OOTD: Oy Vey!

Hey dolls!

Wa gwan? Friday is upon us (YAAAAAAASSSSSSSS) so I just wanted to share a cheeky little OOTD. I really need to do these more often, but now that I’ve moved thousands of miles away/have no friends, I have nobody to take pics of me. So hey any readers in Accra who want to be my new photographer, please contact me. Please note you will need to buy me daily fried plantain. Shout out to my BFF/photographer Miss Fu- I MISS YOU.

Anyhoo I digress. This is one of my favourite outfits. I work in digital marketing, so even Monday-Thursday doesn’t really call for strictly corporate wear. But I never met a pencil skirt I didn’t like, so I tend to dress up a bit for 4 days and then go casual on Fridays. Let’s get into this relaxed Friday slayage…

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So the petit jacké is from Primark (where else). I featured it and my M&S jeans in a previous post. I love the pop of colour from the jacket, and the fit of the jeans… sigh. These jeans are everything I didn’t know I needed in life. Handbag is from H&M and my faux leather sandals are also from Primark. Pretty sure the entire outfit cost less than your Tesco meal deal lunch.

But my fave part of this outfit is the “Oy Vey” vest I picked up from Forever 21 last summer in Vegas! I say all the time that I’m a Jewish grandmother in a Ghanaian diva’s body. I’m always napping, asking male friends when they’re going to settle down with a nice girl, and saying things like “ooh I’m working up quite a schvitz.” So I yelped when I saw this vest. Love it.

So yah when work is over on Friday, just throw off your jacket, pop your hip and go! I would normally add a splash of red lippie, gold hoop urrings and a pair of cute animal print heels. And you’re ready to flee the office! For added #WinningAtLife points try hanging your jacket on your chair and slinking out. Nobody will know you left early!

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Ooh and if anyone wants to know about my hair (you should, because it’s fabulous), these are crotchet braids by my beloved hairstylist Cofo (based in North London). I dream it, and she always executes it to perfection! Check out her blog, and holla if you want her digits!

So what’s your go-to Friday outfit boo?

Love,
Adjpants

Girls on Safari: Dominican Republic, Part Dos

Ola mis amores!

As effing usual, the 2nd instalment of my trip to the Dominican Republic is late. I keep telling you African time is a real affliction. Yes I’m always late, please just love me anyway! Teehee.

So where were we? The last time you saw Miss Fu and I, we were sipping cocktails and working on our tans. Tanning was going well and #OperationDarkChocolate was coming along nicely. Fantastic though that was, we were gagging to get out and explore La Republica Dominicana. So we booked ourselves on a cheeky Outback Safari tour!

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#Excoitment

From the second we got on that truck, we just knew we were in for an amazing time. Our guide was called Angel, and we loved him on sight. He was jolly, hilarious, and most importantly full of local knowledge and passion for his country. He told us he’d been born and raised in the Dominican Republic, and that he would never want to live anywhere else. Kudos to you sir.

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We trundled through the Dominican countryside, and I couldn’t get over how stunning everything was. The colours were so vibrant, the air was clear and the scenery was incredible. We drove through little villages, and then it was off-roading time! As we made our way through thick rainforest areas, Angel pointed out the cocoa and coffee trees all around us.

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Before we knew it, it was time for our first stop! We were taken to a little school in the hills, and peeked in to wave at the kiddies. At least I did. Some overly exuberant people with our tour group strode right into the classroom and got snap-happy. It made me uncomfortable, like Ma’am please have a seat! These children are in class so maybe don’t lean over them with your camera? Cretins. Anyhoo…

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Our next stop was definitely my favourite. We stopped at the family home of a man called Chappy, who runs a cocoa and coffee plantation with his wife. They gave us a warm welcome, and showed us how the raw cocoa is processed into cocoa powder and cocoa butter.

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We got to sample some of the delicious products. Chappy and Senora Chappy laid out some hot chocolate, cinnamon coffee, and fresh sugarcane. Obviously Miss Fu and I have no home training so we were chowing down long after the rest of the group wandered off. Everything tasted heavenly, and I bought some coffee and pure cocoa butter. Needed to make sure I spent the London summer stunting on these heaux with my luminous skin!

