Oh, and have no fear, I'm not about to become obsessed with this sort of thing, you're just here to keep me honest.

But enough of that nonsense. What the hell monkey-crack are fashion designers smoking these days?

I know, we ALL have problems finding clothes that are comfy and cool. Even one of my friends, who I would consider under-weight, has problems. But how many of you have walked into a store, one that only stocks its own label, and found that you fit into four different sizes of their clothes?

That's right, FOUR!

I was in FatChicks'R'Us[tm] (there is no way I can get my butt into a pair of pants from a regular store). I grabbed a pair of cute, camel, 3/4 length pants. I'm usually about an Australian size 18 (that's a 14 for all you 'Merkin's out there). So I grabbed them in my size and tried them on.

And resembled nothing more than a zeppelin stuffed into a condom.

Sigh.

I asked for something bigger.

Eeep! Next...

Finally, they fitted, the crotch wasn't hanging around my knees and, miracle of all miracles, the waist fitted. You see, I'm shaped like an hourglass. In fact, not so long ago, I had a genuine hourglass figure. That's right, hips and bust the same measurement, waist 10-11 inches smaller. The perfect hourglass. So usually, by the time I find something big enough for my bum, I can rent room out to a small family in the waistband. But no, these pants fitted and they looked pretty good. Even if they were gargantuan.

So I wanted to try on some other pants. Black ones this time. Same length, but with cute little splits in the back over the ankle. I asked for the same size as the camel pants.

And they puddled around my feet as soon as I buttoned them up.

WTF?

Going down...

I asked for a size 18.

Still too big?

Excuse moi?

A size 16 (US 12).

Perfect.

Huh?

There's something odd going on here...

Black and white patterned skirt. Would look fabulous with my existing wardrobe. "What size would you like it in, miss?"

Ummm, 18?

Sure enough, fitted like a dream.

Riiiiiiight... OK, let's try the black lace skirt over there...

18? Nope, too hot.

22? No, too cold.

20? Just right.

So there you have it. One pair of size 16 pants, one size 18 skirt, one size 20 skirt and one pair of size 22 pants.

So what size am I?

I'm Pokemon sized, gotta try them all!

How to explain this current incarnation? The curators found an old hardware shop. The sort of shop where you suspect the owner is not in the slightest bit interested in selling anything. The store is merely an extension of his own back shed.

It's filled with strange cabinets of odd things, switches, knobs, fasteners, 1920s condom makers (I kid you not--DIY condoms, just add latex) and a plethora of things for which I'm sure there is no use. The curators took this and added their own touches, creating strange contexts and wonderful juxtapositions like 'The Lifecycle of a Tennis Ball.' From bright green fuzz to well chewed ruin.

In addition to what they did with the existing materials, they let the audience contribute oddities of their own. They encourage users to add to the 'Directory of Nicknames' or the 'Museum of Collected Longing.' You can create your own exhibit with the flotsam you carry in your own pocket. I created a piece called 'Recipe for a spell to capture a heart' made up of a rose-covered postage stamp, an earring and a lock of my own hair.

You can even take other exhibits in exchange for one of your own.

If you get the chance to visit one of these things, go do it. In the meantime, you can experience some of what I saw here.

Enjoy!

It's all about choices. Choosing your attitude. Choosing your battles.

It's all about accepting what you can't change and letting go of it. And taking what you can change and doing something about it.

I always arrive at this point someway, somehow. I need to play the victim role first, get the sympathetic hugs and then I move on.

Right now, my life is full of things I can't change. I can rail against the heavens until I turn blue in the face, it's not going to help. So I need to turn my back on those things and grab hold of what I can change and shake the stuffing out of it.

Half the battle is recognising what you can change. Especially when you are surrounded by things you desperately want to change but can't. Sometimes the recognition comes at strange times. I was responding to one of The Duchess' blogs about belly dancing, rhapsodising about how much I love it and how much fun it is. Then it occurred to me... when was the last time I danced?

How can I be happy if I'm not doing the things that I love? There is nothing stopping me doing it. I'm not injured, classes are available in my area. Why on earth am I not dancing?

In a similar vein, it has been a long, long while since I have done regular exercise.

And it shows.

I don't profess to love exercising, but I know how good it makes me feel. How good my body feels when it is flexible and strong. How good I feel emotionally with endorphins pumping through my system.

What on god's green earth is stopping me from doing that?

I had another shocking realisation recently. I went to Weight Watchers some time ago to teach myself how to eat. That may sound really strange but, due to a childhood well beyond my control, food stopped being a source of nutrition and became something else entirely.

