I really, really love my friends. Like, really. But they come with baggage and this baggage is in the form of their other friends. Life is not like the sitcom 'Friends' where you have one group of people and they are all actually friends. No, no. Life is like Primary School when you get jealous of the other kids your bestie is playing with and then you get roped into playing with them too even though you don't like them. The worst thing about friends of friends is that you have to pretend to like them even when you don't. You can't even openly hate them and bitch about them with your friend. Why? Because your friend doesn't want to bitch about them - they're friends with them!

It's not even that they have just one friend. They keep making fucking more of them. AND they keep feeling the need to introduce me to them. I don't want any more friends. Some people say: "The More the Merrier" but I say: "The Less the Merrier." No, we don't need to go to brunch with three people. Can't we just go with the two of us? 

I have a really good friend who goes on new friend binges. She meets someone and basically falls in love with them and spends all her time with them and raves about how great they are. I have to listen to all this until she gets sick of them and then I get her back again. But in the meantime, I have to hang out with this new friend too and it's annoying. So, so annoying.

Maybe I'm a jealous person. Maybe I'm fussy about who I spend time with. But, I have been on the other end of this situation. I have seen the sidelong glance of my new friend's old friend and felt the unease about her having to spend time with me when I know she doesn't want to. I know other people feel the same as me. It's just that we can't be honest because then it would offend all the friends of our friends that we don't like. And that just won't do.

So, the moral of the story is that I'm a bitch and I want my friends to have less friends so that I don't have to hang out with them. The End.

                                              xox Mariana

Spoiler Alert: Teenagers have sex. Well, most teenagers have sex. And the ones who aren’t having sex are spending a good wad of time thinking about it.

I had sex for the first time when I was 16. It was a disappointing experience made worse by the fact that I was very drunk and laying on a wobbly airbed. It was a blurry haze of nervous excitement and nausea.

Before that night I had thought about having sex almost constantly since the age of 12. I looked at boys like they were prey. The curve of their lips, the bulge of their biceps as the held the rail on the train.  

Once my friends started having sex I felt left out. Why couldn’t I have sex? Surely I could find someone to have sex with! Whenever I got the wishbone Sunday family dinner I would make the same wish. I’d close my eyes and pray to the Great Chicken God ‘Please let me lose my virginity, please!’ I was genuinely afraid that I would die a spinster.

This fact makes writing YA fiction a little tricky because for me, young adulthood = sex. If not having sex then thinking about having it. It’s very hard to imagine the inner workings of a teenager’s mind without including how they feel sexually. But alas, every time I try to include sex in a novel, I get told by assessors and potential publishers that sex in YA is a no-no.

But I’m not sure how that can be so, when every girl my age recalls reading Judy Bloom’s Forever, intimately.  The copy in my Intermediate school library was so dog-eared and well-loved the pages we’re almost worn through. It was almost always on-loan and on reserve. When I finally got my hands on it I was through in a few hours, emerging from my bedroom rosy-cheeked and enlightened.

Eileen Merriman has somehow managed to get her latest novel Catch Me When You Fall past the YA sex police, and we are lucky she has. Finally! A relatable work of YA fiction that is believable! Teenagers have sex! Surprise!

To be fair though Catch Me When You Fall isn’t just about sex. There’s a lot more going on but sex is definitely a valid part of it.

Alex is sitting in a hospital waiting room when she meets Jamie Orange. “Hey, snap,” he says as he points out that they are both reading the same book. As soon as Alex sets her eyes on him, she can tell there is something about this boy with the light blond hair and the Fox Glacier blue eyes. He’s not like anyone she’s ever met.

Having grown up in hospital undergoing chemotherapy to treat her leukaemia, Alex has been in remission for the last three years. That is until now.

On the very day she meets the vivacious, exciting Jamie is the same day Alex receives the worst new imaginable.

Alex doesn’t want to have leukaemia. Not again. She’s done that all before. She knows all the medical jargon and cancer speak. She knows far more about it all than any 17 year old should. Alex just wants to go to school and text this nice boy and do all the things that normal teenage girls do. But Alex isn’t a normal teenager. Not anymore.

But Alex soon learns that Jamie, with his boundless energy and late night/early morning texts, is not such a normal teenager either. Jamie has bipolar disorder, but as long as he takes his lithium he’ll be fine, he says.

Catch Me When You Fall is an accurate, heart aching story of what it’s like to experience teenage love. It’s beautiful and messy, and painful and fabulous.