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Uncle Chappy is a real G. Just look at him on the packet with his wife! He was kind enough to show us around his beautiful family home and grounds. I don’t think I have ever seen anything so lovely. The colours fam…

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The fun continued as we were taken to see how coconut oil is made. Honey you know I’m all coconut oil everythang so that was awesome. Then it was time to shop! We got to sample some traditional dranks. We sipped some aged Mama Juana (you might remember the “Dominican Babymaker” from Part Uno) and then I was introduced to vino de piña, which is pineapple wine. You have never tasted anything so divine. There were all sorts of delectable items available.20150519_121521

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We also got to see how cigars are rolled by hand, which was awesome. Just a few seconds with his deft fingers, and BAM! Done. Bawss moves.

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El Bae, Miss Fu.

We then had lunch at a country ranch, which was amazing. Heaps of fried chicken, grilled beef, salads, and rice. While we ate, Angel plied us with drinks to keep the party going. It was such a perfect afternoon, and the view from the ranch was breathtaking.

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We hopped back on the bus and made our way to our final stop: boogie boarding at Macao Beach! It was just… guys I want to say it was beautiful but that wouldn’t do it justice. Like, Carol can I get a vowel or nah? No words! Look at it!

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I grabbed a board and looked out at the ocean. I was nervous cos I didn’t fancy drowning on such a beautiful day. The ridiculously hot guide who had joined our tour group asked, “You need help, mami?” I was all “YES HI I NEED EVERYTHING FROM YOU,” so he took my hand and led me out into the water. We went out so far that my tootsies were no longer touching the ground. I lay on the board and Hottie McAdonis held it still, while watching for the perfect wave. He suddenly asked, “Ready?” I was like “Gah! No!” He yelled, “Hold tight!” And I turned my head and saw this huge swell of water right behind me. I barely had time to scream “Jesus fix it” before he let go…

And WHOOSH! I was borne up on the crest of this gigantic wave, shooting towards the shore at high speed! It was like nothing I’ve ever felt before; complete exhilaration and pure joy. I was laughing and shrieking, and I felt like I was flying! I couldn’t get enough, and spent the rest of the afternoon on my #Surfboardt

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And just like that, it was the perfect end to yet another perfect Dominican day. We got on the truck to make our way back to the resort. The rumble of the engine started to put me to sleep… I tasted salt on my lips and felt sand between my toes. As I drifted off, my last thought was, “I don’t want this trip to ever end.”

I can’t wait to share the final instalment of my Dominican adventure- coming soon darlings (I promise, I promise)!

Amor,
Adjpants

Homecoming.

My dearest loves. It’s been a while since my last post, and I’m sorry I’ve left you for so long without providing some sort of foolishness or tea-spilling. Why have I been absent? Because I moved away from London 2 weeks ago…

*cue gasps*

That’s right. The last couple of months have been an insane emotional rollercoaster, a whirlwind of goodbyes. I wanted to write about what was happening in my life, but can I be honest? I was avoiding it because it hurt and I was scared. But someone once told me to “write through the pain,” so here goes.

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(FYI this is my brave face. The hearts are cute non?)

A bit of background for those of you who are just getting to know me. I travel a lot and I call four different places home (Ghana, Nigeria, Australia and England).

I was born in Australia to Ghanaian expat parents. We then moved to Mexico for a few years before settling in Nigeria. I had a blissful (and hilarious) childhood there before heading to boarding school in England.

After I graduated from uni, I worked in Australia for a few awesome years before heading back to the UK for another stint. After a rough start in London, I slowly started to feel a strange and unfamiliar sensation. I was starting to settle in. Settle down. Everything started clicking into place and for the first time in my life, I could actually see myself staying in the same country for years to come.

But bruv, you know how life sometimes throws you a curve ball? Things changed very suddenly and it became clear that this just wasn’t going to happen. I would have to leave, yet again.

While my international background is interesting, it is by no means unique. Apparently people like me are called “Third Culture Kids” and we’re everywhere. Children of expats, we went to international schools and were taught the capital cities of every country in the world (shout-out to my IITA peeps WOOP! I know you remember Stripies). We didn’t know what racism was, because our friends looked like a United Colours of Benetton ad. For us, constant travel was normal and stability was never guaranteed.

