Award winning and critically acclaimed!

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I would like to start my post with this quote from this great man. (thanks facebook)

This post has been festering in me for quite a while. I am one horrible critic, and I do not spare myself either of it, also I am way too harsh in my expressions.

Award winning

Award winning is something more of a tangible thing, yet critically acclaimed is harder to grasp.

Award winning suppose an actual award to exist and suppose that the person actually won that award, prize, title, etc.

Obviously in London/Britain each and every performer has won some kind of an award, even being a part time performer not to mention bad performers, yet on the mainland we performers hardly ever get an award, even if we maintain ourselves by our art.

Then you can go and make shit up… distort information and such.

In my home country we have a lady, that a couple of years ago decided that pole dancing, stripping, aerials, and whatnot belonged to her personally. So she made Tv appearances and claimed to be a world champion stripper… Well, great, but there is no such title as is!
Obviously people in the burlesque scene would refer to the Burlesque hall of Fame and the Miss Exotic world title, but she never even competed there, so nope. Then in “stripping” (as of butt naked, or more sexual stripping – no shame, just specifying) there is a million and one competitions, with a lot less art involved.
Anyways this fair lady won a Miss Nude Canada and returned home as a world champion stripper… you see the contradiction here. (Later on she surfaced in a far away burlesque festival as well, you know just because…)

So what is this all about? Marketing! Shameless marketing…

But, at least she makes a damn good linving out of it! She is a major celebrity and even has quite some contacts and shows internationally…

So, I get it!

Yet, I cannot understand people who does this without any apparent benefit… being “famous” with nothing… getting attention, only… that is quite a trainwreck attitude… (at least for any of us trying to make a living here…)

Anyways, turning back from general shittalking about others to the point in the burlesque industry…

Award winning…. all new awards and titles and competitions popping up and guess what?

Bumm! It goes mostly to the very same people, who already had some…

So either you are a newcomer and may win something in that category or straight up forget about it, if you do not already own a couple of well polished awards up your award shelf.

Critically Acclaimed

By whom?

We all know about the marvellously written press releases, right?

I mean, you know, written by your best friend or a payed writer to put the best quotable line out there about you…

Then, let us be honest with ourselves, there is no negative criticism our so beloved community, it just cannot exist… Even when we express negative opinions we wrap it in pink so carefully, making sure we don’t burn up the bridges behind us and don’t loose precious contacts in the scene…

Nobody wants to be the troublemaker

Also the faux-positivity surfaces, as you are the badguy, when God forbids you name the person who ripped an act of yours off, because say something nice or don’t say anything at all…

You see a shit act, and nobody dares to say it out loud, you see a rip-off act and hardly nobody dares to say it out loud, yet everyone thinks the same.

All the critical good words I have out there are from LBF, and are mostly blogs…

Why?

Because, who the fuck cares about the chick from the other end of Europe, while we can review the well-known, friend of many friends local performer?

So the conclusion is that while there is not a panel of official critics that do need to review everything they actually see, and by what they actually see, this is also just another dead end street in burlescalandia.

What is success?

We jump back to the basic fact, that life is on social media. Nowhere else, but…

Or really?

Performance art is live art, and sure we can tape it, but it will never ever be the same, as it is live. In my view it looses somewhat 80% of it’s poise and energy. Therefore it is very hard to convert or to translate it into social media terms.

And here comes the tricky part, how social media gets to distort the skills a performer might have.

Well, in the world of circus, skills rule the scene, and that is hard to fake, even a photo is showing a whole lot to another professional, so evaluation is easier, there is less playing around. Surely there are differences between the success of same skill level artist with different talents in the artistic side or plain marketing.

But with burlesque, it is just insane what have been going down in the last 7 years! (read my post on the burlesque top 50… from over a year ago, yet just NOW, bigger names start to pick the topic, carefully wrapped in pink schiffon, of course, because saying it is all bollock would be too harsh…)

To answer the question.

For me, success is being able to be a full time performer, earn over 80-90% of your income from performing. Preferably performing, what and where you actually like.

Then again it is not all. Now, I absolutely can see the benefits of stepping back from full timing in order to better as an artist.

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The conscious private fantasy world

This is where I live.

Whenever I need to face the “real” world, I get very shocked and wonder how much wronger it all can go?

I don’t want, what other people want, I don’t want what society wants.

