.

We all fall off the wagon from time to time; no judgement. A friendly nudge is all you need.

2. Stay Grateful

Every moment is progress. And, as Louise Hay says, “Every experience is a success.” When you re-frame your life with these words, you can only ever be thankful for every moment, good or (seemingly) bad.

Find a gratitude practice that works for you. Maybe share three things you’re grateful for today with your partner. Or keep a gratitude journal. Or recite a prayer of thanks every time you take your supplements. 

3. Be Open to Surprises

Barbie holding a party favour

There’s this fairly toxic idea around the concept of manifesting that says you can “have everything you want,” like it’s some sort of mail-order catalogue system. In one sense that’s true (if you align your mindset correctly), but it largely gets thrown around as “everything is going to happen exactly the way you expect” – which is not only not true, but likely to lead to disappointment and burnout.

On your journey to getting what you want, you must remain open to unexpected versions of events cropping up. You will only be disappointed here if you choose to be. The alternative is that you might actually end up accepting something far greater than your original version.

If you don’t get the job of your dreams, bear in mind that the less dreamy version may be the one that is meant for you, packed with happiness and fulfillment. Level your expectations by being open.

4. Have Faith and be Patient

Gabby Bernstein says, “Those who are certain of the outcome can afford to wait, and wait without anxiety.” And by “certain of the outcome,” she basically means that you have the confidence to believe your dreams are worthy of coming true.

You believe you will be able to eat normally again.

You believe you will break free of habits and patterns.

You believe you will overcome your body-image issues.

You believe in yourself. For real. For keeps. Even when it’s crap and hard and horrible. You just keep on.

Spend a little time cultivating these beliefs each day. Seed the feeling of victory in your heart and mind, and water that seed each day. Say a prayer. Meditate on it. Light a candle and set an intention. Visualize it.

Getting What You Want

A pink sky

It’s not magic; it’s method.

And it’s not reserved for the privileged or star-crossed few.

Getting what you want is a journey.

What shoes you wear on that journey are up to you.

What paths you follow on that journey are up to you.

What joy you find on that journey is up to you.

Get happy.

Get well.

Get beautiful.

Yes yes yes.

 

Tell me. What amazing dreams are you breathing life into? How have you defeated reality and become the magician of your own manifestation? What’s your secret to happiness? I want to know. 

 

Experience Exquisite Wellness Today

With Your FREE Guide:

7 Steps to Sexy, Juicy, Empowered Healing & Wellbeing

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You Deserve True Healing

Book your FREE 15 minute appointment with my

LIFE SAVING Functional Medicine Practitioner Brie Wieselman today.**

**Brie is now my affiliate partner, so let her know who sent you and thank you for supporting us both.

Hello you sexy beast.

I Know Why You’re Here

It’s not that you want to improve your selfie face.

lady smearing lipstick onto glass

You’ve already got all the lipstick. Your closet is packed full of leather and lace. You’ve got the heels,

the tightest jeans, and the blow dry.

All of that is so old news. Everybody has that stuff.

It’s boring.

Nah, you came here because you want something else.

Some different. Something more.

It’s not enough to be pretty. It’s only five minutes of fun to take a photo of yourself

looking drop dead gorgeous. Doesn’t last.

It’s not enough to ace an awesome make-up tutorial from Pinterest. You look great, sure. But there it goes again.

That feeling. It’s only shallow, fleeting.

What is it?

What is that thing that’s missing, that you’re craving, that you’re desperate for?

I know.

Come closer, and I’ll tell.

You don’t want pretty and certainly not perfect – that means nothing, and frankly everyone

seems to be able to pull that off these days anyway.

No. You want to be fierce. Strong. Magnificent.

A blurry picture of a woman

You want your hair to be insane.

You want your bright red mouth to breathe fire and spine tingling truth.

You want people to be absolutely undone by how feral your spirit is.

You want your bare feet and bare face and bare skin to shock the planet with it’s recklessness.

You want your body to be completely and totally unhinged.

Woman biting a piece of paper that says "pretty" because she is a beautiful wild savage thing

You want to be a beautiful wild savage thing.

Forget safe.

Abandon pretty.

Embrace the dark, sacred uncertainty of self.

Find who you are.

Be brave. 

Here’s how. 

A poster for how to be a beautiful wild savage thing of a Naked woman with a flower crown

Tell me. Are you scared to death of being your true self? Did your mother disown you when you revealed you liked dressing like the opposite sex? Are you desperate join a nudist colony? I want to know.

Ready to find True Healing?

Book your FREE 15 minute appointment with my

LIFE SAVING Functional Medicine Practitioner Brie Wieselman today.**

You can also hop on over to get sexy, juicy, empowered healing and wellbeing from MegaBeauts

(FREE FREE FREE!)