The last couple of years in London, I started to realise how much I craved that stability.

But sometimes things don’t work out the way we want them to. I was now faced with a choice- where to next? Back to Australia made the most sense. I lived there for 3 happy years, and Melbourne wasn’t voted “Most Livable City in The World” for nothing. It’s funky, fresh and fabulous. And yet I didn’t feel quite ready. Something was telling me it was time to go home to Ghana.

But “home” can be a problematic concept when you have never actually lived in your home country. I tried to move back about 6 years ago. Saying it was a bit of a train wreck would be like saying Uncle Donald Trump’s hair is a bit off.

I wasn’t prepared for the culture shock, wasn’t ready for how my own people would see me as an outsider. They said I was too British, too feisty, too Westernised, even too Nigerian. My grasp of my parents’ language, Twi, was… well…it was dusty. This added to my frustration and sense of isolation. I only lasted a few weeks before fleeing to Melbourne.

So. When I found out I would have to leave London, that still small voice of calm said, “Go home.” After my previous experience, I was definitely nervous. Nah let’s be real- I was terrified. What if it doesn’t work out? What if I fail? What if I still can’t fit in? What if I still feel rejected? What if I can’t find a good job?

As I started packing, I was feeling pretty overwhelmed. At one point I sat on the floor of my rapidly emptying bedroom, surrounded by bits and pieces of my past, and I just sobbed. It seemed so unfair- why was this happening to me?

Now check this out. Somehow at my lowest moments, when I’m just about to fall to pieces, my mother knows. Even though we live in different continents, there seems to be an invisible string connecting my emotions to hers. Right at that moment she called, and she waited patiently while I cried and cried and cried. Then she said, “Dry your tears. God has never failed you, and He won’t fail you now.”

With those words, she reminded me that there is someone looking out for me. She reminded me that you can’t miss out on your destiny. Whatever is meant to be, will be, and you have to trust the journey.

So my darlings, as I write this I am in Accra, Ghana. In the distance I can hear rushing traffic and the ever-present thump of hiplife music. My grasp of Twi is still rusty, but it’s better than it was 6 years ago. When I arrived in Accra recently, I managed to negotiate the price of a taxi without being royally ripped off with the “abrokyire” (overseas) price. That, my friends, is progress.

I’m effing scared, and there’s no shame in that. But I’m going to try and give this a shot, and I’m taking you guys along for the ride. We’ll explore the city together. We’ll go and see all the landmarks. We’ll hunt down the best brunches and the stiffest cocktails, and we’ll find out where all the hipsters hang out. Welcome to Love, Adjpants: The Motherland Edition!

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Is it possible it won’t work out? That I’ll fall flat on my face? BISH IT MIGHT BE- but there’s only one way to find out.

They say you can never go home again. I’m going to try and prove them wrong. As Dr. Maya Angelou said, “all God’s children need travelling shoes.”

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And if those travelling shoes happen to be serving Pocahontas realness… well that’s a bonus, hunty.

Love,
Adjpants

On Beauty.

My loves. This is the post that I started to write over a year ago and continuously lost my nerve. Today I read about Auntie Oprah’s epic faux pas and I thought, “the time is now.” In Oprah’s O Magazine, there was a fashion segment about crop tops. The line was “If (and only if) you have a flat stomach, feel free to wear a crop top.” This foolishment finally gave me the courage to share this post. Today we’re going to be talking about positive body image. It’s something that I’m passionate about, and something that’s very close to my heart.

It’s about to get REAL in here so I’ll give you a chance to settle in and get comfortable *sips tea* And we’re back. Like an alarming number of young girls, I grew up thinking that I was ugly. There, I said it. I was a shy and anxious kid, always hiding behind a book so people wouldn’t look at me. As a teenager I felt like if I wasn’t going to be attractive, then I should at least be funny. I used humour as a defense mechanism, constantly trying to please others because I was worried that I just wasn’t good enough.