I don’t have a Tv.

I don’t buy at supermarkets.

I don’t eat that manipulative publicity.

I still wear clother I made myself at age 15.

I think my body is perfect, yet this has nothing to do with anything.

I plant tomatoes. I also kill my plants quite often….

I do my best to generate less waste, yet I do buy chocolate, separately packeged.

I care about my health, yet I am not a fanatic.

Blabla.

In the middle of a big city, I live a completely different life to the others.

And I think you should as well.

I’m not talking about manic pixie whatsoever crazychick style, because that is also a pose.

Either instamaniac vegan cook or crossfit wannabe style.

We need authentic people, we need no wannabes.

We need consciousness. Care and attention payed to something other than yourself.

Generate less waste, pick up the garbad and take it to the bin, leave the nature clean.

The point is that we all live in our private little worlds, but we do not need to necessarily ignorant selfish bastards. There is a fine line between (like the Grand canyon) being commercially manipulated and consious living.

We need to be more critical, ask why a whole lotta more often and accept not the unacceptable…

Just a block from my house there is a huge billboard advertising breast augmentation, with a model in underwear. NOBODY, but nobody questions that!? Yet, when you ask to not to be given an extra plastic bag with your food (intended to be bought at the counter) you are questioned with a sigh and bad manners.

The aerial artist and the postpartum

A quite busy time, as my son is already over 2 months old and I have not find the time to write this.

Once again this time I either can say that this is some kind of a scene of suspense movie, where the crazy mother wants to strangle her own child…

Then again, I had the easiest of births, so I was mobile from the moment I finished giving birth, I could get myself from the birth bed to my hospital bed by my own and refused all painkillers I was offered through my stay. (I am no masochist, I just did not have pain)

Here they have us in about 48 hours. So I was out by Tuesday afternoon.

You obviously need to break down at a certain point after such an intense experience. My breakdown came, when we arrived home and I saw how unready all was, and dirty and messy… we even left a candle burning next to bathtub on the day of the birth, so you can imagine…

So I had a good cry.

Then life went on.

My input:

Having a 24 hours helper comes in veeery handy at least the first week. (in my case my Mom) I felt the need of it. Pretty much any help goes from someone who have seen babies before (¡¡¡¡muy very important!!!). Before accepting my mom to come we thought through a cleaning lady, but decided to let my mom stay in with me. I was all mobile, but to recover the best you need to lie flat and rest, and that is hard with a baby, also you would need 15 hours straight sleep, which if you breastfeed is just impossible.

Good thing about this time, that you actually can’t give a fuck about anything that is not your baby, when I was told I could not believe, but now I know.

I would have been cool having help only the first week, but you gotta let the grandparents play.

Things I learned:

It is not always the boobie. The first day, whenever my son cried I was putting him on the boobie, nope, he also poops, gets sleepy without finding the way to fall asleep, tummy aches, etc.

The pediatricians can be very… not nice…

Postpartum classes are great and useful

Breastfeeding rulez

Cloth diapers are awesome!!!
(although the lack of skin irritation is not guaranteed, baby boy had irritation on his belly from the pee and hot weather mix)

Nursing bras

Looks like the world thinks nursing mothers’ sizes start from 90 C… and on top it we are so amorf that our boobs are tight close together…
I mean I’m a 75 B and my boobs are wider apart, than the general nursing bra’s measure… add the fact that they are expensive too.
So if you are not an amorf being with 90 C plus size I have a cheap and pretty link for you, this is the bra that worked best for me, 100% cotton and very good quality, especially for being chinese, and on top of it cute and the opening method is really funky and comfy.

Nursing bra

Training (or the lack of it):

On the third week I was finally alone with my baby and the daddy!!!! I was so happy!!! I was eager to get back to training…

Which is hardly ever happening ever since…

I guess I will be able to set up a doable ruotine soon. Until now I was caught up procrastinating (obviously), between too sleepy, too tired, too late…

Also we are just cleaning our “local” up so my pole and weights and machines can be used.

In this almost 3 months I did a contorsion class, stretching and abs now and then and a “leg” day(doing 1/3 of my general leg warm up) last monday… which caused me loads of muscle ache…

The aerial artist and the pregnancy – part 5 – magical natural birth

So, I published the last post and the next morning I went into labour at 5.30 am.

