Young Blood Social

Tully Smyth is a TV personality & writer. These are her thoughts. (function(i,s,o,g,r,a,m){i['GoogleAnalyticsObject']=r;i[r]=i[r]||function(){ (i[r].q=i[r].q||[]).push(arguments)},i[r].l=1*new Date();a=s.createElement(o), m=s.getElementsByTagName(o)[0];a.async=1;a.src=g;m.parentNode.insertBefore(a,m) })(window,document,'script','//www.google-analytics.com/analytics.js','ga'); ga('create', 'UA-64987208-1', 'auto'); ga('send', 'pageview');

[youngbloodsocial]

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[youngbloodsocial]

Enough

Two nights ago, whilst partaking in my usual night time activity of sharing my every waking thought with my Twitter followers (eg. “Also, can @kanyewest stop shouting at me? My Twitter feed is full of his capital letters.”) I came across something far more disturbing that Kanye.

A Tweet from the lovely Sam Frost.

“To the fake accounts heavily trolling me online & into my personal life. If you wanted to break me.. Congratulations you have won. #broken ”

Alarms bells went off in my head almost immediately.

You see, Sam’s Tweet was scarily similar to Charlotte Dawson’s Tweets in the time leading up to her death back in 2014. Charlotte was always very vocal about her struggles with mental health however it was no secret that she was also a long-time sufferer of cyber bullying…eventually finding it all too much to bare.

I was more than a little concerned. I felt sick. 

After reaching out to Sam, both publicly and privately, I went to bed with a heavy heart.

When will this bullshit end?

I replayed Sam’s Tweet in my head. “Broken”. I know the feeling.

In fact I myself was upset only the night before after stumbling across some particularly cruel comments written about me on the Daily Mail.

For those who believe I might be crying wolf, allow me to give you just a small insight to the kinds of comments and messages I receive on a daily basis:

On an article about me being clucky, featuring a photo of me cuddling one of my friend’s new born babies: “Thank God no one is desperate enough to have a baby with her. And I'm thinking solely of the welfare of the child.”

On an article about me spending time with a male friend, who also happened to be on a reality TV show: “She is a cum-guzzling attention seeking degenerate.”

Sent to my blog message inbox: “You should probably go top yourself now. You’re going to die alone anyway. You do my fucking head in, I can’t stand you. Please shut up.”

And finally, one of my favourites, left on an Instagram photo of me and my ex-boyfriend enjoying a road trip: “I hope you both crash the car and die.”

Now I’m almost used to this kind of dribble. 3 years on from Big Brother and I’d like to think that I’d grown thicker skin…or developed some kind of invisible protective barrier. 

I’d like to think that...

But what really hurts, what really makes these kinds of comments penetrate through that barrier and infiltrate your brain, poisoning your self-confidence are those comments that play on your self-doubt. The ones that touch on something you already think or worry about, deep down inside. Those insecurities that you have because fuck, you’re only human.

They are the ones that are stick, the ones that make your heart hurt. The ones that put a lump in your throat that just won’t budge. The ones that make you feel like you just want to stay home, under the covers where it’s safe and you can’t accidentally “offend” anyone.

“Maybe I WILL end up alone? Maybe I don’t deserve to be loved?”

“Maybe I SHOULD just give up? Go back to a desk job, stop chasing my dreams, stop being a fucking idiot.”

And then you stop yourself and try to remember that these are faceless trolls, these are people who don’t know you personally (although they may think they do).

These comments come from cowards….bitter little people sitting behind their computer screens. Sometimes they don’t realise the power their words can have, other times they know full went and want to hurt you anyway.

So you try to remember this… but unfortunately the damage has been done. 

You’ve read the words, you’ve felt the hurt. Those irrational insecurities and the crippling self-doubt have already started to bubble and fester away in your brain- replaying on a loop, keeping you awake at night. 

I guarantee there will be people reading this now and thinking “Oh come on! You’re not even a celebrity? Why are you still talking?” or the classic: “You knew what you were signing up for! What did you expect?”

My answer to those people is that I wish this were only a problem for “celebrities” or people in the public eye. 

Unfortunately however I’m talking about the universal issue of online trolling…. the “bullying” of 2016. 

Nobody is exempt and this shit has GOT to stop.

Whether you’re Tweeting Taylor Swift or Jess from school…your words matter.

They might not mean anything to you, you might think you’re “just joking” or that the person you’re sending all this online hate to won’t even notice but I’m telling you- they will and your words are damaging. The people you are directing these awful comments at are human beings. 

It is not okay.

Now, this might seem like a really simple concept but clearly it’s not getting through to the masses:

If you wouldn’t say it to your parents…if you wouldn’t say it to your sibling or your partner...what on earth makes you think it’s okay to say it to a complete stranger? To somebody who goes to your school or who works in the next cubicle?

How would you feel if your little sister was the one crying herself to sleep?

How would you cope with losing a loved one due to online tormenting?

Enough is enough. 

This world is already such a troubling and scary place.

Let’s not add to the darkness.  

(If you or anybody you know has felt the effects of cyber bullying or just wants somebody to talk to, call or hit up Beyond Blue: 1300 22 4636)

[youngbloodsocial]

Miss Independent- Kelly Clarkson

Today I did something that I never thought I’d do.

I went and saw a movie by myself.

It might not sound like much of an achievement but if you knew me well, you’d be suitably impressed and it got me thinking about how much had changed over the last year…

A year ago, the mere thought of being alone created a surge of panic somewhere inside me.  A tightening of the chest.

I was coming to terms with being single for the first time since I was a teenager and desperately, desperately missing my ex. The world seemed scary and impossible without them and I was overwhelmed at the thought of having to do every day activities and handle normal, adult situations without them by my side.

But it wasn’t just about being single; I just hated being by myself, left to my own thoughts. I’ve always been someone who packs their schedules chock-full of coffee catch up’s, long lunches and dinner dates…someone who is excited when their housemates get home from work or when they walk into the office in the morning because it means I’ll once again be surrounded by people.

I remember being in lockdown the night before I went into the Big Brother house, stuck in a hotel room on the Gold Coast and the executive producer Alex telling me to “enjoy my last night on my own” because I was about to be forced to live with a bunch of strangers.

Ironically, the 10 days in isolation were by far more challenging than the 9 weeks in that house.

On top of all that, the movies reminded me of my ex and cutesy date nights and unfortunately an activity once found up there with my favourite things to do on a Sunday night was suddenly marred by the sting of heartache.

So, now, perhaps you understand that the fact that I was quite happy to take myself off to a movie I’d wanted to watch, spending some quality time in my own company is actually quite telling.

Telling of how far I’ve come in the last 12 months. I’ve gone from someone completely co-dependent on other people, a succubus of other’s energy and time…annoyingly needy and prone to late-night meltdowns, faced with the thought of sleeping alone once again… to someone who enjoys their “me” time.

Who is independent and quite capable of spending days and weeks completely by herself. Who, instead of bending over backwards, trying to make other’s happy all the time, is doing things for herself.

Pilates and lunches at expensive French patisseries and lingerie that costs more than my rent for the week and solo late night detours to cocktail bars just because I can. Because I want to, and because I have nobody else to answer to.

I remember when I first got dumped, my long-suffering best friend Sophia told me that I would eventually learn to love being single, that I probably needed some time on my own.

“I can’t wait for you to start dating and sleeping with different people and to realise that sometimes it’s even more fun than being in a relationship.”

I remember looking up at her, with mascara running down my face, drunk off my third bottle of pinot gris and thinking “Not going to fucking happen.”

But, Sophia was right, as she often is.

It’s been a long year. A tough year. A year of growth and life lessons and trial and error but I’m doing okay. I’m actually better than okay, I’m happy.

All on my own.

PS. For those interested, the movie I went to see was “Miss You Already.” Interesting choice for a few reasons: 

1. I went to see it at lunch time on a Sunday which meant I was being recognised left, right and centre by tweens in groups of 5 or more. Whilst I’m perfectly fine with seeing a movie alone, I’m dreading the “DiD I seE U 2day at JAm Factory cing a MoVie by Urself?” Instagram comments.

2. It was a cancer movie. Featuring best friends and lots of mummy/daughter scenes and left me sobbing so hard, I lost a contact lens. So not only was I walking home with sunglasses on, hiding my tear stained face but I was also legally blind and probably almost got hit by a car or two. 

Other than that- great film! Highly recommended. 

[youngbloodsocial]

Happy Father’s Day

To the most incredibly loving, inspirational, strong father a person could ask for:

This year, I’ve decided to do something a little different. 

