I don’t need much (if any) encouragement to treat myself. Usually, treating myself means a facial or finally clicking through to checkout with the pair of shoes I’ve been adding to my cart for weeks.
The photoshoot was booked out of necessity. I needed some new pics for the HEART from HAZEL website, and the new Running In Heels website. I booked to get my face done with Bobbie Knight, thought I’d do a DIY with the hair (looked a’ight until the rain came), and locked in a studio session with Photography by Sacha.
The link appeared in my inbox and before I opened it I told myself that I had to be nice. I wasn’t allowed to wish for less chins or longer arms or a thigh gap. I wasn’t allowed to focus on my back fat or my fine lines or my lack of cleavage.
I clicked the link and flicked through the images and I cried. I actually cried.
A year before those pics were taken shit had hit the fan. Big time. I was almost 33, back living with my parents, unemployed, with “nothing” in the way of material possessions or money in the bank. I was still paying off the debt from Hazel’s House. Although “paying off” is a loose term because that requires some sort of transferring of cash in instalments and that wasn’t happening.
On my 33rd birthday I was at a market in Auckland with one of my greatest supporters and BFF’s. I was debuting my recent rebrand and HEART from HAZEL’s latest wares. It was one of those days when you feel like you’re back at high school and you are definitely not in the cool crowd.
Standing there, in all my broken glory, while a group of women pointed and whispered behind their hands, I made a quiet promise to myself that 33 would be my year. Come hell or high water I was going to get shit done – not even my overdraft was going to stand in my way.
But you know how it is…I graft away and feel like I’m getting nowhere fast. One step forward two steps back and all that. And then, there’s a link in my inbox, and I sat there with Dr Phil and simultaneously fist pumped and high fived myself.
And then, when I thought it couldn’t get any better than wearing a super chunky scarf as a top, I got to hang out with Sacha and the Sienna Reid crew a week later. And when I saw myself, in a tutu, standing in front of a flower wall, holding a cake, I knew, that this is indeed my year.
So do yourself a favour, book yourself a face magician, lock in an amazing photographer and treat yourself.