**Brie is now my affiliate partner, so let her know who sent you and thank you for supporting us both.

 

You’re on a first date.

So pumped. Nervous and a bit sick, too. You’ve been crushing on this dude for months.

But.

Your forehead.

It’s a blanket of angry, lumpy pustules that clod up into a clumpy mess when you try to hide them with 16 layers of greasy concealer.

Barbie needing a miracle cure for acne because she has terrible skin

What to Do When Your Acne Is Running the Show

If the diner is well lit, you can’t let him get too close or he’ll see.

Or what about waking up next to him in the morning?

Did you sleep in your shroud of foundation so he didn’t see the uneven scarring along your jawline?

Did you wake up extra early, so you could swallow your skin up with more facepaint, so that when he made you pancakes you could eat them and laugh and joke like you’re not mortified by the state of your epidermis?

Or what about him?

I mean, as a guy, he doesn’t even have the option to wear foundation.

Because if he did, that’d mean he was totally gay and weird and society simply couldn’t accept a man wearing make-up to cover his zits, right?

(For the record, I think all dudes should be able to wear whatever the H they want, glitter included).

Ken Doll hiding his face because he has acne and needs a miracle cure for acne

When Acne Begins to Ruin Your Life

This was me. For years. Through dates, boyfriends, weddings (even my own wedding), and years of marriage.

Avoiding the light that might reveal my carefully hidden secrets.

Not allowing my husband to cup my face in his lovely hands because he might smudge my carefully constructed veneer.

Wearing make-up to bed, covering my face with pillows in the morning till I could dash to the bathroom and carry out damage control.

I spent years, YEARS, trying to control my acne – and by control, I just mean reducing it to a manageable state. I wasn’t even asking for beautiful skin. Just mostly free of the crustiest pimples, please.

I tried everything.

Creams, serums, pastes, natural, over-the-counter, chemical, muds, masks, ointments, cheap, expensive, complicated.  

I saw doctors, dermatologists, naturopaths, acupuncturists.   

I even took Accutane, which damaged my liver and was a monumental mistake.  

Barbie covering her acne covered face with hair because she needs a miracle cure for acne

The Life Changing Discovery

But then.

When I was 23, I discovered 2 things.

And they CHANGED MY LIFE.

I don’t like sensational statements overmuch, but let me say again, they CHANGED MY LIFE.

I went from Pizza Face Princess (for 12 years!) to having beautifully clear skin.

 

Free of pustules, papules, redness, swelling, scabbing, puss filled mess.

In recent years, because I am so passionate about skin, I trained up and became an esthetician and skin specialist. I briefly worked in a cosmetic clinic and part of my pay was a commission based scheme based on how many products I could push onto clients.

So many people came to me, desperate for acne solutions.

Naturally, I had a cupboard full of expensive “remedies” that were chemical laden cocktails of half baked promises.

I knew that.

But they were desperate.

And more than willing to try anything.

Maybe you’ve been there.

I know I have.

The truth is, I had to quit the skin business, because it was a system of lies.

It was cheap synthetics dressed up as a fashionable fix. Businesses wanting to capitalize on your desperation without actually curing your problems.

Even a lot of the so-called “natural” products are guilty of over-promising, under-delivering, over-charging and under-regulating the safety of ingredients.

No more, babies.

Anna’s Radical Remedy for Acne

I offer you this free advice because you deserve to have beautiful skin.

Today.

Right now.

From a qualified professional.

And a caring friend.

It only requires 3 ingredients, and bit of time.

And it doesn’t cost the earth.

And it’s totally safe and absolutely natural.

Today I am sharing my Radical Remedy For Acne.

The one no one wants you to know about. The one that has been hidden from you your whole life.

This is a personal endorsement.

I am not an affiliate beneficiary.

I get nothing from these recommendations besides the pure satisfaction of knowing you will no longer have to worry about whether or not she sees the third eye growing between your brows, or cut your hair in a specific way to hide as much of your face as possible.

Barbie with no acne after using the Miracle Cure for AcneNo jokes, folks – this is Radical Remedy for real

Take back your confidence today.

Take a look at my Radical Remedy for Acne

You never know.

Might just change your life forever.

But before we begin, one final note:
Stop using the pink foamy cleansers, toners, exfoliants, chemicals, and blah. Just stop. You can read my published article for an in depth look into why. 

Good luck.  

You got this.

Get Anna’s Radical Remedy For Acne for free, now!  

Anna's Radical Remedy for Acne

Tell me. Do you wear make-up to bed every night to hide from your partner? Do you have to spend 26 hours covering up hideous acne with out-of-date concealer? Have you had spots on your face since you were born? I want to know.

Desperate for True Healing?

Book your FREE 15 minute appointment with my

LIFE SAVING Functional Medicine Practitioner Brie Wieselman today.**

You can also hop on over to get sexy, juicy, empowered healing and wellbeing from MegaBeauts

(FREE FREE FREE!)