This year, I’ve decided to let the whole world know exactly what you mean to me because god dammit you deserve all the love and praise in the world, not just from the boys, mum and I.

Philip Tully Smyth, you are by far and away my most favourite human being.

There’s no denying I’m a Daddy’s girl. First born and the only daughter meant that you and I have always had a very special bond and relationship, one that I have cherished for as long as I can remember and will continue to do so for the rest of my life.

As I write this, several memories spring to mind…

The time in Fiji when you decided to shave off your beard for the first time in our lives and Scott and I ran screaming and crying in the opposite direction down the beach.

The time I decided it was a good idea to take my feet off my bike peddles and you ran faster than the speed of light after me down the steepest hill in our street. 

The times I’d get sick…with whooping cough or ear aches or “growing pains” and you’d sit by my bedside, telling me “If I could swap places and take all your pain away, I would.”

The times I’d make you walk through the garden with a stick, checking for snakes. Or check the gas metre for suprise gas explosions. Or scare away whatever else my worried little brain was consumed with that week. 

The time you bought home our first CD player and my first ever CD, the Grease soundtrack. And all the times you would fast-forward the sex scene in the car. (It took me forever to figure out what a “rubber” was.)

The time I came to you with a conundrum about which boy at primary school I should like- the one who was nice to me or the one who was rich- and you told me to always choose love over money.

The time you stayed up all hours of the night helping me craft a life-size rocket ship complete with flashing lights…or the board game featuring the map of Australia…or any of the other 101 school projects you “helped” me with.

The time you picked me up from my friends house after I’d been caught lying (and drinking) about where I was the night before. You didn’t scream or yell, you didn’t say a thing. And that was punishment enough.

The times you’d stand behind me whilst I was on MSN, pointing at different names and asking me how I knew each and every single person on my contact list, just incase they were a 50 year old man in Iceland.

The time you left your job as a high-paid, high-flying advertising hot shot to become a full time carer to mum and us kids. The time you put everything on the line, spent every cent we had so that our lives could continue on as normal as possible. 

The times you gave my boyfriends a hard time and the times you didn’t say a word about my girlfriends. The time you held me while I sobbed over my first heartbreak and promised me it would get easier.

The countless times you spoon fed mum, bathed her, dressed her with the patience and care of a man who would do anything for the woman he loved.

The times you shielded us and protected us from the severity of her disease, allowing us to continue being teenagers and kids. The times you would tell us everything was fine, to go out and see our friends, whilst you faced losing your wife and best friend alone.

The time you collapsed in my arms and wept after we finally agreed to let mum go into a care home. 

The time I got my tounge pierced- despite you saying I couldn’t- and you only found out about it months later, when I ended up in ER with a migraine. You didn’t even yell at me.

The time you came up to Bathurst to see me, your first born, graduate from university. The look of pride and tears in your eyes as I told you “I did it!”

The time you gave the most beautiful and moving speech at my 21st and insured there was not a dry eye in the house. 

The time I went on my first big overseas adventure and you’d stand in my bedroom doorway every day, just looking into my empty room. The time I told you I’d made a last minute decision to swing past Mexico and you didn’t give me a lecture. 

The time I first moved out of home, but would call you 24/7 with the stupidest of questions. “How long does it take for an egg to boil?” “Can I wash leather in the washing machine?” “Is chicken okay to eat if it’s been in the fridge for 3 days?” and you would act as if it wasn’t a silly question at all. 

The times we go to visit mum, no longer able to talk or recognise us. Where you’d sit down beside her, stroking her hair and giving her soft kisses. You tell her she was still the most beautiful woman in the world to you and you loved her more every day.

The time I was rushed to emergency with an appendicitis and you came to be by my side without me even asking. The times you stayed over afterwards, looking after me when I had raging fevers and cooking me scrambled eggs.

The time I decided to put myself in a house with a bunch of strangers to be filmed on national TV…made a few mistakes….got my boobs out…and you told me you couldn’t be prouder. That I had been myself and what more could you ever expect of me?

The time I decided to move to Melbourne, away from all my family and friends to follow my heart and you didn’t tell me I was being an idiot. 

The times I called you balling my eyes out, feeling so lost. Not knowing what to do or who I was anymore. Nursing a broken heart once again and feeling like I was failing at life, letting you down. And you’d just listen and tell me to you loved me. That you believed in me. 

The time I called you and told you I was happy. That I had a new job, that I was writing and working out and loving my life and you said “Bravo pumpkin! Thats great to hear!” … but still tried convincing me to move home.

Daddy, I know it’s been tough. I know we’ve been dealt a hard card, a card that none of us would wish upon our worst enemies. 

I know you’ve worked your ass off your entire life so that the boys and I could have everything and more- that you should be relaxing in retirement by now with a beautiful bottle of red instead of working ridiculous hours just to make ends meet.

I know you and mum should be living in your own little apartment somewhere half way between Scott and Tom’s places, spending your nights together reading in bed, instead sharing biscuits at her care home.

I know all this. 

But do you know what else I know? That you have done your very best. You have done an incredible job bringing the three of us up, shaping us into intelligent, driven, empathetic human beings who are all successful and happy in their own right.

I also know that we couldn’t love you or appreciate you any more than we already do.

You are strong and you are brilliant and witty and loving and loyal and hilarious and charming and handsome and brave and I wouldn’t have you any other way.

Thank you for being you. Thank you for everything that you’ve done, everything that you do for us. 

Thank you for being such a wonderful, loving husband to mum and for giving the boys and I such a beautiful example of what marriage can be like if you’re lucky enough to find that someone special.

Thank you for giving the boys such an amazing male role model and for showing me the kind of qualities I should be looking for in a partner.

You are incredible. How you’ve managed it over the last 15 or so years I’ll never know but bravo Daddy, I love you to the moon and back.

xxxxx

[youngbloodsocial]

My Coming Out Story

Perhaps one of the most common kind of emails/Tumblr Ask’s/Instagram direct messages I’ve received since my time on Big Brother are questions from you guys wondering how I came out to my parents, or how I knew I was into girls.

When I say perhaps, I mean this is by far and away the most commonly asked question. That and, “Hey I was just wondering if you could promote my product on your Instagram! We LOVE your style! ;)”

Some of the emails are gut wrenching. The confusion and fear felt by some of you guys makes my heart hurt. Sometimes I just want to reach out through the computer screen and tell you it’s all going to be okay.

Some of them scare me. I’m by no means qualified to give this kind of advice, especially to those of you who have thought about hurting yourself. In those circumstances I cannot reply fast enough, trying to express through little black letters on a screen how much you are loved- even though you may not feel it. Even though I may not know you.

Honesty has always been my policy so I’ll be frank about this- at first, the emails made me feel ashamed.

I have thought about writing a blog touching on my ‘coming out story’ and answering some of your questions for quite a while but the shame and guilt I felt for my actions during my time on Big Brother prevented me from being able to put any of it into words.

After all, how was I supposed to answer your questions about your confusion regarding your sexuality when I was clearly one of the most confused out there?

After six years of dating predominately females, I found myself in love with a male.

Although I had always classified myself as ‘bisexual’ when pushed for a label (and trust me, I avoided this like the plague), the social media blacklash and media response to my ‘cheating scandal’ had made me feel horrific about suddenly ‘switching’ sexes.

I felt like a failure and let down to the lesbian community, who had (apparently) huge hopes that I would change the Australian public’s perception of lesbians and show them that we come in all shapes and sizes. Being open about my girlfriend on the show had (unknowingly) made me some kind of poster-child for lesbians everywhere.

I felt like my worst crime was the fact that I had fallen for a boy, when really the fuck up was that I cheated on my partner. The sex of the person or my sexuality should never have come into play.

That being said, I’m not an idiot. “Big Brother lesbian cheats on girlfriend with boy” and “Lesbian cheating scandal” all make far more interesting headlines so I did what I felt I needed to do.

I shut up. I took it. I apologised as much as I could to the people that mattered and I tried to move on with my life.

Almost two years on and I think I’m ready to fill you guys in. I’m proud of who I am, I’m more than happy to walk down the street holding the hand of a women as I am to hold the hand of a man. I’ve been a part of the Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras parade for almost 5 years and feel very strongly about marriage equality and the rights of the LGBTI group as a whole. So here goes…

To make sure I cover off the two most commonly asked questions, I’m going to break them down into “How/when did you know you were into girls” AND “What is your coming out story/how did you tell your parents?”.

