The day was hectic, but no more hectic than other days like this. It was the end of reporting / meetings / accounts season and I was stretched out, performing a variety of roles.

I knew I wasn't getting a lunch break today. This often happened once every few months or so. As a kind of consolation prize, the boss gets lunch.

The thing is, my boss and I are the only ones in the office. My boss knows from countless previous experiences that I hate, not dislike, but hate the food from across the street. The thought of it makes me gag and the last few times my boss ordered from there, I could barely eat any of it and felt sick afterwards. My boss knew this well and had promised not to order from that gunge hole again.

Let's get one thing clear. I'm not a fussy eater. In fact, people complain about how skinny I am and how I can eat pretty much anything. And I pretty much do eat anything, within reason. But the food from this particular place is truly, truly hideous. Disgusting. Barely edible.

So my boss says, "Hey, I know you hate the food from that place but I'm going to order from there anyway."

I was stunned unto silence, mulling the words over in my head. "I know you hate the food...but I'm going to order from there anyway."

My boss also knows that not twenty-five paces from this hell hole is the best, freshest, most awesome food in the suburb. Same price, but edible. My boss also knows that I love that place more than any other restaurant in the street.

"I know you hate the food from that place but I'm going to order from there anyway."

The strange thing was, my boss just kept staring at me, almost challenging me, as if I was obliged to change my mind about how gross the food was and how I felt about it. I wasn't sure how to respond. There was nothing I could have said that I hadn't already said countless times before.

So I'm starving. I couldn't leave and I had no other option. I open the container and there it is: a huge mound of bloated, overcooked brown rice, some gross pieces of Fried Chicken and a slimy, wilted splat of salad in the corner.

I look at the Fried Chicken and the chicken looks at me.

It all became clear in that moment, as if the truth had been there the whole time.

I am that piece of chicken, and that piece of chicken is me.

That's what my boss thinks of me.

That's what my boss thinks I'm worth.

"I know you hate the food...but I'm going to order from there anyway."

It's a metaphor. It reaches out, permeating my salary reviews, highlighting the fact that my boss still gets my name wrong enough to be insulting, even though I'm the only other person there, even though I've stopped trying to correct every instance because there's no point.

It's the reason I'm forced to squeeze in a full week's work into a few days on a salary that my boss knows is not sustainable for my well-being. It's the reason why my awesome achievements (and they truly are awesome) are downplayed or downright ignored.

"I am that fried chicken, and that fried chicken is me."

It's the reason I do much of my boss's work, at a fraction of the pay.

I am that fried chicken, and that fried chicken is me.

I wondered where my self-respect had gone. Perhaps it was nestled in that rice, waiting to be liberated.

And that was it. My watershed moment.

I don't want to be that goddamned chicken.

So I ate it, grimacing at every bite because I wanted to remember that moment. I wanted to sear into my memory the last time I let anyone make me feel devalued like this.

That was the moment I decided to leave. The moment I vowed to create something better where my value depends on my ideas and my performance, not some overseer's opinion. The moment I decided that I'm worth more than this, and to accept anything less would be to give in to that notion that what I want means nothing.

It was the moment I decided that no matter what happens, from this day forward, I will never be that piece of fried chicken again.

Aintree’s Ladies Day is a huge event on the UK racing calendar and a showcase for some rather outlandish fashions. Perhaps the fact that there is no dress code opens the field (as they say) to more diverse outfits.

Being from Melbourne, I am no stranger to horse racing or having a bet. Most of the time I go by the name of the horse. Sometimes I even win! Some people have their own system when it comes to picking a winner. It can be the colour of the silks or the look of the horse in general. Perhaps you are one of those people who know the name of the jockey or trainer, the history of the horse including the bloodline and what it had for breakfast. Like I said, I go by the name.

To avoid dignity blowout (see my post: 5 mistakes of racing fashion), here are some of my pointers for making a bold but dignified fashion statement at the races:

1. Dresses and skirts – I recommend a hemline just above the knee. Stylish, not too long or too short. Bold is good, but go basic black or neutral on the top to balance it out.
2. Footwear – A good stiletto can add to an outfit, but there is a lot of walking involved on race days: lining up for your lucky bookie, hobbling off to the viewing area and walking over grassy hills to find a nice vantage point. Of course, if the bookie queue gets too long, you can always use your phone to access online betting sites and avoid the rush! Either way, by the end of all this, you’ll be glad you wore flats or at least used some gel inserts!
3. Fascinators are indeed fascinating. A skillful milliner can help you make a show stopping statement, so choose wisely. If you have the kind of gregarious personality that can pull off the Eiffel Tower look, wear it! And wear it well.
4. Fake tan – On white skin, more often than not, fake tan tends to come out orange. If you have pale white skin, you may think it is better to be orange than to be white. Not so. It’s much easier (and more natural) to cultivate the ‘pale and interesting’ look rather than looking like an extra from a Willy Wonka movie!