**Brie is now my affiliate partner, so let her know who sent you and thank you for supporting us both.

Don’t you kind of hate beauty blogs?

So freaking perfect. Sexy sea hair. Never sweaty. 

Me in the Bahamas, loving the sun, sipping a cocktail, being gorgeous, obviously

Hate is a bit harsh.

And I’m definitely not hating on beauty bloggers. 

They’ve got one small corner of the world tidied very neatly up in couture satin and exceptionally glamorous photography. They do the do with stylized perfection, flawless finish, and seemingly effortless grace.

Actually, I quite like a beauty blog from time to time.

The Importance of Beauty Blogs

The world could do with making a little more room for beauty and a little (or a lot) less room for spiralling, exponential existentialism.

But.

After a bonanza of beauty, I very quickly sniffed out a common silk thread among them: high-end product reviews, looking like a million casual bucks over muesli breakfast with raspberries, and endless holiday snaps with choral bikinis and designer sunglasses.

Who cares?! It’s not like I want to float in the azure waters of paradise, so carelessly cool and amazing.

A flawless depiction of Barbie and beauty blogsThe actual pink of perfection

Just kidding.

That’s great. It’s cool. I can deal.

A Different Kind of Beauty Blog

Except for, don’t you kind of want some depth? Like spine tingling, tears in your eyes, possibly-going-to-vomit-depth?

Don’t you want to find yourself?

Learn how to love who you are in the best possible way right now?

Find beauty that’s more than designer labels?

A sense of meaning and purpose and life and lust and freaking magic?

Create a life that emanates beauty from within?

Maybe you don’t want depth. Maybe the superficial mamas will be the last ones standing, laughing in next season’s moody mauve kitten heels, while I’m slung over a railing with chunks in my hair.

That would be less cool and I would be less interested in dealing – but I do have a sneaking suspicion there are some folks out there with a similarly unsatisfied appetite.

So, let’s eat. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.

Without taking anything away from the well edited and carefully cultivated, I’m simply looking to carve out my gorgeous corner with everything that falls between the cracks.

What you’re afraid of. 

The real reason you spend all your money on clothes you don’t need. 

Your shitty disappointments and the odd face plant.

The actual time it takes and the real size and shape of things.

Give me the main course, baby.

Barbie with mangled handRough times for Barbie, but she’s still MegaBeauts

I’m all for a five minute fantasy. Sometimes, it’s just what I need.

But I want my meat and two veg, too.

Creating a Beautiful Mindset


So, if you want to stick to the creatively-calculated-straight-and-narrow, you have my blessing. Go forth and bask in immaculately manicured oblivion. 

If, however, you’re happy for shit to get real, and possibly hit the fan, you’ve arrived at the right place, and very much on time. If you want to take back your brain, body and beauty from the mess of uncertainty, doubt, and fear – Oh honey. You be at the right place. 

Lots of jewellery hitting the fan Thoroughly real, thoroughly hit

In the interests of introducing you to the flavor profile of this site, here is a little example of the kind of deep I’m talking about:

My coming of age story with regards to my personal vanity is so fraught with uncertainty and such bum-clenchingly awful choices, both in the cosmetic and sartorial sense, that I’m prickled with embarrassment at the merest mention of it.

Me wearing a paper hat and a big green Christmas bow on my Rome T-shirtNo comment

I actually went on a rampage several years ago and disposed of many photographs of me in said state. I regret.

More bad fashion when I was youngWowsa

My Not So Beautiful Past

Neither my mother nor sister were or are much concerned with make-up, fashion, products, high heels or flattering neck lines. They are so supremely practical, they are not interested in playing host to such frivolous notions. My mother is still waiting for when I get a real job.

I envy them sometimes; even though their abstinence lacks the electric zing of a brand new tube of vermilion vengeance lipstick. Their refusal to be defined by the often demanding, demeaning, and deluding aspects of coral shimmer narcissism makes them absolutely gorgeous with a kind of freedom my own regimens don’t make room for.

Anyway, the point is, these two leading ladies in my life had nothing to offer me in the way of beauty wisdom, so I had to cut through the thicket of self-expression with my own uninformed wits. Definite disasters ensued.

Earrings in a camellia bushThe jungles of sartorial uncertainty, rife with dainty dangers

My whole life, I had built up this mud splattered, bruise bearing, basketball playing, tough-girl-Tom-boy attitude; when the compunction to look pretty hit me somewhere around 15, the whole concept was intimidating, alarmingly alien, and utterly confusing.