(Before I get into this I wanted to say that sexuality and how we deal with it and feel about it is such a personal, subjective thing. How I feel about my own sexuality, how I decided to deal with it or talk about it is by no means the ‘right’ way to do it. This is just my own personal story and if it helps, great. If not, there are plenty of resources available on fantastic websites such as ‘Same, Same’ and ‘AutoStraddle’- one of my favourite websites. Also, all names have been changed for obvious reasons!)

HOW/WHEN DID YOU KNOW YOU WERE INTO GIRLS?

This is a tricky one. Looking back with hindsight, knowing what I know now there are definitely a few instances throughout my life that stick out.

In Kindergarten, I quickly made best friends with a cute little cherub faced blonde- lets call her Karla*.

Except what started out as a “lets hold hands and skip through the playground!” turned very quickly into “NOBODY ELSE CAN TALK OR PLAY WITH YOU, YOU ARE ALL MINE.”

Now, if you know me personally, you’re probably laughing right about now.

Yes, it’s true, I can be a touch possessive when it comes to the people I love. So maybe this isn’t that weird or important of a memory.

HOWEVER, there is also another memory I have of one afternoon whilst jumping on my trampoline after school.

I remember thinking to myself “I really love Karla. I’m so glad she’s my best friend” and then almost immediately afterwards “But..I love, love her. Like I love her more than a friend. Don’t I? No. No I don’t. You’re supposed to love your friends. It’s fine!”

Now, even now as a 27 year old I think “Fuck me, that’s insightful and deep for a 5 year old!”

How I even managed to grasp the concept of loving someone as a friend vs. romantically is beyond me. But I remember the conversation in my head clear as day.

Then came *Alison in year 10. She was a friend of a friend at high school and used to do weird things like get really drunk and have competitions where she’d try to make out with as many people at a party as possible. Looking back, she clearly just wanted an excuse to make out with a bunch of girls but hey, I wasn’t going to argue.

She was the first person to really fuck with me, mentally. It took our mutual friend (who, it’s worth noting was already out of the closet) to one day point out “I think you might like Alison and I think she might like you too”.

I fought it at first.

“What? What the hell are you talking about? NO way!”

But the more I thought about it, the more I realised she was probably right.

We would spend hours upon hours on MSN talking after school, on the phone before bed… swapping Dashboard Confessional songs and pretending we didn’t want the other to go through the lyrics with a fine tooth comb so that she could realise it was actually a love ballad written specifically for US.

But I wasn’t ready. She was. I think she would have been quite happy to come out and announce ourselves as a couple but I couldn’t do it. The scenario was too far removed from all the big plans I had for myself.

Ever since I was a little girl I had wanted a big wedding. Back then it was a scrapbook with hundreds of photos of pretty girls in white dresses clumsily glued in alongside notes like “This dress, but no veil. Gross!”. These days it’s a hidden Pinterest board.

However none of those photos featured two women. And I wasn’t sure I was ready to pass on that dream just yet.

So we kept it on the down low. Her friends knew which made it easier but I would continually lie to my own. I would only kiss her in dark corners at parties, in bathrooms, in car parks before school.

I even kept dating guys during this time which (quite understandably) was killing her slowly on the inside not to mention confusing the poor boys I was dragging through this mess. Eventually it got too much. She ended up in tears at a party and my boyfriend at the time called us out on it in front of everyone.

Stubborn as a donkey, I kept to my fool-proof plan and denied, denied, denied. In fact, Alison and I only ended for good when it became apparent she had secretly been dating one of my OTHER best friends for quite a while.

I was outraged. Shocked. Hurt. Disappointed. Heartbroken.

But who was I to say anything when as far as my friend was concerned, nothing had ever happened between Alison and I?

If my friend was brave enough to come out and go public then who was I to ask Alison to stay with me in the closet?

The next girl who stole my heart ended up being my first girlfriend, my first love (and heartbreak) and longest relationship to date.

I first saw Sarah* skateboarding to class at the university we both went to. I was a first year, she was a second year. She was wearing ripped jeans and a t-shirt that said “Saturday Night Beaver”.

She confused me greatly.

She was so fucking cool. She shaved her head for cancer. She’d go nude streaking just for fun and write anonymous messages like “You look lovely today” in chalk around the uni campus just to make people’s days.

She didn’t give a fuck about what anybody else thought of her and she just so happened to be dating a girl in the next dorm.

Sarah and I started off in a similar fashion to Alison and I. Long nights spent talking on MySpace, making mix CD’s for each other… I fell hard and fast but I still wasn’t brave enough to go public. I could barely admit it to myself!

I remember some really fucking awful nights in my dorm room. Crying, banging my head against my desk wondering “Why me?”, “Why can’t I just be normal?” It seemed like I was about to embark down a path that was far harder, more painful than the one I’d been on thus far.

I didn’t want to let my Dad down. I didn’t want to embarrass my brother’s or humiliate my ex-boyfriend’s. I definitely didn’t want to lose or alienate my friends.

Sarah was supportive at first but eventually it ended in an ultimatum. Either I tell the world we’re together or I lose her forever.

Losing her was not an option so I made the decision to get some balls. To take a page out of her book and say “Fuck what everybody else thinks”. As long as I had her, everything would be okay.

And it was.  We were together almost three years.

WHAT IS YOUR COMING OUT STORY/HOW DID YOU TELL YOUR PARENTS?

Okay so here is the thing that might let some of you down.

I don’t exactly have a coming out story and I never exactly told my parents I was into girls.

Basically, this is how it happened:

One day, I brought Sarah home and told Dad she’d be staying the night. She had a shaved head at this time and was carrying a skateboard so who knows, maybe Dad knew but if he did, he didn’t say anything.

From there, Sarah began spending a few nights a week at ours. And if she wasn’t there, I was at hers. This happened for almost three years.

Apart from one horrendous time where my Dad walked in on us making out – which I will not talk about because it’s a memory I have pushed so deeply down, it’s fuzzy around the edges like a bad dream- my relationship was Sarah was never addressed or discussed.

She still came to all the family birthday’s. She was at the table at Christmas. In fact Dad treated Sarah as if she was his own, often changing the oil in her car or surprising her with a full tank of petrol.

It wasn’t until Sarah and I broke up that Dad even acknowledged our relationship.

I had been dumped. I was a mess. I hadn’t eaten in days and was shuffling around the house like a zombie.

Eventually Dad came over, pulled me into the hug as I crumbled into fits of sobs. I was a mess. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to be without her.

“I know Pumpkin…I know. It hurts but it will get better, I promise.”

That was it. That’s all he needed to say. I knew he loved me no matter what, no matter who I was dating.

Now, I know I’m very lucky. It could have gone very differently for me- my parents are both a bit older than most of my friends parents. They’re from another world, they’re quite traditional and old school.

I am also the first person in my extended family to love someone of the same sex. So I really had to cover some unfamiliar territory with every family gathering, especially when it was announced I’d be going onto Big Brother. (Dad felt I should probably come completely clean with everybody, although their reaction was “We figured. And we love you regardless.”)

I know it’s not always this easy. That sometimes parents can say all the wrong things, get angry. Or worst, they can disown their own children.

I’d like to think that society itself is continuing to be more open minded and better educated on LGBTI issues. Gay and lesbian characters are popping up in almost every great television show or movie. Musicians and sports people are starting to no longer be afraid to be themselves.

And you shouldn’t be either.

Be honest with yourself. The heart wants what the heart wants. Tell the people around you if you want, keep it private if that feels right for you. You can’t do anything else but be yourself.

The people who love you, who support you and who stick by you are the ones that matter.

As somebody very close to me once told me: “Everything is okay in the end. If it’s not okay, it’s not the end.”

[youngbloodsocial]

The Big Bad X’s- Exercise & Anxiety

I’ve been a big fan of Lena Dunham for a while now.

Her television show ‘GIRLS’ makes me laugh, cry and scream “THAT’S SO WHAT IT’S LIKE!” at my television during every single episode.

Her book ‘Not That Kind of Girl’ spoke to me, had me nodding along and made me believe that maybe I could even write my own book one day.

Her feminist views and politically aware Tweets have me RT’ing like nobody’s business and her Instagram has always been a refreshingly raw insight into her seemingly normal life- boyfriend, dog and bare-faced bed pics and all.

A week ago however she REALLY won my heart.

Lena’s never shied away from her body shape, in fact her body confidence is sometimes so in-your-face, it’s overwhelming. That being said, I’ve always thought how brilliant her approach is and backed it 100%.

She’s happy with her body, so why the hell shouldn’t the rest of the world be?

If she’s okay to write herself into nude sex scenes then power to her! How fucking liberating! (Cue any Beyonce song- they all work.)