I hid my body in clothes so shapeless that even Miranda circa Sex and the City Season 1 would be like “NO BISH.” At one point I was wearing baggy Dad Jeans from the supermarket, with my brother’s hand-me-down t-shirts #FixItJesus. I felt like my body was offensive to others. And then one day I met someone who changed my life. She was an ultra- glamorous girl I met at university, who noticed me trying to blend into the background, and slowly brought me out of my shell. One day I tagged along while she went shopping, prepared to sit outside the dressing room while she tried things on. But she hung up an armful of clothes and pushed me into the cubicle. I tried to protest but she gave me a sassy little dress to try on.

When I walked out to show her, nothing could have prepared me for her reaction. She was screaming “yaaaaassss” and told me I looked beautiful. I said that people would stare, that they would mock for me pouring my round body into such a form-fitting dress. She just laughed. “If they’re going to stare, why not really give them something to look at?” Why the eff not indeed? In the face of her matter-of-fact certainty, I actually bought the dress.

It was like somebody had flicked a switch, and in the light everything looked different. It was a whole new way of thinking. Was my body soft and fleshy? Yes. Did that mean I had to be ashamed of it? NO. The seed had been planted.

A few years later, I stumbled across an Instagram hashtag called #HonorMyCurves and I was hooked. Thousands of pictures featuring beautiful women, of all shapes and sizes. What they all had in common was confidence. These women were wearing all the latest fashions. Hotpants, bikinis, body con dresses. The next thing I noticed was the positivity of the comments- everyone was so supportive! And it only got better from there- I soon realised that there was a whole community of women celebrating each other through the  #bodyacceptance #goldenconfidence and #EffYourBeautyStandards movements.

Now, we all know that some people are sour and miserable and cruel, so there is always that one knob-jockey who tries to slide into the comments with “you’re all disgusting/you should lose weight/you’re putting your health at risk/you will die” Let this be a quick reminder to the haters that YOU CANNOT MAKE JUDGMENTS ON PEOPLE’S HEALTH BY LOOKING AT THEIR BODIES. Yes, there are some risk factors associated with being overweight, but there are also many slim people who are at risk of chronic diseases. May I invite you to have a tall glass of shut the hell up? It is nobody’s responsibility to police another person’s body. Stay in your lane.

I love my body. I don’t want it to look any different. The reason I try to exercise and eat clean is because it makes me feel strong and amazing. I need that strength to kick body-shamers in the face.

On vacation in the Dominican Republic recently, I was trotting around in bikinis and hotpants. Fresh out of f*cks to give, I was serving a disrespectful amount of backside and largesse of thigh. And guess what? I felt amazing. This from the girl who used to go to the pool in baggy shorts and an oversized t-shirt!

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None of this would have been possible a few years ago.

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image I love you guys and I want nice things for you, so I’m adding a list of my favourite body positive Instagrammers. Trust me- you need these women in your life.

1. @HonorCurves: We love her because she is a ray of sunshine and positivity, a true inspiration.

2. @GabiFresh: We love her because she is an incredible fashionista who changed the game when she coined the term “fatkini” and showed plus size women everywhere that swimwear belongs to us, too.

3. @essiegolden: We love her because she is gorgeous and so supportive of her followers.

4. @NadiaAlboulhosn: We love her because she is fun, FIERCE and wonderful, and her style game is ice-cold.

I once read something where a woman said, “I want to wear a figure-hugging dress, but first I need a figure worth hugging.” Honey I’m here to tell you that you are fearfully and wonderfully made. Your body is worth all the love and hugs in the world. Because God gave it to you.

And He never makes mistakes.

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Adjpants

p.s. Eat it, Oprah.

Africa Writes 2015

Hi darlings!

So I’m gagging with excitement to share my thoughts on last weekend’s event “Africa Writes 2015,” the African Writers’ festival hosted by the Royal African Society at the British Library.

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It was a bit of a whirlwind visit, but I’m so glad I attended. My bestie Miss Fu and I stepped into the auditorium just in time to catch the reading from Frances Mensah Williams, who was promoting her new novel “From Pasta to Pigfoot.” It’s the tale of a UK-born and bred Ghanaian woman who returns to Ghana, and the challenges she faces trying to settle into life in her home country. Guys… you know when you read a book that you could swear was written about you? For you? I got effing chills!