Alex’s character is both stoic and strong but inwardly fragile and vulnerable. This time she’s experiencing cancer through the lens of a teenagers mind. She’s more aware this time about how it is affecting her family; her mother, father and younger sister. There’s the financial aspect, the fear in their eyes and the false bravado she can see right through. Alex’s stubborn determination to live her own life is both relatable and perfectly cliché.

Jamie is so well developed I swear I could feel him and smell him through the pages. He’s a believable portrayal of a teenage boy in love. A boy who at times is erratic and over the top and then dimmed and inward. But whatever mood he may be in he is still Jamie Orange.

The is author Eileen Merriman's second YA Novel. Her second to be published within six months of the first! Merriman is a doctor, and mother who also somehow manages to write amazing YA fiction. With sex in! 

It's amazing what us Mums can do! #teamjacinda.

Catch Me When You Fall - Eileen Merriman
Penguin Random House NZ
RRP $1999

This year Fashion Week was different. Or perhaps I was different. To be fair I was not quite right. After spending the weekend before Fashion Week working on not one but TWO films, I was struck with a brutal cold-slash-flu.

Was I Patient Zero of the Fashion Week Lurgy?

Truth is, perhaps I was Patient Zero of the Fashion Week Lurgy? After I turned up at the venue everyone seemed to be struck down with the same virus. Sweats. Running nose. Raspy throat. Yep. I know. These symptoms sounds like the after-effects of too much partying! I wish!

I blame the timing. Is it really wise to hold Fashion Week at the end of August? AKA the end of winter aaaaand right in the crux of Mercury Retrograde no less! I wonder how many people booked the wrong flights, misread their Airbnb info or lost footage due to technical difficulties!

The real issue was though that everyone seemed a bit tired. Like the winter had taken its toll on them and they’d really rather be napping.

Still there were shows and there was fashion. Fabulous fashion. Here’s a few of the highlights of NZFW!

​Andrea Moore 

Andrea Moore put on a fab show with amidst many rows of lights hanging from the ceiling. The show started with an awesome dance performance featuring some amazing lifts. This was reprised halfway through the show by a group of Social Media influencers modelling Moore’s active wear collection and performing a fitness routine to Beyonce’s Girls Run the World. The show was a great combo of wearable fashion and performance. The collection was gorgeous too. Elegant and feminine but still powerful. 

​ Rachel Mills
This show was an installation with living mannequins. They stood, sat and posed amongst various sets, showing off the new collection. This was a great idea. Everyone was able to make their way around the room and take decent photos of the stationary models without the need for a super-fast shutter speed. Great idea for plentiful social media posts! The lighting was gorgeous and the collection, made up of draped, figure flattering comfort wear in natural tones, was showcased well.

Stolen Girlfriends Club
This year’s Stolen Girlfriends Club show was, like other years, pretty cool. It was housed off sight again in a venue I cannot remember because wine. It was packed with people sipping away on Redbull and Rum and a “signature cocktail” also known as “let’s-make-up-a-drink-from-all-this-sponsored-free-shit”. I went with the latter and regretted my life choices the next day. When people asked me after the show if I liked the collection I didn’t know what to say because I hadn’t even seen the show. I’d been up on one of the platforms trying to see the show but instead talking to other short folk who also couldn’t see shit.

I watched someone’s live Instagram feed on my phone though so that was cool as. The collection was awesome! There was metallic and mesh, blazers and leather jackets. And there were boobs. I love me some fashion boobs!
​
Every year Stolen’s show fills me with so much nostalgia for the 90s that I want to go home and dig out my ‘Zero’ T-shirt and wear a petticoat over my jeans. But his isn’t just reminiscent of the 90s. It’s the 90s done better. 

Lela Jacobs

Lela Jacobs, as always, put on a brooding gothic spectacle off sight at the Silos. I love Lela’s dark dystopian vibe, and despite her collections not being something I would wear, I truly appreciate the tone of the collections and I adore the fabrics. I swear, every time I see one of her shows I immediately start penning a post-apocalyptic, dystopian novel in my head. And in it the characters are all dressed like this: Adorned with draping fabrics in muted tones of blue, grey and black with long trailing hair, faces partly shielded from the burnt-out, post-nuclear-war sun. Ooooph! Stop me!

That's my fave bits from Fashion Week 2017 - the year of the fashion plague. 

I can't wait to see your new collection at NZFW! What should we expect style wise?