Me looking awful at 14, with no access to beauty blogsJust don’t

Before Beauty Blogs

Now, you have to bear in mind that at the time, there was no Pinterest, no Youtube tutorials, no beauty blogs. I grew up in a po-dunk small town in the middle of conservative Nowhere America, and so my inspirations were limited to trees and cows and the celebrity mags near the check out at the grocery store that my mother really didn’t allow me to read.

Lucky girls had subscriptions to Teen Cosmopolitan, but we didn’t have the money for that and I would’ve been way too mortified to be seen reading such a girly mag anyway. We didn’t have a computer at home, and the school machines were obsessively monitored, with anything useful was usually kept under strict lock-and-key.

Hormones and Desperation

My first eye shadow compact was a pink and pearl mix, about twenty years old, and already used enough that the shiny silver plate under the packed powder was visible to about the size of a nickel. I found it at the back of the cupboard under the sink, covered in the slightly sticky film that things in the bathroom always seem to get after a long time. It smelt funny and was a fairly obscene shade of fuchsia, but I was into it.

One of my friends introduced me to the concept of liquid eyeliner, which pretty well blew my mind. I was so intensely needy of this modern wonder that I spent $7 on a tiny pot of the stuff, feeling like I’d just taken out my first mortgage.

Naturally, I used far, far too much of it, in every shape of asymmetry you can think of.

It was not good.

I can only imagine what my mother must’ve been thinking.

My face made up to be a granny in protest to perfect beauty blogsMy actual face

The ritual became religious. It took me two hours to get ready in the morning; I would sit on the bathroom counter with my feet in the sink, blaring out my radio, snapping at anyone else who dared to knock on the door with their inferior needs.

I did this for so many years, that I actually developed a divot in the lower right side of my right leg, where it rested against the lip of the sink all those mornings.

The indent was obvious enough that people asked me what was wrong – and that lasted until I was well into my twenties.

Barbie dong her make-up in the sinkSinkhole if ever there was one

Eventually, the liquid liner of dreams started to dry out. I added water to it, which made it a slightly gloppier version of itself, but I made it last for quite a while like that – no doubt contributing to the already cringe worthy state of affairs on my face.

When it finally ran out in earnest, I didn’t have the money to buy any more; I resorted to using a mechanical pencil dipped into my mascara tube to continue on with the Gothic massacre of my eyes.

It was not until I was firmly into my twenties that I could actually afford decent make-up, and didn’t need to rely on my stationary drawer for assistance. With a bit of confidence, a bit more money, and some formal beauty education, I finally managed to get it together. Mostly.

Creating Beauty Despite the Past, Present, or Future

Years of my life were spent in fear, doubt, loneliness, my bones rattling with uncertainty and self loathing.

And I don’t want that for you.

This is MegaBeauts. Where you and me and everyone else can be just totally juiced up on the weird, real, backward, not sure, round-the-houses, frenzied world of beauty as it occurs to us everyday. And take all that mess and find our power in it. Take back our brains because we smart mamas. Take back our bodies because we strong bitches. Take back our beauty because we own that shit. 

Ready for sexy, juicy, empowered healing and wellbeing from MegaBeauts?

Hop on over for some equisitely beautiful love.

(FREE FREE FREE!)

 

Tell me. Was your ugly duckling story simply awful? Did you try and wear a paper bag over your head to hide the worst haircut (that you gave yourself)? Was being fifteen the most frightening experience you’ve ever had?

 

I’d like to congratulate myself on twenty-eight years of avoiding magnified mirrors.

Really. And it’s not because I was never tempted, either. I assure you, I’ve been in my fair share of bathrooms where one was winking malignly at me from its angle poised position in life.

I mean, have you ever EVER seen yaself in one of them things?

Sister, truly, I ask you, what were you thinking

Hello Truth Bomb

I must now confess: On a summer road trip with my husband, we crashed in at a motel which was equipped with the aforementioned torture device.

You know what’s coming.

Exhausted, stuffed with weird travel food, cramped from hours of driving, thoroughly dehydrated, and otherwise not the least bit ready for my close up, my defences were down, my resolve collapsed, and I gave into the alluring depths of the mirror mirror on the wall.

The only remaining question is Why? Why oh why oh why?

A woman seeing her magnified face and scared of magnified mirrors

I can say with unbiased clarity, I was not the fairest of them all.

Wicked witch looking in the mirror

Do Magnified Mirrors Tell the Truth?

I met parts of me that I never knew existed.

I consider my brows to be one of the small victories in my life, but mother save us, how had I missed this wilderness?

However, that wasn’t even the half of the situation: cavernous pores full of sebaceous abundance, thirty-seven raven black hairs on my chin (skyscrapers in a desert, I’m telling you – not a single inconspicuous thing about them), a constellation of blackheads and blemishes, topped off neatly with the deepening crevices of an alarmingly ageing terrain.