Information overflow

Dilemma was the overflow of information, the drowning amounts of advices from people that had no idea whatsoever about anything about my strenght of will, lack of their own, or knowledge of my lifestyle and body. Pretty similar to the third trimester thing. I had recent mothers telling me how there was no way to not get an epidural and that natural birth is like a myth…

It was clear to me, that doctors decide, if a c-section was necessary, or whatever, but I really projected a wholly natural birth in my head.

Culturally the whole approach towards the procedure of giving birth goes pretty different in different countries.

“Just shoot me up with epidural” Spain.

Fucking crazy! Attitude of want no pain. In the preparation classes I was the only one, who had it clear, that I wanted natural and another couple of girls saying that they will see.

Most people that had epidural tells you that you cannot go without.
At the end, you can whatever you want, as far as no medical intervention is needed.

On the other hand, Hungarians see giving birth as something very natural and most would never even consider epidural with a well going birth, not even the younger generation.

Hungry of episiotomy Hungary.

Or maybe only my mom. She had tearing so she told me a million times to make sure to be cut first before tearing… Well, I did the very contrary, I wanted no episiotomy. All natural. In fact doctors are ther to know when to cut if needed. (The scary bit is that in some cases the tearing can go upwards, which is a nonoNOOOO, as for telling you the risky bits to consider)

Obviously I did massive preparation, I did the perinal massage from week 32 about 5 times a week, 15-20 mins. I also religiously drank the raspberry leaf tea. And I practice Prana Nadi, that is my magic for life.

Acrobats get C section.

This was the worst case scenario for me, so I listened to the midwife, and my body, quit abs for the last trimester and mentalized that I will need to relax my ab muscles, breathe and control and let go.

The birth

This is where all women start hating me…

May 31.

I had a quite express, all natural birth. Less than 12 hours between the first contraction and baby. No epidural, no episiotomy, no stitches, no painkillers.

Contraction started 5.30 am, I was accepted in hospital at 2 pm, waters broke 4 pm and my son was born at 4.45 pm.

I would do the whole again the same way, although there were certain screams of I cannot any more.

(I just figured I skip the not so gruesome, but details)

My recommendation:

Get as much information as you can, expect even the unexpected, but don’t freak out. I went to the preparation classes they have here, researched a lot about birth in general, talked to pretty much all mothers I knew, and also was aware of my family history (very fast births).

Do the perineal massage!! It is a great pain in the ass, but it does work magic!! I used pranarom’s perineal elasticity oil, did it about 5 times a week.

I did Prana Nadi, you do whatever you please, but find a way to relax.

Having the father there is the best, it is the business of you two, not anyone else. (not your mother, and the least some stupid friend)

Relax, listen to the midwife! I was amazed how professional she was, she didn’t even touch me, just guided with her voice, amazing.

At the end birth is a natural process of life and the less doctors need to be involved the better for you and your little one. (yet, I do recommend giving birth at a hospital just in case)

For the crossfitty types:

If you think you are hard core, better try natural birth, bitch!

😛

The aerial artist and the pregnancy – part 4 – Third trimesterish

We are soo approaching the due date!

So what can I say?

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Photo by the amazing Danny Gibert!

Third trimester horrors

Everywhere you are explained how desperately hard this time should be. Expect peeing yourself, massive lower back pains, etc.

For me almost nothing about the third trimester horrors told are true.

It is only now, the last month, that I can get quite heavy in the evenings, yet it is nothing to exceptionally complain about.

I am slow walking. Very slow, that is true, groceries have never been this heavy either, but you have the faithful granny trolley to the rescue, so no problem!

Last week till due date note:
Ok, now I can only do the shopping that include little walking.

Chill and back off of training

I finally realized why circus people tell you to chill and back off.

So what do I have to proove and to whom?

That I am miss crossfit universe?

I can still rock inverts, when I really shouldn’t?

My mindset changed.

Baby and his health comes first, I will still have the rest of my life to tangle and perform and train, but my little one only has this 9 months to grow to his best health to face the outside world all alone.

So around 7 months I felt, that I should back out of aerials, I already stopped to invert at the 6th month as my little one started to not like it. (Heavy kicking afterwards)

Stretching

Now I do a weekly session or two of stretching/contorsion with Dasha, so my flexibility is still in quite a shape, except for the back, of which we have no current information.