Our show for this year’s NZFW – CARLSON, presented by Holden Astra –stands as a celebration of the history of CARLSON’s design ethos with each piece a one-off, handcrafted, unique design created from our archived fabric collections. 90s sportswear is juxtaposed with demi couture, while combining other elements of vintage western, chinoiserie and 60s eveningwear. Each one-off piece will be available for sale in our Ponsonby store. 
I love the muted tones of your current collection. What inspires your colour palette? 
​
As with all aspects of my design – from colour to shape, texture and fabrics – I draw my inspiration from a range of sources, from the creative industries and the natural world. Often my colour palette comes from experiences I have in the outdoors – the blues and greens of the ocean that I’m surfing in, or the mottled greys of a road I’m driving on in my Holden, or bronzes from the sunsets looking up from my store on Ponsonby Road.

​What made you chose a career in fashion?

I think I was born to make beautiful garments that fit. As a kid, I was always cutting up mum’s fabrics and trying to make things out of them. I learnt to sew properly when I was a teenager but I never followed the rules. I was always in trouble for not using patterns or turning up with a pattern of a kind made from newspaper. I understand women’s shapes and how to create garments that fit well and look great. This collection has allowed me a creative freedom that I usually only get when I am creating one-off garments and don’t need to consider the limitations posed by a garment going into production. I love to design clothing – whether it’s a summer dress or a demi-couture garment for a dancer. I can’t imagine ever doing anything else.

What advice would you give to someone considering a career in fashion?

You need to love it, to really love what you do. That gets you through the challenges of a hard retail environment and an industry that can be, at times, tumultuous. And get a hobby that will help you through the tough times at work. I surf and drive.

What three words best sums up the Carlson Style?

Authentic, effortless, loved.
​
Please finish this sentence: Fashion is...an extension of yourself. 

Browse the CARLSON shop here. 

Tarot is old news, crystal balls are passé and horoscopes are a dime a dozen! The next craze in fortune telling is Labia Reading: determining ones personality traits through the divine secrets of the labia.

It may seem odd but when you think about it, labia reading is no different from phrenology, palm reading or nipple reading. All that’s required is a simple guide, a hand mirror, and well, some labia. Usually your own. But hey! Whatever flicks your bean!

Labia Reading: Getting started

Rip off yo’ panties! Yep. Underwear are not invited to the party! Get ‘em off and be free! Next up your going to want to find yourself a mirror. A full length dress mirror could be helpful but it’s better to use a hand mirror. Sometimes our labia minora (inner lips) can be a tad shy. With a hand mirror they have nowhere to hide!
The preferred stance for labia reading is that of a cowboy – spread those legs and bend those knees a little. If you do indeed have as for mentioned shy labia, this stance should coax ‘em out just enough so we can see what we’re working with. Do I have to stand? Yes! We need to see how our labia naturally fall whilst standing. If we’re seated in super wide stance our labia feel more relaxed and behave differently and the reading will be less accurate.

What Do You See?
​
Take a moment to appreciate your labia in all her glory. What do you see? Are your labia symmetrical or asymmetrical? Do they extend from the labia majora (outer lips) willingly or do they prefer to hide? Find the qualities that most match your labia down below. 

Shy Labia– Stays Tucked Up Inside like a Scared Bunny

Come out come out little labia! Sometimes our labia just feels better staying tucked up safe and sound right up inside those labia majora. That’s cool. No big deal. In fact it says a lot about her master. Do you prefer to stay home snuggled up safe and sound around your loved ones? Mmm hmm. I get you. There’s nothing wrong with being a home bod at all! It’s not like you never socialise. You just prefer to do so from the comfort of your own (wonderfully tranquil) home where you can control the environment, conversation and snacks. Home is where the heart is and you’ve made yours a sanctuary for you, your family and those lucky enough to be invited into your humble abode.  Just be sure that you’re not missing out on awesome networking experiences due to your love for home and family! Or that you’re not using your sanctuary as a safe house from the big bad world. What are you trying to avoid?

Peek-a-boo Labia – Peeks Out From Above
​
The Peek-a-boo labia is a sneaky devil. She peeps out from her all seeing high view point, standing sentry to ensure there is no danger awaiting outside. You tend to keep people at arm’s length, requiring a long courting period before you allow people in to your inner circle of friends/family. But once they’re in, they’re in. It’s a blood oath. You don’t do acquaintances and you do not do small talk. Perhaps you’ve been burned in the past? Or in a past life? Either way, you’ve sworn never to be outfoxed again. You are super cautious to a fault. Ain’t no one gonna cross you! Remember though, a friend is the best gift you can give yourself! Don’t force yourself to miss out on the joy close friendships can bring. 