Man with pink eyes gazing

A Reckoning

The question is, though, does the fact that I’ve never seen myself in microscopic Technicolor before now mean that all this time, the world has been harassed by my unkempt beard and cracked veneer?

Or does it mean that this mag monster shows you what no one sees, what no one could ever really see without a medical implement, but nevertheless tricks your self-confidence into shrinking down to the hundred calorie snack pack version of its formal glory just because it can?

Somebody, please tell me it’s not just me!

Tiny cereal box on a spoon

On the one hand, it may be a thoroughly practical utensil, saving us all from certain peril.

However, very firmly on the other hand, I want to know what the almighty driving force behind the conception of this contraption was.

Friend or foe, I wonder?

And, moreover, how does anyone get out of bed ever again after adhering one of these soul suckers to the mosaic tiled wall of their powder room?

How can you (quite literally) face yourself ever again, particularly if you know that face is afflicted with a certain kind of temporary but grotesque giantism?

Genuinely. I want to know.

Here I was faced in every sense of the word with all my vainest demons.

Will my husband stay with me or run off with the pretty receptionist who doesn’t have a moustache?

My Face Is so Disgusting

Not to mention my legs.

The cellulite.

Eugh.

I wish I could tell you that I enjoyed my ghastly reflection for what it was, set the whole place on fire, and then skipped merrily along without two cares in the world.

But I didn’t.

I wallowed.

And obsessed.

And relished.

It was like when you look at the sky at night and see a million stars, then look again and see two million, then again and this time for longer, and you realize that there’s actually hardly any sky at all – just a wimpy thin blanket thrown over an immeasurable infinity of celestial light.

That was me and my upper-most appendage as projected by that amplification apparatus – layers and layers of discovery lying in wait, just significantly less awe inspiring and substantially more troubling than the heavens.

Further still, to add sufficient insult to blunt-force injury, I went directly to town on de-constructing my dermal infrastructure for a solid half an hour  (or more – I deliberately avoided looking at the clock during this inquest) while my husband waited to brush his teeth (he was totally bushed and just wanted to go to bed, but I was fiendishly selfish in this exploit).

I picked, squeezed, scratched, stretched, plucked, pulled, distorted, and otherwise assaulted myself with brutal precision. I can report with scientifically conclusive evidence, this initiative did not improve the situation. At all.

The only consolation was a long motel shower with never ending hot water (which does, in fact, heal many hurts and mend many mistakes).

When I got out, the big eye was still watching me, but since it was fogged over with the steam, I easily turned my back on it, not noticing its chromy appeal, not caring one bit.

I vowed we were through, and we were.

The Beauty Mindset Gone Astray

Except for the part where I went back and did a bit more research and deep excavation. And a bit more. Just a couple more hairs. Just that spot there and the last one on my temple. And forehead.

The next morning, I embraced the long stretches of sunny, summer roads with a smattering of half moons stamped onto my cheeks and chin, where my fingernails had ruthlessly dug into my unsuspecting flesh.

Why do we subject ourselves to these things?

What are we looking to accomplish?

What fears are we hiding from?

The History of Mirrors

Perhaps the evolution of mirrors has always been a double edged sword – the implementation of such tools has allowed for us all to say the better to see you with my dear, but also Lord have mercy is that my face? in ever increasing degrees.

Where we may have originally used a serene pool of water to catch a gently undulating glimpse of ourselves, the first highly polished metal used by Egyptians to regard one’s visage must have come as a bit of a shock.

Versions of the first glass mirrors have been dated to as early as the first century AD, and I really feel for the folks who met their own surprising features for the first time in those new-fangled gadgets – hair raising in every sense of the word, I expect.

Barbie looking at her own reflection in water

Egyptian Barbie looking into a bronze mirror

Fifties Barbie looking in a mirror

So here we are today, and the modern mirror of magnification shines upon us with self destructive enlightenment.

My experience is just one in a long line of thousands of years and millions of people.

The Final Verdict for Magnified Mirrors

What to do?

Avoid.

I’m not fully prepared to be so contemporary.

I should like the closing of motel door #160 to mark the end of my brief romance with, but life-long divorce from, magnified mirrors.

If you have fallen victim to such vicious self flagellation, please, help yourself to some healing, hope filled hypnosis. It’s free

 

Tell me. Have you ever gone into the bathroom during a dinner date, ravaged your face by squeezing all your blackheads in the hideously lit mirror, and then had to (literally) face the consequences? Ever put on foundation at home that turned out to be all the wrong shade of orange in the work bathroom mirror? I want to know. 

Why are there so many ugly people in the world?

Maybe the cashier is an ugly bugger. Maybe your boyfriend. Maybe you.

Why?

I’ll let you in on a little secret.

But first, to illustrate my point:

For anyone who’s ever been a customer of any kind, this is a written rap on the knuckles.

Putting professionalism aside, I have to tell you that people are often the worst part of working in a customer facing position.