So far I feel that this is soothing the widening of my hips and easing, that strange muscle ache like sensation that comes with it.

Food

Thank god that horrible gluten craving went away in the second half of the trimester, now I feel like radish, like radish with salt. o.O

The end of my career

From the beginning I really find it, can’t find the right words here, odd, or plain malicious, how people approached this. Questions like so are you selling your performance clothes kept creeping up… and I was like ‘NO, why would I?’.

It is really not nice to assume that a still emerging circus artist, to not say, still student (only because I am mostly self taught) would just drop her shit and leave what is her entire life as of until pregnancy.
From strangers this should really not matter, but from friends it’s kinda offensive, gives you the hint where they actually want to see you… in the gutter, ugly, run down and old, crying how having a baby ruined you… (which I think is still a way sorry excuse for anything)

I already had the judgemental bad eye from a ‘friend’, who had her flight of only a month of crossfit (already skipping classes), because I was all the way sick at the beginning… like I was obligated to not have nauseas, becuase she knew people that didn’t…

How long after will I be back?

Hell, no idea, might be 2 weeks-4 weeks-6 weeks or 6 months. Yes, I have all the time I need and zero hurries. Training as soon as I can and allowed.

Breastfeeding is important.

I hope to be able to start picking up training after 3-4 weeks or at most 6 weeks. The contorsion classes maybe earlier, so we see if we can get some benefits of that supposed relaxin, that so far only made my hips click, but nothing with my general flexibility.

Everyone has a story here, which is not necessary true…

My mom’s sob story is all about how my grandma was a horrid useless bitch, who was unable to help her and her postpartum was terrible the first time… yet she had grandpa and greatgrandma, so I wonder how that wasn’t just quite enough…

Other stories include the general she had to leave her studies and sacrafice her career, blabla. Well, that, my mom did not, she was one proud mom taking my brother to university. (Then again her stories needs to be approached with a certain caution, as the change more than the weather)

I see how I will need help, I know, but let’s just turn this around a bit.

Do I need help or do I need the lack of people asking shit from me?

The second case is the true one.

Watch your friends. I learned.

So, I had my self claimed ‘besty’ watch me in my kitchen with heavy nauseas trying to cook, comment ‘Oh, if you are really sick, you can sit down and finish the cooking later’…. erh, thanks bitch, how about getting your ass off the couch and helping?

Yet, a real friend came over to see me after work, I had lunch prepared, which she didn’t even want to accept and after it she cleaned all the dishes without a question, she did not sat down expecting her coffee to be served.

And ever since I refuse to see toxic ‘old’ friends, or even talking about toxic topics for me. I have all the time on earth, but not for that. Just say you are busy preparing baby stuff, it is a great excuse.

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That for now.

Performer stories vol. 1.

I decided to share my experiences as a performer, so with every performer story entry I will share two stories with you, a bad and a good or maybe just an interesting one.

I think it is important to see the two-sidedness of the industry and understand, that it is really not about you, when you think it is.

Bad story

Me and the major theater

This topic surfaced the other day in my kitchen between me and the Baby daddy.

I was suggesting that it might be a good idea contacting the theater for a possible contract after the baby, because they did contemplate having me as a regular piece of the show back in 2013, but the whole dealing just did not end right. He got pretty outraged and asked me why on earth I would wanna be in a shitty show, that nobody goes to watch, with all my international fame and feathers. That I would be lowering too much with it, etc., etc. Baby daddy does love me on all levels.

My points were, things have changed, as a mother I wanna do my best and that includes the longest breastfeeding period I can possibly afford this future little man.

The story itself

I was approached to take part of the first Barcelona burlesque festival, needless to say in 2011 I was in the clouds, so happy. This, recently reopened mythical theater wants me in a line-up next to Catherine D’lish, Ursula Martinez, Jess Love and all the others, woowww.
Especially regarding the fact, that a year earlier I left Bcn very disappointed with performance as a whole. (Discrimination? Yup, hon, if you’re not catalan and hipergay or willing to sleep with whomever you need to, just bury yourself)

Festival was pretty much the best ever I attended to this day. Show was dynamic, the line-up was over the top. Even the competing newcomers showed very high skills.
(So far, the festival is a blast every year, I still recommend going to this event)

Downside, no fucking proper rigging… My ahh so prepared silks act had to be modified into an improvisation on hoop… absolutely not bad for that year though.