But it was this Instagram upload from about a week ago- specifically the caption- that has inspired me to write this blog.

See below:

Promised myself I would not let exercise be the first thing to go by the wayside when I got busy with Girls Season 5 and here is why: it has helped with my anxiety in ways I never dreamed possible. To those struggling with anxiety, OCD, depression: I know it's mad annoying when people tell you to exercise, and it took me about 16 medicated years to listen. I'm glad I did. It ain't about the ass, it's about the brain. Thank you

If I could have stood up and given her a round of applause, I would have.

If you’ve been a reader of my blog for a while now, you’d know that recently I’ve begun to exercise regularly for the first time in my life.

Up until now, I’ve been kinda blessed with a long, slender body shape (thanks Ma!) however at almost 28, I was feeling so ‘blergh’.

Not only was I noticing dimples on my ass (not the cute kind, let me tell you) but I just wasn’t feeling toned or healthy.

I was puffed walking up my apartment stairs, I wasn’t drinking enough water, eating the right stuff...was having trouble with sleeping and my anxiety was through the roof.

Like Lena, I’d been told time and time again to give exercise a go. By my friends (usually those super fit ones who go for runs for funsies on a Sunday morning) by my doctors…. In fact even by Big Brother himself.

During my time in the house, I was experiencing severe anxiety and guilt due to some of the shitty decisions I was making. Being trapped in such a small space, with none of my usual creature comforts to calm me down, I ended up in the diary room in a bit of a state.

BB: “Have you tried going for a run or doing some exercising in the gym?” said the velvety voice behind the mirror. ME: “HA Big Brother, do I look like someone who goes for a run?”

In fact it would be almost another year before I took any of this advice seriously.

I’d always been an anxious kid. As a 5 year old, I used to make my Dad check all the gas appliances in my house before I went to bed, in case there was a gas leak and we were all blown to smithereens in our sleep.

At 7, I’d make sure I knew where all the exits were in the movie theatre incase there was an earthquake and the ceiling caved in, burying us alive.

It got so bad at one point; the nightly news was banned at our place.

My parents couldn’t handle seeing me cry and worry about all the bad things going on in the world- I took it to heart and lay awake at night making deals with god to spare my family.

As I got older, my anxiety got mislabeled as “puberty blues” as I worried myself sick over normal things like exams and fights with friends. I even won “Most Likely to Have A Nervous Breakdown During Her HSC” in my year 12 yearbook (I did in fact vomit before every exam…)

However it wasn’t until my first year at university that I experienced my first panic attack.

It was exam week. I’d been pulling all-nighters at the uni library, living off vending machine junk food and my brain was fried. My girlfriend at the time had convinced me to take a break and do some grocery shopping so that we actually had real food to eat at home.

I was in the supermarket aisle, trying to pick which pasta sauce to buy and all of a sudden the number of choices was overwhelming. Then the aisle seemed to stretch out and go forever. The florescent lights got so bright I could barely see. My chest got tight, my breathing shallow and I had this overwhelming urge to get the fuck out of there. I was going to vomit. Or possibly pass out.

Old mate “anxiety” reared his ugly head a fair few times over the next couple of years but always at times where it seemed to make sense. Moving house, changing jobs, break ups. It was awful and upsetting but it never stuck around for too long, so I never gave too much thought to it.

That was before Big Brother.

Leading up to the show, during the show and most definitely after the fact, my anxiety has been at some all-time high’s.

I’ve spoken before about the kind of states I’ve managed to work myself up into- where I’m crying non-stop, unable to calm myself down. Pacing back and forth, feeling like it’s the end of the world and not knowing how I can help myself, how I can self-soothe or better yet, figure out a way to stop myself from getting to such an awful state in the first place.

Before you say it, I’ve seen multiple professionals about my anxiety. Psychologists, life coaches, spiritual advisors… you name it, I’ve tried it.

And I’m also aware there is medication available; medication which I’m aware has helped hundreds and thousands of people with their anxiety. That’s fantastic but I’ve got an addictive personality and I’ve always tried to avoid medicating if possible.

I at least wanted to try all other options and avenues before I decided to rely on taking a pill to fix me.

However it got to a point after Big Brother, after my big move to Melbourne and a pretty gut-wrenching break up that I felt pretty lost and desperate. I’d tried most of the suggestions given to me; I’d changed my diet, I’d eliminated some of the stress triggers in my life like toxic friends and situations…I’d tried breathing exercises and meditation music.

There was one suggestion left, perhaps the most common suggestion. The very thing I’d successfully avoided for 27 years of my life.

Exercise.

I knew I wouldn’t be able to do it alone. I’ve always been a very social person. I’m at my best surrounded by other people, friends especially so I enlisted a friend who was also feeling like it was about time she started looking after herself better and together we joined Kaya Healh Clubs in Melbourne.

Kaya had all the usual gym equipment that I’d seen before but they specialized in yoga (another suggestion I’d heard more than once but one that I’d struggled with previously. Trying to tell an anxious person to “switch off their brain and clear their thoughts” is almost laughable. If I knew how to do that, I wouldn’t be sitting on this foam mat in $100 Lulu Lemon pants!) and pilates.

It didn’t take long for me to become pilates obsessed. It’s low intensity enough that I’m not red-faced and puffing within 5 minutes (which would just put me off the whole thing entirely) but fast paced enough that I don’t get bored, or lost in my worried thoughts.

My favourite is Pilates reformer, which uses a machine that kind of resembles something out of a horror film- that or something from Christian Grey’s red room but is actually this magical machine that lets you work out almost every single muscle in your body in new and interesting ways each class.

The change on my mind and body was effective almost immediately. In fact, I think I may have skipped home from my first class and slept like a baby that night.

As I got more and more into pilates, even adding some running and cardio to my fitness regime, I begun to finally realize what everybody had been talking about for all these years.

I kicked myself for being so stubborn and pessimistic. For not taking their advice or listening...at least giving it a go, sooner.

Pilates and exercising in general has, as Lena said, helped my anxiety in ways I never thought possible. Not only am I feeling healthier and looking more toned, my head is clearer and less clouded with worries.

And when I do find myself getting anxious, or feel an attack coming on…I just chuck on my gym gear and head to the gym.

I put on a Spotify “I AM WOMEN, HEAR ME ROAR” playlist and run till I’ve forgotten what I was worried about.

Or I hit up a pilates class and focus my brain on holding my plank.

So again, echoing her Majesty Lena Dunham’s sentiments last week; to those of you who might be struggling with anxiety, OCD or depression- I know it’s fucking annoying when people tell you to exercise. In fact, when you’re feeling like that it’s sometimes the very last thing you feel like doing.

But please, please, please, PLEASE take it from me. Or Lena.

Give it a go. Just give it a try. Most pilates/yoga studios will let you try out a class for free before you have to sign or pay anything so just go in, take a friend, and give it a shot.

It may help and it definitely won’t hurt.

For more facts or info about anxiety, or if you just want to speak to somebody about it please hit up Beyond Blue.

[youngbloodsocial]

It's time to go....Big Brother?

The weird stomach butterflies were back.

You know, the same ones I had on the launch day of Big Brother 2014.

As my Instagram and Twitter newsfeeds filled up with photos of Jason eating breakfast and Lisa and Aisha getting their finale outfits all packed and ready for the bus trip to Dreamworld, those familiar weird feelings started to creep back into my tummy.

Was it really about to be all over for another year? It feels like only yesterday I was hopping on that same mini bus with my own lot of housemates, excited for our one last moment on that stage.

And why do I care? I had my finale. Was I happy or sad this series was about to end?

Or was it the rumours that this would be the last series of Big Brother that were making me feel weirdly nostalgic and if I’m honest, a little bit sad.

One thing was for sure- there was no way in hell I was going to settle in to watch the Big Brother Finale alone. And who better to make a big LOL out of the situation than 2012 housemate Stacey Wren.

Arriving at Stacey’s place in Bondi I was greeted to a cheese platter and my choice of red or white.

“I’ll take white…don’t worry about a glass, just give me a straw” I joked. Our time as Big Brother housemates was only one of the things Stacey and I had in common… our love of wine was another.

We had our usual catch up of Big Brother gossip whereby she filled me in on everything new from the 2012 guys, I brought her up to speed with all the 2013 goss and we shared what tidbits we’d caught on the grapevine about the latest Big Brother grommets.

Once again I remembered how nice it was to be able to discuss this kind of stuff with somebody who understands. Who knows what I mean when I say I’m kind of excited this series is almost over, but also a little upset the show might not be continuing.