I’ve waited tables, been a barista in a coffee shop, worked in a library, liaised with top film designers and spent some time as a laser tech in a cosmetic clinic; they’re all the same.

The consensus I’ve come to is that as soon as you have a product or service to offer, you suddenly become the target of incessant complaint, dissatisfaction, and general over-exaggeration of the negative variety.

A woman frazzled by horrible clients and a terrible mindsetKnow what I mean?

What the heck? I’m here to tell you, that as customers, ya’ll have some manners to learn.

This may come as a shock, but:

The customer isn’t always right.

And yes, I’m talking to you.

And yes, I’ve read How to Win Friends and Influence People. Mr. Carnegie will be gnashing his teeth at this.

We’ve all been ripped off and had abysmal experiences that are worthy of a bum kicking.

I’ve launched my fair share of complaints in this life. Some have been fully justifiable.

Other complaints have shamed me with their bleak lack of necessity. 

I know ya’ll have done the same, so don’t pretend.

You’re wondering where the ugly part is.

I’m getting to that.

A Terrible Customer With A Supremely Ugly Mindset 

Here’s the situation: I was working in the cosmetic clinic. The client was very young, pretty, and petite. She came in once a month with her mother for Brazilian laser hair removal. Owing to the fact that this client was exceptionally sensitive, we literally spent four times the amount of time doing her treatment; we provided ice packs, took things really slowly, gave her plenty of breaks, and more or less bent over backwards to accommodate her fragile anatomy. We didn’t skimp on the service we provided for her, and even though it cost us quadruple the time, we did not charge her quadruple the price.

So, the point is, we tried and we cared.

The next morning, the first phone call we got before we were even technically open, was the mother of our sensitive client. She was emphatically and indignantly up in arms complaining about how her daughter was “made to feel extremely uncomfortable by highly inappropriate comments made regarding her treatment”.

A bear growling at a woman till her head fell off

For the record, this is what was said:

The Receptionist: Isn’t that nice, a mother bringing her daughter in for a laser treatment. I wish my mother would’ve done that for me.

Me: I know. Laser hair removal didn’t even exist when I was that age. It was a flimsy razor and you’re on your own.

The end.

Now, come on kids. I’m sure if you had the time, inclination, and imagination, you could infer, extrapolate, and otherwise completely misconstrue what we were saying into something sick, twisted, malign, cutting, personal, and unprofessional.

But, really?

For real?

What burns my biscuits the most is how these folks so obviously just totally missed the point here. Going the extra boring mile, spending (four times!) more time, offering the additional words of support and encouragement meant nothing.

In fact, these little missies felt something had been taken from them and that in addition to the extraneous provisions we made, we now owed them.

What the capital F?

Here’s the big reveal:

Ugly is a choice.

Now my memories of the young, pretty, petite girl are something more akin to whining, demanding, needy beast. 

Ugly is thoughts and words and actions manifested into something bigger than complexion and great hair.

Ugly is a choosing.

Ugly is an altering of perceptions to the point of distaste.

Ugly is allowing our fears to dictate our lives, moods, choices, and reactions. 

Ugly is showing people our insides, and revealing nothing but a cesspit.

And I’ll be honest: sometimes I’m one ugly bitch.

And I reckon there are people in this world who can’t stand the sight of my great big ugly face.

And it has nothing to do with the line of my nose or the cut of my cheekbones.

Listen, everyone’s got their reasons, so fine. Bad days, sob stories, motives, experiences, blah. I’m into it. I got it. That’s what MegaBeauts is about.

But all I’m saying is that you (I) should really think twice about what kind of shit you are going to stir. Think twice about what kind of human being you are going to be today. Because more than likely, you are acting out of fear, doubt, scarcity, and lack within yourself – and simply broadcasting it out onto the world with a vengeance. 

Yes, maybe you’re paying.

Yes, perhaps you’re entitled.

To a point. You are not an elite deity that can crush mankind because you’re running late and only have eight and a half minutes to hide those three lines in your forehead with filler and resume your enviable poise.

The Responsibility of Being a Customer

As the customer, you have the responsibility of being human.

As a human, you have the responsibility of being human.

Part of being beautiful is not being ugly.

Because your beauty is the experience you offer the world.

And ugly is a choice. Straight up.

So if you can’t be beautiful about it, find a way to CHANGE. 

A woman being a good customer 

Be a charmer

A woman dressed as a devil, being a bad customer
Not Satan

The Whole Point of Beauty

I went into the beauty biz because I love beauty. My own vanity aside, I genuinely believe (and maybe I’m lost in my own Utopia on this one) that taking care of yourself can make your a happier brighter, more confident, kick-ass entity.

If a little plum gloss and smooth legs pump you up, you will naturally sally forth and spread the love.