Straight forward 2013.

I just jumped off a plain with an aerial hoop and a suitcase, ready to take back my city! I had the first shows nailed with a producer I used to work very well, looking for contracts, decided to rent a place in the forthcoming months.

First job right in mentioned theater. Great! Now they installed a truss, 9 meter high rigging point, supersweet!!

First technical check.

The owner walks in. We met briefly, but I never thought she remembered me or anything (my humble side).
Straight to me, she was very happy to see me back, was I staying for longer. I told her I was moving back.

Booom! How would I feel about a steady contract, all legal, insured, etc, 7 shows a week, would I be cool to learn some coreographies in the show etc. I should come down and see the most recent show, invited.
Anyways, office gets the papers done will call in 2ish weeks.

I literally left the place with tears of joy in my eyes…

Just to get them turned into real ones in about 2 months.

Nothing is done until it is done. – never forget that. Don’t get too excited.

So, a girl from the office was to call me. I had this funky feeling about her from the beginning… (hush, don’t listen to your instict, she must be lovely, blabla – said my conscious mind… while the unconscious said, trouble ahead)

3 weeks pass.

Nothing.

I kept doing the parties, so I was all around the theater every other week. Nothing.

I got my ‘manager’ (*khm* – best friend and occasional assistant) to call, erh-umph excuses, they would be in touch…

Another one or two weeks pass.

You see, at this point I was a full-time performer (like always as not for pregnancy), so I needed to schedule my shit in order to do anything.
So on a last attempt I dragged my ass up to the office to clear this up.

There was ‘my gal’ and it breaks down to the fact, that the owner never said, what she said, the offer was rather to have me a couple of times, if needed (wtf???) for certain events. The festival? Most likely yes, but they would contact me anyways…

Yuppi fucking yaaay!!! and thanks for making me loose about 2 months with excitement about nothing.

Life goes on, story does not end still. If you were to think that was not humiliating enough, you were wrong.

So the festival approaches, the way I actually get to know I was not in it? You bet. The promo video comes out.

Classy…

Then the Festival is on. I GET A CALL. omg, with suspicion… I hoped it was not the dragging around for nothing again….

They want me to go in for a rehearsal, the coreorgrapher needs to see me and try me.

Now this sounded more professional.

I’m there, the ‘world famous’ coreographer 3 meters in front of me, his assistant running up and down, every communication going through 4 different people’s mouth (I am not exagerrating here!!).

Nothing. Could I come back tomorrow, the corepgrapher is way too stressed to deal with anything else, than the rehearsals… Sorry for dragging you around so much.

Evening, invited to the show. I went alone, going to say hi to my gal, I see her talking to the one single ‘performer’ I would never share the air with.

And

Kabammm!!!

She was there for the very same reason!! Apparently the coreographer (remember so ‘world famous’ that he could not communicate only via 4 messengers?) would choose, based upon ‘PROFESSIONAL’ measures… (like skills, dance skills, you know, maybe a casting????)

Nooo!!!

No casting nothing. The decision was already made.

She took the deal for a 100 euros a night, that is 25 euros per number, two weeks contract.

I never got to be offered a price, and believe me I was not about to accept this.

She won. I lost.

The news were full of how the theater was on the verge of bankcrupcy. Now I could see. I met the dancers, that left that time, half of them, after 3 months without being payed.

The theater survived, I did two more gigs there, than I never returned.

Loosing against a better competitor is something you can take, inspires betterment.

Loosing against a joke of a ‘performer’ is simply soul draining.

Strange detail as well, while on the verge of bankcrupcy, they did get to hire Bambury Cross, and I do doubt she was to be anything cheap. (getting her from London, renting a place, etc.)

Bottom line, you cannot be a prophet in your home country or pseudo-home country either.

And now:

Good story

Turkey

A.k.a Wonderland.

Story begans in 2010.

The resraurant was called Joke Circus.

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Do you remember myspace? I do.

So one day, shortly before the 2010 LBF, I get a message written in the shittiest English ever, the kinda you wouldn’t even answer so bad. Let along through myspace.

It is a Turkish dude interested in hiring me, Chaz recommended me. Scattered, language barrier, not even the dates were very fixed… Altogether, something you would never take seriously, but I thought harm it cannot do to answer anyways.