Let me spill some tea on my life real quick. I am Ghanaian. 100%. Both my parents are Ghanaian. However I have lived in several different countries, I have two passports and I call at least 4 different cities “home.” I can swear in 6 languages. I have never lived in Ghana for any extended period of time. A few years ago, after living in the UK for what seemed like ever, I tried to move back to Ghana to work. It was a nightmare- I was unprepared for how different everything was, and how I couldn’t fit in with my own people. I was too Nigerian (I grew up there), too British, too feisty, too… just too much. I was heartbroken and frustrated, and left after only a few months.

So when Ms Williams read from her novel, expanding on some of the struggles of a young woman trying to return home, I felt like I wanted to jump out of my skin with excitement. She described her novel as “a journey of self-discovery… not just a coming of age but also a coming of culture.” On being an African writer, she said “There is so little out there about us.” When she said “Going home is not the same as feeling at home,” I wanted to jump up and scream YAAAAAASSS.

At the end of the reading, there was time for questions. I piped up and asked Ms Williams what her advice would be for someone who wanted to try and return home for the second time (Me! More on that later) She was lovely. She looked me right in the eye across the crowd and said, “Moving back home is not just a physical move, it’s a mental one. When things get tough, when you are frustrated by the system, just remember: these are my people. This is my country. Forget your second passport and remember that you are home.”

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It was then time for a panel discussion called “African Non-Fiction: Moving the Boundaries?” The panel featured Kwasi Kwarteng, Noo Saro-Wiwa, Jackie Kay, and Pede Hollist. I really enjoyed MP Kwasi Kwarteng’s reading from his book “Ghosts of Empire,” which touched on the colonisation themes from one of my favorite novels, Chinua Achebe’s “Things Fall Apart.” Now… all the intellectual chit chat was amazing but I’m not going to lie to you, I was thinking how nice it would be to have Uncle Kwasi read me a bedtime story! That clipped Etonian baritone though… I’m here for it.

Another highlight was the reading from Noo Saro-Wiwa’s book,”Looking for Transwonderland: Travels in Nigeria.” She was sassy and fabulous and I want to be her BFF. Noo, if you’re reading this, let’s totes do brunch? One of my favourite snippets was when she said, “I prefer to see where serendipity takes me… I had only a vague outline of where I would go.” She then gave us a few hilarious anecdotes on “prosperity gospel” in Nigeria, and the unintentional humour found in intense Pentecostal churches.

At this point there was a comment from a young woman a few rows behind me, who said she felt like it had been open season on Pentecostal Nigerians during the panel discussion. As a Pentecostal Nigerian herself, she felt it was unfair to tar everyone with the same brush. I turned around and was like O_O

Because it was only Chibundu Onuzo herself- author of “The Spider King’s Daughter.” At this point I was like “Lawd I am READY for this debate!” Whipped out the popcorn and watched. Definitely a lively and fascinating discussion…

imageAll in all, it was an incredible event and I enjoyed every moment. There were so many amazing talks and workshops, but unfortunately Miss Fu and I had to depart (social butterflies, you understand).

I’d like to say a huge thank you to the peeps at Africa Writes- it was a great event and I can’t wait until next year! I’m so proud of the work you guys are doing.

I want to end with this inspiring piece of advice from Frances Mensah Williams: “Just write. Not enough of us are writing. African writing shouldn’t just be a niche. Eventually it should be known as just writing, not African writing.”

You betta write, hunty.

Love,
Adjpants

How Adjpants Got Her Groove Back: Dominican Republic, Part Uno

Darlings!

It’s your Caribbean Queen here, back in the country and reporting for duty. I just got back from paradise, and I can’t wait to share the amazing experience with you!

Last year, my homeslice/travel buddy/BFF Miss Fu mentioned a Caribbean getaway to celebrate our birthdays in May. We chose the Dominican Republic and did some research. When we came across Dreams Punta Cana Resort & Spa, it was a done deal. Their website described the resort as being “secluded in a lush tropical paradise.” YAAAAASS BISH.