The Tiny Teaser – Just a Little
​
She’s a little bit of a flirt this one. She shakes her hanky out just far enough to attract the sailors with her siren song. You’re a sly one you are. You’re comfortable is social situations but you don’t hog the microphone. You say more with your eyes than with words. You know just what to do to get their attention and once you have it 100 percent, that’s when you start to open up and lure them in further. But once you’ve got them hooked the allure is kinda gone. Oh well! Plenty more fish in the sea! Word of warning: Due to your cool and quiet nature, you may have been dubbed a “bitch.” This is simply because you don’t chatter away nonstop or grin like an idiot. A smile now and then will do wonders for your reputation!

The Out and About Labia

Wo’wo’wow she’s a lady! She sassy and she’s proud. This lady’s got things to do and places to go. She’s awesome and she knows it! You’re a confident woman who knows what she wants and you are not afraid to go after it! You’ve got goals out the wazoo and every day you get one step closer to crossing them off your list of achievements! Just remember there’s more to life than ‘getting things done’. There’s family and there’s down time. You may see days off as waste of time but remember a little rest goes a long way!

Labia Symmetry
Now that we’ve covered the basic traits that your labia indicate, let’s have a look at how your brain works. Grab that mirror and get even closer! We’re tugging those ladies out gals!

Getting Started
Pull your labia out straight. Are they the same length?

Left Side Longer
So, your left labia is an over achiever! She’s grown a little longer than her right sided twin. This means you predominantly use the right side of your brain – the creative side. I know what you’re thinking – I said my left was longer not the right! I know. The right side of the brain controls the left side of the body, hence helping yo’ lady bits grow longer on the left. Right brain dominant women tend to be creative, imaginative, intuitive and emotional. They consider the emotional side of a situation – empathising with everyone involved – before making a decision. They don’t use cold, hard logic to sway their choices.
Jobs: Healthcare (more the care part), teaching, the arts, wellness, social work, fitness.

Right Side Longer
If your right fanny flap is a bigger than your left, you are left brain dominant. This means you tend to research for all of the facts before making a calculated decision based on logic. If you were buying a winter coat, you’re more likely to think about longevity, the costs to the environment, and the quality of the fabric over say the colour of the buttons or whether it was worn by a Kardashian in the latest issue of Vogue.
Jobs: Medicine, law, business, science, finance, journalism (business/stock market writing) and IT.

Symmetrical Labia
Congratulations! This means you use both sides of your brain equally – the logical side and the creative side. You are balanced A F. You use both logic and emotion to make your decisions. You can empathise with people who are upset but you can also see the facts of the situation. So when your bestie comes to you crying because she “accidentally spent $500 on pair of shoes she can’t walk in” you offer support but can also offer logical words of advice to help her reassess her ways.
Jobs: Symmetrical women can take their pick of jobs – they use both sides of the brain so can excel in either logical or creative roles. Though, if they chose a logical profession it will have to have some room for them to express their creativity and vice versa. 

Extras Bits
If while perving at your labia you’ve noticed some other interesting qualities, you could have some extra super powers!

Wiggly Edges
If your labia appears to have wiggly edges this is the sign of psychic abilities! That’s right. You are more intuitive than you think! To enhance your intuition, try meditating with a hand resting of your gooch. This will help recharge your root chakra and get those psychic juices flowing again!

Dark Edges
If you’ve notices that your labia has darker edges than the pink inner skin, this means you are a natural healer. You have the gift of the light worker. Perhaps you’ve already been drawn to things that allow you to practice your gift? Massage, reiki, reflexology, acupuncture? When it comes to the healing arts you are a natural!

Folds
If you’re checking out your beaver and perplexed at just how expertly she folds in on herself, like an origami masterpiece, well, you are what we call an old soul. You and your vagina have lived many times over, each fold representing a life you’ve lived in the past. You have knowledge in your labia. Call upon it whenever you are in a bind and she will speak years of wisdom into your ears.
​
So there you have it! You labia is a magical beacon of light! A shining window into your soul! Love her, honour her and treat her right. 