Someone who gets that despite not being actually involved with this year’s Big Brother- it has still somehow consumed my life for the 80 days that it’s been running.

As the show starts, we both cross our fingers this year’s lot are forced into an equally embarrassing choreographed opening number as we were- only to be sadly disappointed they managed to get away with a single cringe-worthy dance move at the top of the runway before joining Sonia on stage.

The usual back and forth between Sonia and the three remaining housemates- Skye, Travis and Ryan- as well as the evicted housemates now situated on stage took place and before we knew it, we were down to a flashback montage.

I’m not going to lie- there were tears. It was nice to see Reggie and Chrissie Swan, my number 1 crush Ryan ‘Fitzy’ Fitzgerald and then the more familiar faces of Ben Norris and Tim Dormer on our television again.

The short clips from previous series brought back lots of fond memories of me staying up late at night, glued to the TV screen watching my favourite reality show.

It also reinforced the feeling of ‘family’. There are only a handful of people in the world who have experienced what myself and the other Big Brother Housemate’s have and I feel very lucky to have been given the opportunity to be a part of something so special and unique.

By now it was almost 11 so Sonia had some matters to attend to.

When Skye was announced as second runner up, Stacey and I jumped from the couch, almost spilling our wines all over our onesies.

Whilst I appreciated she was a crowd favourite, her arrogance about winning towards the end of the series and specifically her refusal to pack her suitcase when she was up for evictions had left a sour taste in our mouths.

As Aisha once Tweeted: “Modesty is a beautiful trait in a human.”

When it was down to Travis and Ryan I was torn.

On one side, I had been #TeamRyan since way back. Not only did he seem down to earth and very able (and willing) to take the piss out of himself, the way he spoke about his beautiful mother who suffers from MS hit a nerve with me and reminded me of my own situation with my own mother who suffers from early onset Alzheimer’s.

Okay fine. He’s also a massive babe.

Travis however had also been a pleasure to watch. He never seemed to play the game with any kind of malice, was never out to hurt or double cross anyone- he was an entertainer and seemingly the joker and spirit of the Big Brother house.

What was interesting to me however was that neither Travis nor Ryan had played a ‘Tim’ game. They hadn’t played strategically as such. There were no master plans or grand schemes. They lived in the moment, rather than thinking too far ahead, were playing a fast game of ‘Snap!’ rather than taking part in an intense chess match or re-creating their own version of Hunger Games. 

Don’t get me wrong, there is not one housemate from my year that doesn’t respect the way Tim played the game. He was entertaining and he was strategic and he deserved to win the $250K, no doubts about that.

But Travis and Ryan were the last two standing for a different reason entirely. They were there because they were well liked in the house. They didn’t seem to dwell too much on their decisions- they were just there to have fun and see how far they could get.

When Ryan was announced the winner of Big Brother 2014 (and perhaps the last), I’m sure I heard half of Bondi roar from their balconies as they cracked open another fresh coconut.

It felt good to see a nice, easy going guy take it home because of just that- he was a nice, easy going guy.

He wasn’t an attention seeker, he wasn’t intense or dramatic and he wasn’t involved with any cheating scandals or house romances. He didn’t double cross anybody, back stab any of his friends or take advantage of any twists or turns in order to get ahead of the game. He didn’t win any extra cash during any of the ‘Head of House’ power plays, or receive any special advantages or extra airtime. He just went in there and enjoyed the experience.

He had fun, made the most of every day and was true to himself.

I’m not sure whether this really IS the end of Big Brother, but if it is- it feels nice to end it on that note.

[youngbloodsocial]

A quick wrap up of mine and Astro's time adventuring around the UK thanks to the guys at STA Travel and Visit Britain! 

[youngbloodsocial]

Beautiful Ben

One of the most frequently asked questions from people on the street after my time on Big Brother is “What’s the best thing that we didn’t get to see?”

My response has, and always will be: “Ben’s sick sense of humour.”

Sure, you all saw Ben making his now-famous self depreciating jokes, watched him playing the ‘bumbling old fool’.

He often used to say he was an old man trapped in a 30 year old’s body.

“Daft Punk? Never heard of them.”

“But what does ‘totes’ mean?”

“What did I miss? I was in the bathroom.” 

What you DIDN’T get to see- was his hilariously crass, sick and politically incorrect sense of humor.

Ben would have the entire house bent over in stiches with his quick-witted jokes, sleazy pick up lines (usually directed at Drew) and insanely intelligent observations he’d quietly been storing away for a rainy day (or lull in the conversation).

He is hands down one of the brightest and funniest men I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.

He’s also extremely sweet. He’s kind natured and sensitive, with a ginormous heart.

He’d often turn to me for solace in the house, knowing full well if anyone was going to cry over spilt milk with him, it was me.

He found the whole process of having to nominate stressful. Ben, like me, wished that everyone could stay.

If an argument were to break out at the dinner table, he’d retreat to his bed. All the yelling made him sad.

He is a soft, fragile creature.

To us however, at times he felt like a 30 year old trapped in a child’s body. Needing to be shown how to cook his own tofu, how to apply fake tan, taught the slang words of our generation, taken step-by-step through how to turn on a treadmill.

Sometimes I was convinced he knew more than he was letting on, but enjoyed making the rest of us feel special and important, teaching him everything we knew about the world as we knew it, when really he is the wisest of us all.

  One of my favourite memories of my time in Big Brother is when Ben, Drew and I would sit on the deck in the sun lounges and talk about our love of movies. We’d discuss the Bond series and who our favourite 007 was. We’d throw trivia questions to each other, testing our knowledge on everything from the Blues Brothers to Mean Girls.

He seemed relaxed and happy on that deck, cup of tea in hand. He was in his element.

  Ben is a lot of things. Brilliant, intelligent, loving, loyal, kind, hilarious, cheeky…he is a serious movie buff, a collector, a creature of habit and lover of pyjamas.

  He is also quite often inexplicably sad and anxious- feelings that have plagued him for most of his life.

But these are only part of who he is. My favourite bits are the other bits.

  His snorting laugh. His stupid little manicure kit. His hatred for Mr Clooney but adoration for his dog Roy. His weekly shopping list and dates with his local take away shops (which never change, ever).  His knowledge of old movies and 80’s Australian television icons. His short-sleeved shirts. His dorky dance moves. His dedication to dating apps (despite his lack of success). His love of Brisbane and his mum. His avoidance of Tim and any of the other housemate’s phone calls. His gratitude when you help him out with a task he KNOWS he should be able to do himself.

His warmth and his smile and his search for love and happiness. These are my favourite bits.

  I’m not going to pretend like I understand the first thing about depression- I don’t. I have no idea about the demon Ben has been struggling with for years, the dark cloud hanging over him when he wakes up every morning or what was going through his head that weekend.

I do however have some experience with anxiety and I know first hand how utterly debilitating it can be. I wouldn’t wish that upon anyone, especially our fragile Ben.

  I hope recent events will result in Ben receiving the professional help and care that he needs.

I hope he knows how much he is loved, not just by me and the other housemates but by Australia.

I hope he realises just how much he DOES have to go back to.  How he is stronger, braver, more beautiful than he thinks.

And if he doesn’t, we’ll all be here to enlighten him- just as he has enlightened us.

[youngbloodsocial]

Reality TV friendships: real or fake?

Another piece for news.com.au.

According to my social media channels today, I’m not the only person still left feeling dumbfounded and heavy hearted after last night’s ‘The Block: Glasshouse’ finale.

All those long sleepless nights, the days spent away from their kids, the strained muscles and sore backs, tears and tantrums…for what? A measly $10k for two of the couples.

Christ, I sunbaked for 9 weeks and walked away with $5k, simply for winning a Big Brother ‘Showdown’ which consisted of walking across a balancing beam and completing a spelling bee!

But lets forget the hoo-ha about reserve prices and auctioneer tactics for a second- there are more than enough articles dissecting the in’s and outs of what went wrong last night.

What I want to discuss is something a little different. I want to talk camaraderie.

Because it wasn’t the fact that poor Darren and Dee would be walking away barely breaking even that was making my face leak last night. It was the other teams waiting in the wings, holding their breath, watching and crying with disappointment, absolutely gutted for their fellow contestants.

When brothers Shannon and Simon Voss realized they had taken home the top prize and thus won the latest series, there was no jumping around. No confetti from the roof. In fact, Simon turned away from the camera, wiping back tears from his face.

It was impossible for the boys to celebrate their huge win when their team mates - the guys who had been slogging away with them facing the same challenges, losing the same amount of sleep, spending the same amount of time away from their family and friends - were walking away with almost nothing.