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Miss Fu and I tore thangs up in Cuba a few years ago, so we were totes looking forward to the trip. The Dominican Republic is a Caribbean nation bordered by Haiti, and it’s known for its white sandy beaches and sizzling bachata and merengue music. The people are ethnically diverse; of African, European, and Native American descent. All these things piqued my interest and made La Republica Dominicana my dream holiday destination.

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Before we knew it, it was May 14th and we were OFF, hunty! As our plane touched down in Punta Cana, we peered out of the windows, practically climbing over each other for the first glimpse. I squealed at the sight of the heat shimmering off the concrete, and the thatched roofs of the airport buildings. As we taxied to our gate, I noticed crowds of deeply tanned “gorgoisie” (my word for the gorgeous bourgeoisie dahling- you can borrow) sipping dranks on balconies. At the airport. #WinningAtLife

We made our way through customs and immigration, and out into the sun. Moments later, we met the uniformed driver who would be taking us to our resort. He was a tall, jolly black man (who looked not unlike my Uncle Kwabena), and he broke into a smile when he spotted us. He shook our hands and cried out, “Mi colores! Mi familia!” He gestured to his skin and we realised he was excited because our complexions matched his. Throughout our time in the Dominican Republic we would hear delighted calls of “Oye morenas” (hey brown girls) and the ever-passionate “Familia!” I loved it.

About an hour later we were driving up a long, curving driveway to our resort. Listen- I have never seen anything so beautiful in my entire life. Gleaming mahogany floors, soaring ceilings with ornate fans, and everywhere lush flowers and swaying palms.

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We could barely contain our excitement as we were led to our room. It was stunning- decked out in white decor with splashes of red and lime green. I opened the curtains and…

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It was like looking out on the Garden of Eden. Also… how could there just be a peacock chilling on our patio? PARADISE, that’s how. We soon realised the resort was full of flamingos and peacocks, taking naps and preening for the gawds.

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By this point all the travel, excitement and shrieking had tired us out, so we were like “quick nap, then we’ll head out to explore.” Needless to say jetlag knocked us out, and we woke up in the middle of the night like “BRUH”

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(Introducing the gorgeous Miss Fu, who stays ready so she never has to GET ready!)

Early the next morning we headed out for a jog, excited to check out our new home for the next ten days. They say a picture paints a thousand words so lemme just leave these here real quick…

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Right?! Next was breakfast! Freshly showered and gleaming with shea butter (we didn’t come to play), we headed to one of the resort’s many restaurants. As long as I live, I will never forget the reception we got. Let me tell you a little something about Dominican men. These men are SO FINE that they look at you and you forget your name and address. The good news is that you’ll never need those details again, because you are now drunk in love. And they’re not just easy on the eye. Their swag is on ONE HUNNID. Charm? Yaaaaass. Twinkle in the eye? Check. As we sashayed past the juice station, I caught the eye of one of the waiters and he gave me the most thoroughly salacious wink I’ve ever seen. Miss Fu and I giggled, and suddenly men were hurtling across the room towards us. Pulling out our chairs, declaring us “caliente” (hot) and “linda” (pretty), elbowing each other out of the way. I think someone was injured in the fight to pour Miss Fu’s drink. By the time we finished eating, I was ready for permanent Dominican citizenship. They had me like “AND I AM TELLING YOU I’M NOT GOING” (you’re gonna love me Carlos).

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We spent the next couple of days in the blazing heat, sipping cocktails and frolicking between beach and pool. Things escalated when someone urged us to try the national drink: Mamma Juana. A potent blend of rum, red wine, honey, tree bark and local roots and spices, Mamma Juana is also known as The Dominican Babymaker. It’s reputed to have aphrodisiac qualities but of course I couldn’t possibly comment (I can) on whether that’s true (it is). As the bartender poured us a shot each, he laughed and said “It gives you potential!” HEY NOW!

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As we languished on pool mats, I trailed my fingers through the water and bopped along to the merengue blaring from a nearby speaker. The sun was warm on my skin and the Mamma Juana was warm in my belly. I remember being happy and calm. In that moment I thought, “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

Hope you enjoyed the first instalment, pumpkins! Look out for Dominican Republic: Part Dos, coming soon! Besos!