It was for Istambul (superexciting!) for a brand new place. So, I decided if they agree to pay the trip upfront, then my, at the time maybe escalated (I thought, while I was still underpricing myself) fee, I was good to go.

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It took up until almost last minute to close the deal, I was to go almost straight after LBF, since I was already confirmed to appear there, it was the Icelandic vulcano year, so shit got pretty complicated all the way.

At the closing night of LBF, I remember Velma asking for my availability the next weeks and me being sorry for being booked right after… we either suspected that we were to meet withing the next week at the other far end of Europe 😃.

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LBF, with all issues, shenanigans, travel problems, etc., went off. Some major housing drama back home. Limbo between Budapest and Bcn started. Drama with icing on top.

(Additional relationship advice: you know these partners, with whom everything turns into major drama? Yup, ex-hubby was one of them, get the fuck away from these people, when it starts, without further waiting, because it will only get worse)

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So by the time I was to catch the flight to Istambul, I couldn’t even think of being worried about the what ifs. The proper Turkish airline flight with food and all was so soothing, after days of saving my stuff out of my own former (and actual) home and literally being homeless for days, that I could just not expect anything.

I arrive, I get picked up by a shoffeur, cool, excitement setting in.

It could be the best and the worst experience, anyways, two weeks in the exciting land of where my actual not artistic name comes from.

I arrive, cute little 4 starry hotel…

I get the suit!!!! WTF? Great. Relax. Unpack. Stretch. I was to be picked up every evening for performance, soon to meet Anji and Mert. (the dude with funky english)

I think we had technical check in the afternoon. The restaurant was lavish, luxurious, I swear each fork was to be over 4000 euros of worth. I guess in the west we miss some point about luxury… and hospitality.

Do I know Velma? She is here too. That was the beginning of a friendship.

I was also introduced to the other restaurant, where our daily lunch was to take place… on the top floor of a shopping mall, if can imagine delicious turkish food! I asked for the daily turkish meal every day.

I repeat, the west has serious things to learn about hospitality from the Turkish.

I enjoyed every bit of my stay, the sushine, the city,the food, all of it!

My mom came for visit too, hotel and food payed for her, too.

What else can you ask for?

I was more than lucky, yet it took me years to realize the importance of all this. To have this all sink in. The luck. The blind luck I had.

I also realized I could have asked for the double of the fee I was asking… beginner, I thought… (yet, I was very well payed)

Secong chapter was Cyprus last year.

Altogether.

Dream job.

Fin.

The difference between what there is and what we perceive

My titbit.

I was deeply depressed at the time of the Turkish contract, constantly being paranoid about my artistry.

I was a very insecure performer, especially as a circus act. They had 3 Mongolian contorsionists, and a Ukranian multiskilled yougster fresh out of circus school. Needless to say, I felt like shit.

What was I doing there? I was obviously below the level… I thought.

The fact that everyone had a longer contract also confirmed my feelings…

Yet, 4 years later I was called, because I was a great act and they did love me back in 2010.

So don’t beat up yourself, you might as well be a lot better than you think you are.

^.-

The zero waste experience, how society makes you feel batshit crazy

Apparently among all the bio, eco, healthy, crossfit, zumba, fitness trends society still works the very same way…

Driven by sheer ignorance and self-contentness.

So, I pose the questions…

Bitch!

You really think that by being a vegewhatsotarian you are doing shit to save the world? Whereas you double bag even the garbage?

Donating to a huge corporation helps the planet? And you are all done and can tap your back happily?

Yes, I am somewhat pissed.

I talk for Spain, because thereis, where I live.

Before you think, oh yes, so easy for you… nope it is not.

I am a pregnant girl juggling a fragile weekly budget of food, so it’s not like I can spend hundreds of Euros a week on bio shit in the poshiest bio store in Gracia.

Zero wasting is a new concept for most.

When you talk about it, each and every body poses as someone, who is well informed, explain how they recycle, etc.

Lovely, but it is a lie.

Posing.

Sadly, not too many have read about this, let alone do anything about it.

Yup, I recycle… sometimes… like once a year?

Back at the beginning of the year, I had it clear. (after two years of paleo already)

I want clean eating for my family, not necessarily die-hard paleo, but fresh unprocessed, sugarfree, as for me lactose free, lot less gluten, etc.