Labia example images c/o thesun.co.uk

You know those times when you are sure you saved the files off your camera before you deleted them? Only to completely lose hours of footage? Yeah, well that's what happened to me! Or I thought it did. That was until yesterday when I started going through old files in the lead up to Fashion Week 2017, only to discover...last year's vlog footage!

I (almost) forgot what an awesome time we had last year but when I re-watched all the mayhem I remembered just how much freaking fun Mariana and I have when we get away. 

Sadly (sniff) Mariana will not be joining me this year. The poor thing has to go to a fancy stage show and Fiji during the same week. I know. How will she manage. 

The good news is I am heading up to report the new looks in fashion for both The Madisons and Full Time Unicorn! I am sooo excited! I might even get another tattoo....

I’ve always loved me an anti-heroine. When I was a kid reading sweet valley high, I was always team Jessica. When I watched Jem and the Holograms, I was always quietly rooting for Pizzaz and the Misfits to kick Jem’s ass.

As I got older I fell in love with Courtney Love and Hole and scoffed at the girls who wore chunky sneakers and sang Spice up Your Life. I wrote Riot Grrrl across a ripped white t-shirt and wore Doc boots instead of heels. I was a bad girl. Or a badgirl wannabe. I was never a real bad girl like Alvina Knightly in Chloe Esposito’s new novel, Mad. Despite my best efforts I was conditioned by society (and my mother) to care about people. I could dress like I gave no fucks but secretly I gave them all.

I cared if old people thought I was rude or disrespectful. I cared if my teachers thought I was unmotivated or lacklustre. I cared if people thought I was weird. In fact I cared so much that dressing like I didn’t care was my way of saying “fuck y’all!” before anyone had had a chance to tease me.

Being a highly sensitive empath meant that hurting people’s feelings was a travesty. As much as I hated having my own feelings hurt, inconveniencing others, or saying something to offend them, made me DIE with guilt. I would wallow over conversations fretting that I had somehow offended someone and debating whether or not to apologise. I always wished I could care less and be a real bad girl who tore through life, face forward, eye on the prize. I secretly wanted to be Alvina Knightly and I hadn’t even met her yet.

Alvina Knightly is not a nice girl. But she doesn’t give a shit. She’s the girl all of us are sometimes, even if only in our heads. The girl with a mean inner monologue, impatient with people who dawdle in front of them, blocking the sidewalk. The girl who sees someone fall over on the street and thinks, oh fuck, I suppose I should help them up, but then doesn’t. The girl who scoffs at bad drivers and sniggers at overweight people gutsing a mac attack at the food court. The girl who rolls her eyes at the sound of crying children, muttering under her breath “shut the fuck up kid”.

She’s me when I have PMS and want to tell everyone to piss the fuck off. She’s me during ovulation when I want to mount every hot young man I see; smiling at them while I imagine suctioning my groin to their faces, like a catfish.

 Just like in Sweet Valley High, Alvina is a twin. She is the bad twin. Her sister Beth is the Elisabeth to her Jessica. The Mother Theresa to her Courtney Love.

Despite Alvina being completely and utterly unlikeable, you can’t help but love her. She’s a heartless bitch. She’s selfish and self-absorbed, but she’s hilarious. And she’s not all bad. She does have feelings. For instance she truly loves her 10 inch dildo Mr Dick and when her twin sister asks her to come and visit her in Italy, stay in her palatial home and spend time with her Adonis of a husband and perfect baby boy, she doesn’t want to but she goes anyway. She’s not a total bitch; and of course she’s just lost her job and been chucked out of her flat, so why not right?

Though things as not as perfect as they seem in Taormina, Italy. For instance, who is the strange dark suited man who hovers around Beth’s husband, casually packing heat? And why is the subject of what’s Beth’s husband does for a living so strictly off limits? Meh! Alvina doesn’t care. Not when Beth’s busy buying her new outfits and letting her live in the lap of luxury asking for nothing in return.

For now.

Alvina’s about to learn that no one ever gives anything away for free. Not even perfect, supposedly “good” people like her sister Beth. And despite Alvina’s heartless nature, we learn that she wasn’t necessarily born bad. Who we’re made to believe we are is often the person we become.

Mad is the book first in a trilogy, preluding Bad and Dangerous to Know. It is a rollicking read, a slap in the face, an orgasm. Quick, fiery and lusty.

If you’ve ever wanted to ride a long side a bad girl, see how they live, think and breathe, Alvina’s your gal. But be warned: she takes no prisoners and gives absolutely zero fucks.