Marylin Monroe smiling with a beautiful mindsetMore of this, please

I had such an awful time of things with acne when I was growing up, that I wanted to connect with people in a genuine way so that something like angry red pustules and a pock marked complexion didn’t have to own their confidence the way it did mine for so many years.

A woman with lots of ugly acne

I love the anatomy, physiology, health, nutrition, and psychology that all come together to comprise what we esteem to be beautiful. It’s a fascinating warren, with endless rabbit holes branching off of it in every direction.

It’s the culmination of creativity, personal expression, political statement, and the extraordinary human experience. I want it in all its guises.

But this self centered, atomic trip wire of mindless negativism that manifests itself into ordinary, everyday dissatisfaction thrown at the heads of people that serve you has got to stop. 

Nothing is more ugly.

Because it has nothing to do with them. Not really. 

I mean it.

It is Your Responsibility to Get Your Shit Together and Have a Good Experience of Life

No one else’s. 

A woman with a party hat ooking worried about being uglyYes, I mean you

If lives are at stake, speak up. If there is blood and guts and actual injustice in the world, make your voice heard.

Otherwise, have a fucking sit down for five minutes. Calm your mind. Drink your tea. Count to a million. And realize that there really ain’t time enough for the bullshit.

If the black tarry soup of blame and disappointment is going to come out of your mouth, particularly if it is directed at another human being, you had better take a long, long look at yourself -Because having two sips less latte to enjoy today is not the problem here. 

Always check the mirror first before opening your gob; more often than not, it probably has nothing to do with the person who’s getting it in the neck and all all all about your own fears and failures in life. Want to give that shit up? Let me help you with that.

Thank you, and have a nice day.

Desperate for True Healing?

Book your FREE 15 minute appointment with my

LIFE SAVING Functional Medicine Practitioner Brie Wieselman today.**

You can also hop on over to get sexy, juicy, empowered healing and wellbeing from MegaBeauts

(FREE FREE FREE!)

**Brie is now my affiliate partner, so let her know who sent you and thank you for supporting us both.

Tell me. Has beauty made you a beast? Has the infinite world of lipstick brought you to your knees? Did the lady at the Clarins counter discriminate against you because you had gorgeous midnight chocolate skin?

 

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on. Let me get this straight: you’ve worked in a cosmetic clinic?

Yes.

But doesn’t that mean you’re a fraud and not practicing what you preach?

Sure, if you want to get nasty about it.

But I’d like to put this contradiction in terms to bed, if you don’t mind.

A banana tucked in bed

What is beauty, really?

Beauty is intrinsically linked to honesty; the deception of the disingenuous will always blow their own cover in the end.

Obviously, the definition of beauty extends well beyond our superficial ablutions (something I have a lot of time for, vanity being my favorite vice).

It’s who makes us feel beautiful.

It’s who helps us to help ourselves be better, open, honest versions of who we are.

Things and people and places that unlock the tiny, magical chambers of our hearts that so easily get sealed up and forgotten about.

I mean that.

It ain’t just lip service, ya’ll.

But, back to the accusation.

The Truth About Cosmetic Clinics

Yes, I spent 5 minutes working in a cosmetic clinic. And I hated it.

I love the beauty industry. Skin and products and health and science and creativity and personal expression and freedom and magic.

But every day I saw men and women coming in, desperate to become someone new. Someone they’re not. Trying to plump up their happiness with fillers and smooth over their problems with Botox.

Maybe you know someone like that.

Maybe it’s you. 

And, of course, when the needle didn’t provide the seismic shift they were after, it was inevitably a short coming of either myself or the clinic. The hostility!

I’ve never known such deep dissatisfaction, and I’ve never had the emotional baggage of the world dumped so unceremoniously at my feet, expecting a permanent fix now now now now now.

Whoa.

Honestly.

The energy of that place, those people. Toxic. Not one tiny bit beautiful. I had no idea beauty was surrounded by so much fear, self loathing, doubt, and shame. 

It’s a real blow, because I went to the trouble of training, and have all the enthusiasm in the world for this stuff, and yet, something was off. Off by miles and miles, in fact. Suddenly, being in the fully fledged cosmetic industry was distinctly hideous.

and old woman struggling with the psychological darkness of beauty and trying to use a serum to become young again

The Psychological Darkness of Beauty

Originally, when I set about pursuing this career path, I had a very idealistic mindset; I believed that if you pulled the trigger on something small, it would have the power to affect much greater change than the sum of it’s molecules, which could ultimately lead to more beautiful world all the way around.

You tidy up your bikini line, remove a mole or two, or gently lift an ageing jawline, and miraculously offer someone a fresh perspective and a shiny new bow of confidence to wear in their hair.

They in turn release the positive vibes, and the beat goes on. Sounds good, no?

Ha.