Then I wondered, what about cosmetics?

I turned my shampoo around and was like WFT?

Will my baby need all that shit on his skin?

Then soon the recycling thought was sinking in.

I was always pro-recycling. My dad is one of these crazy dudes washing the yogurt cups to recycle and having monthly trips to the nearest recycling park to drop the more special pieces, if any.

He has his own grocery garden, he composts for about 30 years, which as a little girl I found pretty gross.

So yep, jump down my throat and tell me how recycling is a monopolized industry etc. Owned by the goevernment, whatever, but!

Do you know anything better?

Yes.

Generating less or no waste.

But the people with this argument are not the ones doing it. I get this argument from people throwing everything in the landfill. And I’m harsh, because Baby daddy came up with this argument.

Until we had flatmates, making the concept into action was quite impossible.

We had two triple bagging die-hard vegetarians (one of them ate meat once a week, so her standpoint was pretty questionable, if not phoney) that even cleaned their potatoes with dishwashing liquid before desinfecting them… and never ever considered recycling as a serious thing.

2-3 bags of landfill a week. Maybe a tiny recycling, like water bottles, that nobody else but me bothered to take down…

Then we ended up, being us, Jordi and me and baby to come.

Life changed!!!

As for common costs.

No 5 rolls of paper cleaning wipes per week, not a huge pack of toilet paper used either, no unnecessary cleaning products by the loads.

And this…

So, I am a happy owner of some very useful recycled textile baggies for groceries, first thing I did.

Smaller ones serves you better.

I have gotten to reduce our garbage making more than considerably.

Instead of 3+ landfill bags a weeks, I take out a small bag (3kg-ish) of pure compostable every second-third day (and am devastated how Barcelona has the brown containers literally empty – as you see recycling is not obligatory here)

and the recycling bags are one or two in one two months, as of plastic and paper, maybe one jar a month as for cristal.

Without additional people in the household it got a lot easier, for sure.

I still struggle with limited material sources, with a baby on the way you think twice about buying anything for any other reason.

Titbits

The donut and the croissant

Yes, the cravings. As cheatmeal as it gets. I eat 2-3 a week, butter croissant and sugarcovered donut, all fresh from the bakery.

Now those are greasy! So textile baggies? Nope. (while great for an occasional bread).

Right now I use recycled paper bags, I guess later I will get those is smaller tuppers, like little sandwich boxes.

Cosmetics

I guess stopping to use cosmetics in excess is the key.

We use bio soap bars, aleppo soaps. It is already a great step, a tiny cellophane pack vs. The plastic bottle of shower gels.

My multiuse, skin/haircare product is coconut oil. Sometimes aloe vera for skin. (The leaf cut in half)

Coconut oil does miracles to pink hair.

We, finally use ayurvedic toothpaste, I’m about to get our first compostable toothbrushes. So with the toothpaste I do generate recycling garbage, but I had an epic fail on doing home made, grapefruit oil flavoured was no good. Will try again.

Excess water

Also bio dishwasher for now. I still need to try home made natural recipes. (the washnut brew seems like an option to try)

So, stop dishwashing in flow water, tap opened to max. Foan the things and then rinse. Tadaa!

Detergent

I cannot believe I had not discover washnuts before!!

For now, all baby related stuff and our underwear will be washed with washnuts and a drip of essenctial oil for scent.

Jordi’s supermegahiperdirty work clothing with cheap detergent. (jabon de marsella), which comes in a paper box.

(I can’t even remember when and why I started to use liquid detergent, I mean it is just stupidly unnecessary garbage once again, so I switched back now)

Special foodies

Rice oat and coconut milk are obviously not sold by the litre anywhere. Rice cream either. (I am lactose, or whatever milk ingredient intolerant – massive allergy testing is expensive if you were to ask, especially to find out, what I already know)

Protein powders. (I take none while pregnant)

Hemp seed (although I think I just found a place to buy by weight) or other superfoods that requires to be ordered online. I am saving up for bigger buys of all these.

Quality or packaging?

So good honey in a jar or shit honey by the weight in an overpriced hipster store?

Fair trade chocolate or chocolate by the weight?

Facing ignorance

Bafff. The hardest of it all.

People. Are. Idiots. Just jump back to the beginning of my post.

Start doing this and you will trip on the general stupidity around.