It just didn’t feel right to celebrate. Yeah sure it was a competition at the end of the day, but they were all in this together.

The friendships and camaraderie you form on reality television programs such as The Block are, in my opinion, the best part of the whole experience.

Forget the end prize.

Whether it’s winning the heart of a man you barely know, a huge cash injection or a car, your mortgage paid for, a modeling contract, record or cook book deal…or $250,000 as the winner of Big Brother, at the end of the day, it’s the people you meet along the way that make the experience what it is. They’re the faces you’ll remember when you look back on your 15 minutes. They’re the ones who’ll remember the late nights, the hilarious behind the scenes antics, the mentality of what it was like onboard the reality TV rollercoaster.

Since leaving Big Brother last year I have come to meet (and make dear friends with), quite a few ex-reality TV contestants. Us D-graders tend to be invited to the same events, put on the same tables…and there is a mutual understanding between all of us that results in fast and long-lasting friendships.

Who else better to laugh off Twitter trolls with? To discuss the stressful process of eliminations or evictions? To debate whether the whole experience was worth quitting your day job for?

Who else will understand what it’s like to go from being a nobody to being yelled at in the streets? And then eventually, back to a nobody?

Not to mention the fact that chances are, if you applied for a reality television program, you’re more than likely a fan of other reality television programs.

So in a super creepy way, we all feel like we know each other via our silver screens already.

Whilst my friends and family have always been incredibly supportive, the people who offered me the most insight and understanding post-Big Brother were the housemates from the previous season.

Stacey, Michael and Ben were all subjected to various hysterical phone calls from me where I would ask them “What the fuck do I do with my life now?” or “How did you deal with the new series staring?” or “Why am I losing so many Instagram followers? THEY ARE ALL I HAVE!”

Paying it forward, I’ve already been in touch with most of the 2014 evictee’s, offering a shoulder if they ever need one…or at least an understanding ear for them to offload to.

This past weekend I spent quite a bit of time with some of the girls from the latest Bachelor and it became very obvious to me that this wasn’t just a Big Brother thing.

Those girls have rallied around Sam like a heard of mumma Rhino’s trying to protect their young. I’m pretty sure I saw Zoe throw herself in front of Sam like a human-shield in order to protect her from the paparazzi following us out of an event the other night.

In fact, each and every one of the Bachelor girls that I’ve spoken to has agreed that the best part of the show was making “29 new best friends.”

And that’s not just Channel 10 spin they’ve been instructed to rattle off- that is how they genuinely feel, from the bottom of their hearts. 

“Do you still catch up with the other housemates?” is probably one of the most commonly asked questions I receive on the streets and on my social media channels. (Well that and, “Are you still with Drew?” to which I reply, “No, he has a new girlfriend. I’m single though if you’re interested?”)

The answer is, and always will be, yes! Those guys are family to me now. Like with The Block and The Bachelor, we all shared an experience that no one else will ever quite understand and it will forever link us as people and as friends.

 At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter why we signed up as contestants or what we’ve been competing against each other for- it’s the journey, not the end prize that matters.

[youngbloodsocial]

Finding love on reality TV- for news.com.au.

Last night was a big night for romance and reality television.

Channel 10 saw us in the deepest depths of South Africa for the finale of the second season of The Bachelor while over on Channel 9, Big Brother housemate Cat was confessing her forbidden love to Lawson, the magician with a girlfriend.

First and foremost I would be amiss not to mention my very own reality television romance.

Watching first Sam and Sandra and then Cat and Lawson’s awkward fumbling through the initial stages of a full-blown Big Brother romance- I cringed and hid behind a pillow.

Did my friends and family really have to watch me do this? Is that what Drew and I looked like? Were we that obvious? That ostentatiously flirtatious? And perhaps more importantly, that blatantly disrespectful?

Tuning into Cat tearily confessing her attraction to Lawson in what us old housemates called the ‘circle of love’ (aka. THE place for all big deep and meaningful conversations in the Big Brother house) I found myself yelling to the television screen, probably similar sentiments to the rest of the Australian public:

“Do you REALLY have real feelings for him? It’s only been a few weeks!”

“Oh god Lawson what do you mean ‘she’s not alone in this’? Does that mean you also like her, or that you feel similarly awkward about the situation?”

“Poor Lawson’s girlfriend having to watch this!”

  And then I realised I was a total hypocrite.

  The truth of the matter is I could relate to a lot of what Cat and Lawson were saying.

  Cat, who was feeling attracted to someone who was very much off-limits, and was so worried and acutely aware of said attraction that she had begun to avoid Lawson in the Big Brother house, which is not an easy feat.

Something that felt especially true to me was when Cat said she “missed Lawson” and felt like she hadn’t seen him in ages.

  To the general public- that might sound ridiculous. You’re trapped in a house together 24 hours 7 days a week, how could you possibly miss someone?

But I used to feel similar about Drew.

  I would get so anxious and worried that we were spending too much time together, so would try hanging out with different housemates, or avoid areas of the house he was in. Come dinner time, it would feel like it had been a week since I’d seen him and all I would want to do is hang out and play Frisbee.

  Lawson is probably feeling equally confused and wary. He clearly loves his partner on the outside world, as I did mine. But the mentality and situation he is now in is so bizarre and foreign, he’s probably loving spending time with Cat as much as she is. And isn’t quite sure if it’s real or if it’s the house making him feel that way.

  That mentality is something I’ve struggled to explain to people since leaving the house- my poor ex especially- and something I’ve since decided no one else will ever fully understand, unless of course you were also in the Big Brother house.

  The Big Brother experience puts everything under a microscope and I mean this in more ways than one.

Firstly, every single thing you do is filmed, noted and then put on national television for the whole of Australia to watch, judge and scrutinized.

  It also however, makes every little thing seem ten times bigger/better/worse.

  For example, you wake up to discover that your real-life housemate has decided to use the last bit of Vegemite on their toast in the morning. No biggy. You’ll grab some on the way home from work.

  Your Big Brother housemate commits the same crime? All hell breaks loose! You worked HARD for that shopping budget! You danced for 24 hours straight/scarified some face time with your husband/completed some sort of task! You, as a group, chipped in and voted to splurge and add the jar of Vegemite to the shopping list, sacrificing the second block of cheese.

You’d all discussed using it sparingly, agreeing to only having one piece of toast a day. You have to wait a whole week to do the next grocery shop and what if you lose the task and can’t afford luxuries such as Vegemite?

  Now imagine this kind of amplification on a crush.

  In the real world, Cat would probably never have met Lawson. There is a an eight year age gap between the two of them, so I doubt they’d be hanging out at the same pubs on the weekend.

She also probably doesn’t normally make a habit of going after taken men.

  But it’s the Big Brother house. And she’s starving for affection and what feels like a real, genuine human connection. Not a surface ‘frenemy’ friendship with somebody she’s pretty sure nominated her that very morning.

She’s missing friends and family.

And he’s a nice guy, sweet, funny, saved her the last bit of potato salad at dinner last night.

  I don’t blame Cat and neither should you. It’s a crazy, messed up minefield in that house and these things happen. You really have no right to judge unless you’ve been in that very same situation and I’m going to go out on a limb here and say you haven’t.

That being said, never have I felt more horrible for making my ex watch the #Drully saga unfold than watching the conversation between Cat and Lawson last night.

  Lawson’s girlfriend will now be replaying that conversation, pulling apart Lawson’s facial expression and the specific words he used over and over again in her head, trying to decipher what he meant.

Is he serious? Is this real?

  The time it takes a Big Brother housemate to forget the whole of Australia is watching their every move- including loved ones- is scarily short. In their heads, they were having a private conversation away from the rest of the housemates. Except they were both wearing microphones. And sitting in front of a one-way mirror which had a camera guy pressed up against the glass mere centimeters away from their heads.

  Is the romance between Cat and Lawson genuine? I don’t know. Will Lawson stay faithful to his girlfriend? I can’t tell you.

Are Cat’s feeling’s real or a result of her situation? Not for me to say.

And what’s the go with the other love triangle, Sam and Sandra? Who bloody knows!

  What I can tell you is that it IS possible to fall in love with someone on reality TV. It’s possible for it to be real, and not a ‘showmance’. It’s possible to make it work on the outside, away from the cameras.

And it’s possible, and very probable, for humans to make mistakes.

  I know, because I’ve done all of the above. 

[youngbloodsocial]

I recently spoke with News.com.au about my thoughts on Big Brother this year so far.

See below for full article. 