Turns out, the equation is much more complicated than all that. It’s a balancing act. Very tricky.

Removing Mrs. Hove’s mole is not just about a radiotherapy device rearranging skin cells into a more favorable configuration.

It’s about her husband and the way he looks at young Sylvia at the market. And the way Sylvia looks back at him.

When Alice the librarian decides to have full Hollywood laser hair removal, it’s not just because she’s a kick-ass feminist with intelligent political opinions, who believes women should be able to handle their bodies however they please; she’ll never forget how humiliated she was when she lost her virginity at 16 to that Steven who thought pubic hair was disgusting.

The tricky balance of beauty and the mind with a hippo balancing on the tip of red lip stick

So you see, really I needed to have gotten a degree in psychology before I got anywhere near this stuff.

Where the Mind Meets the Body

When someone came in asking to become Barbie, I never rubbished them. 

However.

It does makes me sad to think that people can’t just accept what they look like. That I can’t just accept what I look like. But deeper still, that the details we hold against ourselves are often just metaphors for far more sinister insecurities that a syringe is never going to touch.

Old stories.

Deep hurts.

Terrible secrets.  

Yet at the same time, I love the freedom and am fascinated by the process which brings people to seek physical changes.

I’m about as vain as they come, and certainly not above accepting a helping hand myself; I would never begrudge anyone whether they decide to go full throttle plastic or sun kissed hippie. I believe beauty is art, and firmly in the eye of the beholder.

So, the truth is, I’m a mess. I’m all over the shop and there’s no telling whether I like it or hate it or am confused or sad or tickled to pieces by all this beauty nonsense.

Creating a Beautiful Mindset

But, let’s get real kids. That’s what this is all about.

Most people want to improve the way they look, and my ethos is: life is short. Do it.

But DO NOT do it without asking yourself the hard questions first.

Are you running from something?

Hiding from something?

Is this a choice made out of fear and self loathing?

Can you back away and take an objective look at your motives? Can you honestly say you are making a decision from the right perspective? Do you have your beauty mindset in alignment?

Please, go forward with love and blessings. Your choices are sacred. Know yourself. I accept all.

But don’t get consumed by it.

Don’t expect it to change your pathological behaviors, make your blow up doll an actual living husband, or suddenly create time and space in a forever perfect continuum.

Beauty is full of psychological darkness, and we all have to explore ourselves deeply and honestly.

But if Botox is going to fill your balloon with a little happy helium, then fill away, my friend.

Balloon filled with happy helium

Finding That Balance

Our desire to be attractive is biological and makes a lot of sense.

I don’t think anyone should be punished for augmenting their looks, (although motives are an important factor to consider –Botox is jolly nice, but it’s not a marriage counsellor).

And I don’t think anyone should be vilified for keeping it natural, and just letting the wind blow where it may.

It’s all valid.

However, I’m over the artifice. Fuck off with the false pretenses and the over-indulgent selfies.

I’m over it.

If you’ve had a boob job, fine, but don’t pretend you were born with that much silicone in your body.

If you’ve had your lips plumped and your brows tattooed, fuck off trying to make everyone feel bad about theirs. You only reveal how insecure you really are, and that you wasted your money trying to convince yourself you were better than you feel. 

I’m 100% cool with anyone who wants to enhance their beauty in any way.

Just leave the bullshit at the door.

A squash pretending to have amazingly big boobs and haunted by the psychological darkness of beauty

Maintaining a Beautiful Mindset

Changing something about your appearance may be considered a confession of weakness.

Vanity.

Self delusion.

Lack of self confidence.

Maybe it is. And maybe your choices offend others.

Or threaten them, even.

There’s an awful lot of hate out there. 

But for me, it’s an opportunity to choose empowerment.

And that’s what I want from and for everyone.

Be honest.

Take control.

Stay honest.

Let’s create beauty for love. Let’s create a beautiful mindset that serves our highest purpose and those around us. 

That makes you feel good and is inclusive. 

Take back our brains because we smart mamas. Take back our bodies because we strong bitches. Take back our beauty because we own that shit. 

Super-natural or super-glam.

No shame.

Just be real about it.

Instead of approaching beauty with expectations for yourself and others, join me in choosing to sally up to it with a sense of curiosity.

Ready for True Healing?

Book your FREE 15 minute appointment with my

LIFE SAVING Functional Medicine Practitioner Brie Wieselman today.**

You can also hop on over to get sexy, juicy, empowered healing and wellbeing from MegaBeauts

(FREE FREE FREE!)

**Brie is now my affiliate partner, so let her know who sent you and thank you for supporting us both.

 

Tell me. Have you gone to lengths to change your bod into something that other’s see as unacceptable? Do you secretly want to be Dolly Parton? Have you had a procedure done that your partner doesn’t know about? Why? I want to know.