Whatever you do, remember to be comfortable, stylish, and have a fabulous time!

I just finished listening to a podcast by The Minimalists and found it hugely inspiring (and relaxing as well!) I have been interested in minimalism for many years now and to me, it's more of a mindset rather than an aesthetic choice.

For example, in the past year, I have bought very little in the way of "stuff". Sure, a lot of that has to do with conserving funds, but another part of it is the need to focus on who I am and what I'm doing.

Clothing-wise, my purchases have included two pairs of shoes. That's it. Much of my wardrobe has been rediscovered since I decided to throw out my unnecessary stuff. I consider the unnecessary stuff to be clothing I have never worn, clothing I have worn once and clothing that I will never wear (which usually includes items I haven't even looked at for two months or more). When I got rid of all the junk, I found six of my best t-shirts just languishing at the back of my wardrobe. Now they are back in circulation, along with my one main pair of jeans. For more info on my wardrobe adventures, check out 9 Items to Build Your Capsule Wardrobe.

So far, my minimalist goals are coming along nicely. This is the main thing that has worked for me but feel free to modify as you see fit.

Throw Out Five Things Every Single Day 

This is the most useful thing I have done in moving towards minimalism. Most days I manage to throw out between three and five items. They can be anything, I don't set any rules. Things I have thrown out include: socks, items of clothing with holes in them, old packets of tea (from 2006!), old makeup (you should replace mascara and other makeup items every two months to keep things hygienic), old bills (shredded), junk mail and various other stuff.

The fun thing about this is finding a few things to throw out every day. It's manageable and doesn't cause undue stress. Some people throw out one thing a day, others try for more - it's up to you which way you want to go with this. The thing to remember is that you are getting rid of a few things every day - that's the focus.

Things That Went Well

I immediately felt lighter after dropping off a load of good quality, name brand stuff to a charity store. I knew the stuff that didn't suit me was no longer cluttering up my wardrobe and that someone else would benefit from finding a new item of clothing to make them feel good.

I have less things to wash up in the kitchen. All the stuff I use infrequently is stored away and the only things that are left out are the things that I use all the time. A couple of glasses, mugs, minimal cutlery and a few storage containers. There is a lot more space on my bench to do useful things like... cooking stuff.

I got rid of a lot of dust, along with the junk. Dust counts as a thing, right?

Things That Didn't Go So Well

I tried to think of a more positive, empowering way to put this. I've got nothing so I'm going with it. Starting to become more of a minimalist is not without stress. I made the mistake of tackling too much at once so you can learn from this.

My thought process went something like this:

Okay, got to get rid of the rubbish and empty the coffee plunger.
*internal monologue as I'm doing this task*
What about the bathroom floor? It needs a mop. By the way, the mop is busted. You need a new mop. But that's buying new stuff. Maybe use one of those microfibre cloths.

Right, just got to hand wash these t-shirts and hang them up
What's the point? You can't put them back in your wardrobe. It's dusty in there. You'll be sneezing all day. You have to clean out the whole wardrobe and vacuum it and...

I'll just wash out the water filter
Stuff! Books. Get rid of books. Can you sell them on eBay? What about other sites? Oh, but hang on, what about postage. You need to make a profit otherwise there's no point. But what books should be culled? Oh, and they're dusty as well...

You can see how this kind of thinking can quickly lead to overwhelm and the feeling of just wanting to give up. I had to take a break, lie on the couch and decide to do nothing but listen to a few podcasts and stop cleaning for a bit. It helped. Now I understand that you can't do everything at once, and thinking that you can is counterproductive.

What I have taken away from this is to do ONE thing at a time. If that thing is getting rid of five things, I count that as one thing. If that thing is clearing off the kitchen table, then do ONLY that. One thing at a time is the key here. Keep it manageable.

Minimalism is not a Religion

A lot of people seem to get caught up in the "rules" of minimalism. For example:

If you own more than 300 things, you're not a minimalist

If you have an internet connection and a TV, you're not a minimalist

If you don't have an all-white room with two pieces of furniture and a succulent plant, you're not a minimalist

You get the picture. The thing is, Minimalism is not a religion. You don't go to maximalist hell if you only pick the things that work for you. For example, you might be a visual artist, a musician or a fashion designer. Is it a good idea to get rid of all your paints, paintbrushes, instruments, sheet music and fabrics?

It's pretty clear the answer is an emphatic NO.

Minimalism is a tool, not a bizarre ideal or some kind of judgemental monkhood. Minimalism is what you make of it, and you can take the basic concepts and fit it to suit your particular lifestyle.

And anyway, I'm allergic to all-white, polished chrome, veterinarian table chic.

Just call me the Scruffy Minimalist, I guess.