I walked out of a particularly ugly client meeting two weeks ago and thought to myself, "Good girl. Now you can have a chocolate chip cookie."

I had slipped back into old habits. Old habits that MUST change.

I made a step in the right direction last night.

Red is the colour for danger. It's an alert, a warning. Stop! Danger! Go Away! In nature it means, "Back off, sunshine, I'm poisonous. I'm going to kill you."

I have a jacket in my closet. It's cut like a hunting jacket and has black velvet buttons and a black velvet collar. It is scarlet. Red, red, red, red, red. SERIOUSLY red. It's called my "Don't Fuck With Me" jacket. I wear it to client meetings when I need to maintain control. When I want to say, "Don't you mess with me. You're going to come off second best."

Guess what colour my hair became last night. [grin]

There are other things I will be working on over the coming weeks. The things I can control. Things I can change.

And it's about bloody time too.

Something tugged at her subconscious. Something wasn't right. She squinted into the sunlight again.

She could see it more clearly now. It was closer.

It shouldn't be that close.

No, she was being ridiculous. It couldn't possibly be flying that low. It was a trick of the light. Or her eyes needed testing again.

She shook her head and tried to focus.

It was heading right for her.

She could measure the distance between them in heartbeats.

There was nowhere for her to go.

It was unmistakable now. She could see the wingspan. She could even see the tiny adjustments it made to its trajectory as it flew towards her.

There was nothing to do but brace for impact and pray beyond all reasoning that death would not be the result.

She watched, mesmerised as it sped towards her.

It dipped its wings briefly and cannoned into her.

There was a breathless moment.

And a sigh of relief as the butterfly fluttered drunkenly up from her chest and flew over her shoulder into the spring sunlight.

True story. Happened to me walking to work a couple of days ago. What would you have thought of it had I written in a couple of months ago?

VeryModern's blog has cleared some of the haze for me. This isn't just happening to me. It's happening all over the world to varying degrees. But this is my blog, so it's my perspective on it.

I love my job. What I do isn't brain surgery. I'm not saving the world. But I love doing the voodoo that I do so well.

I have been working for the same company for seven years. I love the owners dearly and their vision for the business speaks to me personally.

Recently, the company was sold to a global consortium.

Fair enough, I thought. The owners have been putting in their blood, sweat and tears for ten years. It was time for them to take from the business and kick back with the profits. They were still managing the business, it's just they had a boss to report to now. Procedures got tightened a little, but nothing much changed.

Then we moved offices.

It had to happen. We had run out of room. We were sharing phones and network connections in the old office. And we had so much work on that we needed more bodies to do it. The new office is better than the old one. Sure, the culture changed some, but nothing much.

As a consequence, new people started. The people changed the tone of the office. But change is not a bad thing. They brought new skills and new attitudes. We needed those fresh perspectives.

This all happened while people in this industry were retrenched all around me, while companies that do this sort of work collapsed. People who I used to work with who have struck out on their own have lost their jobs in the current market uncertainty.

In addition to this, I've had to move house and I've had to do a lot of travel.

I've been able to make the best of both (find a lovely new place, take advantage of the travel to relax and visit family and friends), but when you don't have a choice in the matter it is very unsettling, especially moving.

It's meant that my finances have been crap almost all year.

On top of all of this, like everyone else, I've been experiencing the fear, horror and uncertainly caused by recent events around the world. The loss of innocence, the effect on business, the fear of war. Businesses have been folding like origami in Australia recently.

But the straw that broke the camel's back was placed last Wednesday. The two people who have guided me in my career, who have given me so many chances to try new things and explore new avenues announced that they were leaving the company and moving overseas.

I can't begrudge them that. It has always been their plan to leave. It just never felt as though it was going to happen. And it hurts very badly. I feel almost betrayed by them.

Last Wednesday night I found myself in a torrent of tears. It was as if everything that 2001 had thrown at me collapsed in all at once like an imploding star. I wept like I haven't done in years.

I'm a Taurus. 2001 has attacked me on every front that I hold dear. My job, my home, my finances and my security. It's left me in somewhat of a spin.

I know I have things sweet. I have my health and people who love and stand by me. I'm not in immediate danger, I'm just out of my comfort zone. I just need a pat on the head and someone to tell me it's all going to be OK. Just while I can't see straight.

I'm just wallowing in some self-pity before I pull it all together.

Thanks for letting me vent. Excuse my self-indulgence. I'll return to my scheduled programming as soon as possible.