P.S: I am excited to announce that my new website Full Time Unicorn is now live! So if you're interested in living your life as a spiritual unicorn come check it out! 

To say I was not a sporty child is gross understatement. I despised sport. I detested running. I abhorred balls sports. The sound of a ball being kicked into the air still fills me with dread; where will it land? It’s going to hit me in the face! Run! Duck for cover!

I was an artistic kid and an only child. I would spend hours alone painting, singing, writing stories and playing dress-ups with my dog. I was never bored in my own company and never lonely. Not once in all my years of playing by myself did I feel the urge to go for a jog or rip out a sprint. My heart was just not drawn in that direction.

To my misfortune I was not a skinny child. There are kids who are skinny and kids who are not and oftentimes, kids from both camps can be non-sporty. The problem is that the non-sporty, naturally skinny kids do not get singled out and told “Hmmm, you’re chubby, you should really go for a run around the field!” The naturally skinny kids get a free pass. They get to own their non-sportiness and get on with the shit they actually enjoy; whatever that may be. In their stratosphere, they are not made to feel guilty for not having the urge to go for bike ride. They are not made to feel unhealthy because they would rather read a book.

For years I made myself exercise because I felt bad for not wanting to. I tried to force myself into playing team sports and even tried to tell myself I enjoyed it. I didn’t. Team sports amongst teenage girls are cruel and vicious. If you missed a goal or dropped the ball, you had a whole team of people to rip you down over it.

I was taught early on that being not-skinny was not good enough, so it’s little wonder I had issues with my weight.  By my late teens I was eating very little and forcing myself to endure hours of exercise each day. All in a bid to achieve some kind of correctness. I’d wake each morning dreading all of the exercise I would have to do. A walk, a yoga class, another walk then a swim. But is it enough? I’d wonder. When will it ever be enough? I spiralled into an anxious depression that emanated from a sense that I was not good enough.

It wasn’t until after I had children that I finally made peace with my body and soothed my relationship with exercise. Ironically, my body was far from the taut teenage figure I had deemed not good enough. I was puffy and stretchy but finally, I loved all of me. This not-skinny body had birthed two beautiful boys! It had fed them and nourished them and snuggled them when they were sad. My magical body looked nothing like the genetic 1% we see in the media but I didn’t care.

Slowly I started to exercise again. Not to reach a goal. Not to be something different than what I was. But to honour the body I had. I loved this vessel of mine, so now I needed to keep it healthy and treat it well.

​I learned that to feel good in my mind, body and spirit I need to exercise. It is a must. Humans are made to move. Exercise is proven to reduce stress, improve sleep quality, boost mood and energy levels, assist in the treatment of depression, improve memory, treat hormonal surges (PMS and ovulation anger). It also helps to reduce our likelihood of developing diabetes, cardiovascular disease, high blood pressure and osteoporosis. If you suffer from any of these ills but out of laziness or stubbornness you don’t exercise, it may be time to call yourself out on your BS and give it a whirl!

So how do you force yourself to exercise when you don’t like gyms or you can’t stand the thought of jogging? The trick is not to force yourself at all. Find something you like doing and do it.

I love swimming. I love the feel of my body gliding through the water. I love the silence in my ears and the sound of my breath bubbling out of my nose underwater. I swim because it’s fun and calming. I like to lift weights; it makes me feel strong in my body. I like to do yoga; it calms my mind and stretches my muscles. I like walking in a sunny day or riding my bright yellow bike with my kids. I like running after geese and jumping waves at the beach. Some people like dancing, some people like kung-fu, others like table tennis and spin classes and burlesque and pole dancing. Do what you love. Do something fun! It doesn’t have to be about a goal. It can be about the moment. Use exercise as a mindfulness practice. Slow your mind and feel your body.

Despite finding something you like doing, there are always going to be days that you don't feel like  doing it. And sometimes there are valid reasons for this - heavily menstruating, exhausted, unwell etc. But there are also times where we don't know what's good for us. The trick is to learn the difference between being really not up to it and when you're self sabotaging. Yes! Our inner voice may tell us we're better off watching bravo and eating chips than exercising, but it's lying! Usually it's when we just 'can't be fucked' that we need to exercise the most!
​
Exercise is a necessary evil. It must be done if you want to live a good happy life. If you get down in the dumps, feel flat and blah, get bad PMS and don’t sleep well, you NEED to exercise. Just do it.