GET OUT OF MY HOUSE

I should have known it would be impossible to avoid watching Big Brother this year. 

As soon as the promos started up, the anxiety kicked in. Simply hearing the voice of Big Brother gave me a nauseas feeling in my stomach so why would I put myself through that every night of the week? 

As launch night drew near I began to get more and more nervous. I even had some horrible nightmare where I was running around the eviction auditorium but no one- not the fans or the Big Brother crew- could see or hear me. I was invisible! Irrelevant! My time was up and I was going to fade back into obscurity!

Eventually, Tim convinced me to come round to his place for pizza and wine with Jade and we all watched it together.

We cried.

We laughed.

We got bitter and bitchy. “GET OUT OF OUR HOUSE!”

“You can’t talk to Big Brother like that!” “Why the hell didn’t we get a sauna?” 

However as the credits started rolling, I breathed out a sigh of relief that I had been holding in, if I’m honest, since we attended this year’s Big Brother auditions.

It was going to be fine. This was fine. It wasn’t our house, our housemates. That wasn’t my bedroom. And although he was still our Big Brother (and probably always will be- love you Leon) this was a different show and it didn’t change our experience or what it meant to us.

  THE HOUSEMATES

My initial thoughts on the new lot of housemates was that they seemed a little ‘Channel 10 Big Brother’. By that- I mean they were almost caricatures of many of those typical Australian stereotypes.

The funny but self-deprecating gay guy.

The blonde bimbo.

The gym junkie.

Call me bias but our lot of housemates felt more genuine, almost naïve. We were real people with boring jobs and an eagerness to get stuck in.

These guys seemed too clued up. Too ready to play the game. Too ready to jump each other at the jugular. 

That being said, on the eve of the second eviction there are some that are starting to grow on me more than others.

Sandra seems really genuine and down to earth.

Sunday night’s episode saw her upset because she didn’t feel special or pretty on party night in the house. I could not tell you how many similar nights we had last year!

During lockdown, all our measurements are taken and on various nights in the house, the production team will provide outfits or costumes.

The amount of times I’d get to the clothing rack only to discover Jade and Tahan had the ‘sexy’ dresses and I was to wear something that resembled a long sack…or poor Mikkayala trying to fit into certain outfits that were too small…

The Big Brother house amplifies every single little thing you know or think about yourself.  Forget the actual mirrors, you have so much down time to think, reflect and fester on your own thoughts, you drive yourself crazy.

We called it ‘free therapy’ but it can also be quite confronting. 

It’s also been interesting, as an ex-housemate, to see which housemates are getting most of the air time.

Skye seems to be an early favourite to take it home (according to both the public and, seemingly, the producers) whilst Ryan who I thought would be a crowd pleaser is struggling to get a word in.

David, who was painted as the bumbling buffoon with zero lady skills in the early days is now getting a makeover in more ways than one and Jake seems to have fallen by the wayside again despite appearing to be quite popular with the other housemates.

Someone I do think is very interesting and who we haven’t seen enough of yet is Priya. Up there with one of the most intelligent in the house, not only is she thinking strategically, she also has some very interesting and thoughtful insights about the other housemates and relationships in the house.

  DRULLY GATE TAKE 2

Sunday night’s episode was basically ‘The Samdra Show’ and it was starting to feel all too familiar to me.

Boy meets girl.

Girl likes boy.

Except boy has girlfriend.

There is a lot I could say on this budding relationship but I might wait until we see how it plays out a little more first.

What I will say however is that human, emotional, physical connections in that house are rare and imperative.

Without your creature comforts, without your friends or your family, without music or books or social media…you go a little crazy. You crave affection. Why else do you think the housemates are always tangled up in cuddle huddles? Stroking each other’s hair? Giving each other massages? Making out in the spa?

I can empathies with Sandra’s situation whole heartedly however if there were one piece of advice I could give to both of them it would be “If it’s real, it can wait till the outside.”

With that being said, the lines between what is ‘real’ and what is ‘reality TV’ in there are so warped and contorted that they won’t know until it’s too late.

  TWISTS, TURNS AND THUNDERSTORMS

I’m not going to lie; it’s hard to deny the amount of ‘surprises’ that have been dealt out so early in the game. A double eviction and intruder already? Whaaaaaa?

I’m not sure if it’s the later time slot, the combination of housemates or the new ‘game show’ feel but something just isn’t resonating with audiences like it has in the past.

The pairs stunt was very interesting and definitely had us 2014 housemates talking (“Oh my god imagine if we’d been paired up- nightmare!”) however as with the ‘Half Way House’ wall, it didn’t last very long and therefore had only a slight impact on the game overall. 

The introduction of cold hard cash was also very, very interesting. Had I had to make Katie and Priya’s decision on that first night I probably would have vomited with anxiety.

At the end of the day, most people are in that house to win money. By introducing cash so early on in the game- making it tangible and accessible to more than just the last-standing housemate- it changed Big Brother as we know it.

Gemma’s eviction was awful and hard to watch- plain and simple. The general feeling about Gemma from the other housemates had been made (painfully) obvious, so the producers would have had a very strong idea how the eviction would have played out had Jake and Gemma been the pair with the least number of votes to save.

That being said- were they supposed to change the voting format last minute when the numbers came through? Trust me- the timings for an eviction episode are so tight, it would have been impossible. 

And did it get them the ratings spike needed? Yes.

As cringe worthy as it was to watch- it made for good TV and that’s the aim of the game here people.

  TIMS BACK

I almost wish someone had been secretly filming me when the text message came through from Tim letting me know he was hopping on a plane in an hour and heading back into the Big Brother house.

Was he stirring me? Was this one of his pranks, where he films my reaction for his YouTube channel? Am I about to get a call from Kyle and Jackie O at KIIS?

When it became clear that he was, in fact, telling the truth and would be back in the house in a matter of hours, a whole range of emotions flooded over me.

Betrayal. How could you go back into a new house? With new housemates?

Abandonment. Tim and I have become very close lately and we were supposed to be getting through this new series together!

Jealousy. Despite my tumultuous journey with Big Brother, I’d give almost anything to go back in.

I was also a bit sad. Sad for the Big Brother crew that things we’re obviously at such a lull that they needed to wheel out Tim again to spice things up. 

The producers and crew at Big Brother, the housemates past and present, Channel 9 as a network…they will always be family to me and I only want success for the show.

Reality television as a genre is up there with the most popular on television in 2014.

Big Brother is one of the originals and, in my opinion, one of the best.

There is simply nothing else like it on TV and the fan base for it as a program is ginormous and strong. I have every faith that once it replaces The Block and settles back into a more ‘family friendly’ time slot those things will improve.

  And I’ll be watching, every night, like the fan girl I always was.

[youngbloodsocial]

I am beyond proud and excited to announce that I have been nominated for a Cosmopolitan Australia 'Fun Fearless Female' award this year in the social media category. Cosmo has been a magazine that I have read and respected since I was a teenager and it would mean the absolute WORLD to me if you voted for me here: www.cosmopolitan.com.au/funfearlessfemale

[youngbloodsocial]

Meet Steve- my hilarious and very well informed STA Travel expert who helped me plan and organise my #WildCardUK trip!  YOU guys still get a chance to have your say in the kinds of activities I'll get up to. Do me a favour- keep it fun and easy yeah? I'm thinking good food, music....a spot of shopping? PLEASE don't put me through too much physical pain. VOTE HERE and win a lil somethin' somethin' for yourself!  www.statravel.com.au/wildcard.htm

[youngbloodsocial]

The Reality of Reality TV

This blog has been a long time coming. In fact, I've started to write it maybe three or four times since being evicted from the Big Brother house back in September 2013 however it's a tricky one to put out there, mainly because you've got to be really careful at who you're pointing fingers at. The last thing you would want to do- as someone hoping to stay in the television and media industry - is bite the hand that feeds you.

That being said, today's article on news.com.au, featuring Kelly from My Kitchen Rules has inspired me to finally put my own two cents on paper (or screen, as it were). 

Before I get into a few home truths about reality TV and the lives of the d-list 'stars' that are produced as a result of it- I need to make something very clear. 

Despite the print and social media shit storm that I was greeted with upon leaving the house, and the continued online bullying and trolling that I am subjected to on a daily basis - and even what my friends and family believe was the crux of the public backlash I experienced- I never once blamed the editing of the show or the producers.

Did they force me to make the decisions I made in that house? No. Did they put words in my mouth? No. Did the producers call me into the diary room and ask me to act a certain way or use certain words? No.

Did they put me in alien situations where I would act differently to what I perhaps would on the outside world? Yeah, of course. Did they make conscious decisions to show certain clips of me, where I may have been at my most entertaining (even if that meant I was crying)? Yep. 

But what did I expect? It's a reality television program designed to entertain. I knew what I was risking, I knew what I was putting myself up for and I signed along the dotted line anyway.

With that being said, I think it's a little rich for Kelly to blame editing for the way in which she wad depicted.  Was it a glowing example of her personality? Not exactly. Was it fair? Maybe not. But she knew what she was signing up for and she said every single word that was aired- she just probably wishes they hadn't picked and ignored the parts they did.

Now that I've said that- what I will support Kelly whole heartedly on, and what I've discussed countless times with other reality television 'stars' (X-Factor, The Voice, The Bachelor, Australia's Next Top Model, The Block and Big Brother just to name a few) is just how fucking tough it is after the bubble bursts.

One minute you are being pampered and cared for by everyone from executive producers of the show who can't stop telling you how fantastic you are, to chaperones who's one job in life for the next 10 days is to look after your every whim.  You get cars sent to carry you from A-B, flights all over the country, publicists air-kissing you, patting you on the back telling you how fantastic you're doing. You have the glowing prospect of a career in the field you've always dreamed of- shimmering just off in the future like an oasis in the dessert.

Yeah sure, there are a few negative Tweet's coming your way but it's no skin off your nose- you've got a plane to catch, a fancy dress to slip into and a celebrity event to attend.

And then it all stops.

As suddenly as it started and before you can say "but where is my hotel transfer?"-  only a handful of those people give a flying shit who you are, how you are or what you're feeling.

You struggle to slip back into your old life. Your group of friends, despite watching your every move through their television screens and feeling like they've really gone on this adventure with you- really have no idea what they're talking about.

Your old job would probably take you back if you went begging with your tail between your legs but could you handle it? All the whispering and the looks? Doesn't that mean the small window of opportunity has now indeed closed and you have failed at making anything of yourself?

You're broke. Initially, stuck in a contract but then just struggling to find work. All the clothes on your back were a gift from brands wanting you to promote their stuff on your Instagram and all the parties you're constantly photographed at meant you were fed and watered for free- in fact it's the best meal you've had all week! You have to move back into your parents, live off your mother's superannuation or borrow rent off younger siblings.

You're exhausted. Emotionally, physically, mentally. Despite appreciating all the fun, excitement and once-in-a-lifetime opportunities that have been bestowed upon you, you feel like you need a 5 week holiday on a beach somewhere lying very, very still to recover.

You're overwhelmed. Don't get me wrong, all the online love from people who call themselves 'fans' is heart warming. You put up a half-decent photo of yourself and you're inundated with compliments.

Unfortunately- the negative comments are the ones that stick with you, worming their way into your brain, making you question and second guess yourself. "Maybe my boobs ARE really saggy?" "I thought I looked good in that dress...." Whilst they were easy to ignore during and immediately following the show, back when you were up to your eyeballs with appearances and post-show commitments...now, back at home, by yourself, at 10pm at night, after a day of doing nothing because remember, you don't have a job- they make you feel really fucking shitty.

However perhaps the harshest reality of reality television is the lack of psychological support. 

I can't speak on behalf of other reality television programs however at Big Brother, apart from the initial chat with the psychologist immediately after you are evicted- there isn't a whole lot of help in that regard. Sure, you're told you're able to talk to the show psch whenever you want, post-show however you're not exactly sure how open and honest you feel you can be with someone so closely affiliated with the program.

It got to a point where I requested the production company cover the costs of a psychologist of my choosing- which admittedly they were more than happy to do.

I do however believe it would be hugely beneficial for future reality television contestants of all shows, on all networks- to have compulsory check in's with an independent psychologist once a week, 6-12 months after completion of the program. At least. And this is something I will be passing on to the people that be at Big Brother.

With that all being said- my memories and feelings towards Big Brother are by far and away, overwhelmingly positive.

I love all the producers and crew members like they are extended family members (weird Uncles and crazy Aunts). It was the most fun I've ever had in my life and if I could do it again I would, in a heartbeat. (Probably make some different choices, sure but hindsight is always 20/20.)

I guess what I really wanted to get out of writing this article is a little bit of empathy and understanding for people like Kelly.

Yes- we put ourselves in the limelight. Yes, we do receive certain benefits such as invites to some cool parties and free clothes here and there. But do we deserve the online bullying or constant public scrutiny after the cameras have stopped rolling? No.

We're human. We're people. We have feelings and insecurities. We make mistakes- just like you. We just happen to be silly enough to agree to have them filmed for a national audience.

And it's not all doom and gloom, by any means. I'm sure the reality shock will subside and we'll slip back into every day life painlessly, looking back on our time on the telly with the fondest of memories but just so you know- in case you hadn't thought too much about it- the aftermath of a show such as MKR or Big Brother isn't easy or as glamorous as you might think. 

SO- next time you think about commenting on a photo of that new Voice contestant, telling her she looked chubby in her dress last night...maybe think again. Instead, tell her you'd never have the balls to get up on stage and give it your all in front of so many people and walk away feeling good about yourself.

With that, see you on the couch. Shot gun the remote. 

[youngbloodsocial]

You Won't Believe the Followings These Reality TV Stars Have- Popsugar

[youngbloodsocial]

TINDER: What not to do.

Tinder- everybody's guilty little pleasure. Those that are single can't seem to log off and those in relationships hover over it together just for the LOL's (or are blissfully unaware what all this "swiping" is about!)

The latest craze in dating apps seems to have exploded onto our smartphones whilst I was cooped up in the Big Brother house however I have made it my mission to become familiar with the dating app's ins and outs since being released back into the wild. 

After all, what kind of social media expert would I be if I wasn't on Tinder? (Answer: a lonely one.)

Here in Australia, Tinder has more than 5 per cent of the population logging on and a user base that’s growing by nearly 1 per cent per day- kind of crazy when you think about it. 

Out of that 5%- I can tell I've probably swiped left (aka. declined to engage with) well over half. (Who am I kidding, unless you're a fan of Princess Bride on Facebook, we're never going to get a 'match'.)

In fact, it quickly became very obvious that are more than a few very obvious 'Don'ts' when it comes to carefully crafting your Tinder profile. More surprisingly, it appeared as if nobody was learning from other's mistakes and were instead repeating the off-putting social faux pas. 

So, without further adieu I give you my personal Tinder 'Dont's.

(NB: I've stuck to male profiles for the purpose of this article however let me tell you- I've already started my list of female 'don'ts for a whole second article. Ahh the beauty of bisexuality...)

- Here's a bit of a hot tip for you: women tend to have a soft spot for animals. I mean, what kind of psychopath doesn't? It's therefore pretty safe to assume a photo of you with drugged up safari animals staring blankly into the camera isn't going to get her all hot and heavy. ONE photo of you with your family dog will suffice. More than one and you look a little creepy.

- Group shots = an immediate swipe left. If you think I'm going to take the time to try figuring out which particular dude in the white fedora, standing VB in hand at Randwick Racecourse you are, you are sadly mistaken. Take your cyan shirts, bad sunnies and leave. 

- Your only photos are those with other women in them. You might be thinking "Hey, look how hot my female friends are. I MUST be a decent/hot/smart/wealthy guy!" What we're actually thinking is "Is that his girlfriend? Or an ex? Either way- can't be bothered."

- You're holding a gun. This should be self explanatory. Big gun does not equal big man. In fact this old favourite comes into mind.

- You're topless. You're also a douchebag.

- You tell us your life story via your Tinder bio. Women love a bit of mystery, we don't need to know that you're gluten intolerant or that you prefer summer to winter. Besides, if you tell us everything there is to know then what are we supposed to talk about if we match? 

- You don't bother with the banter. If you are lucky enough to 'match' with us, shooting through a "Hey" isn't going to inspire much of a response. If any at all. Keep it short and sweet but make it witty.. You'll get extra points for making us laugh or using whatever info you've gathered on us from our profile photos/mutual Facebook 'Likes' in a clever but not stalkerish way. For example: "Our mutual 'Like' of Brown Cardigan was the clincher for my right swipe." 

- Don't harass us. If we haven't responded to your first text, chances are you were an accidental swipe right and I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news but we're probably not going to respond to your fourth and fifth "Hello?????!!!!!11111"

- You've got your dick out. Put that away and go wash your hands. 

So there you have it. Avoid the above few social media faux pas and you should be hearing the sweet tinkle of a 'match' in no time.

Happy Tindering!