Amor,
Adjpants

Eat Clean, Think Dirty!

Oh hey dolls! So let’s have a little chat, a little kiki. Those of you who know me personally (or follow me on Instagram) know that I love to eat. You know those people who have no interest in food? The ones who are like “yah I just ate a tomato and an old sock for dinner, couldn’t be bothered…” I don’t understand those people and I’m pretty sure they’re lying. I LOVE TO EAT. And more than anything in this world, I love sugar.

I’ve always had an epic sweet tooth. I think it comes from the fact that I wasn’t allowed to eat junk food as a child. My mummy, who is THE MOST AWESOME LADY in the world (Mama I luhh you), ran the household with military precision. There was no sugar or junk food to be found. We were the weird kids who had homemade banana bread in our lunchboxes, when everyone else had pizza. Every so often my mum would get my brothers and I a treat- a Snickers bar cut into 3 pieces. One. Piece. Each. Mama didn’t play! Things would escalate real quick at treat time, yo. There were fights, lies, and betrayal. The trick was to pretend you had already eaten your one piece, and bide your time. A few hours later you would saunter across the living room with one- third of a Snickers in your hand and eat it sloooowly in front of the other two #LikeABoss #ThugLife

So anyhoo all of this unfortunately led to an obsession with sweets when I left home. I was like “ermagad I can buy whatever I want?!” It got messy. I would plough through an entire pack of biscuits with a cup of tea, or realise with horror that I’d eaten a “serves 12” cake all by myself. Afterwards I would feel sluggish, sick and just generally gross. I needed an intervention, and a few years ago that came in the form of Lent. My bae Rosie from A Red Lip and a Nude Shoe was giving up chocolate for Lent and I thought, it’s now or never. Lawd I was terrified! I didn’t believe I could do it. But once we got started it was a strangely awesome and addictive experience. Weeks later, Rosie and I broke our Lent fast as we boarded a flight to Port Douglas, Queensland. I felt absolutely amazing. Refreshed and full of boundless energy, which definitely came in handy on the Great Barrier Reef…

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I wore the HELL outta that wetsuit honey.

That first Lent fast was years ago now, and before I knew it, staying sugar-free had become a part of my lifestyle. Because I loved the feeling so much (totally worth the suffering), I now try not to eat sweets as a general rule. Generally I try to steer clear of refined sugar: white sugar, cakes, cookies, chocolate. I do eat unrefined natural sweeteners like raw honey or rice malt syrup. Don’t get it twisted though- I do occasionally treat myself on birthdays, holidays, Mondays, etc. But darlings the good news is that you can avoid sugar and still eat delicious, nutritious, so-good-you-want-to-slap-your-mama food! It’s just a matter of making healthier choices and buying good, “clean” ingredients. Real food. Whole grains, good fats and superfoods. Here are a few of my favourite things…

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Cheeky Saturday afternoon smoothie: organic peanut butter, banana, raw cacao powder, moringa leaf powder, coconut milk, rice milk

 

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My cupboard essentials: baked coconut chunks, organic rolled oats, almond butter, organic rice malt syrup, raw cacao powder, chia seeds, flaked almonds

 

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Sweet bedtime treat: Bananas and peanut butter, sprinkled with cinnamon and flaked coconut

 

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Raw cookie bites: rolled oats, almond butter, rice malt syrup, chopped cashew nuts, chia seeds, sesame seeds, dried coconut

 

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Gorgeous green smoothie: banana, coconut, kale, rice milk, moringa leaf powder, cinnamon

In the quest for a healthier lifestyle, clean eating definitely works for me. I like to know exactly what’s in my food, and I now always go through the ingredients before buying anything. Generally, if I can’t pronounce it, I don’t buy it.

I had some AMAZING support and inspiration along the way, especially from these amazing Instagrammers:

@IquitSugar
@delicioushealthyfit
@cleanfoodcrush_rachel
@nadiashealthykitchen

The #cleaneating hashtag was also a gamechanger for me. Get stuck in.

So darlings when in doubt, remember! Eat clean, think dirty *winks saucily*

Love,
Adjpants

p.s. I’d love to hear what you guys think, and any healthy tips and tricks you’d like to share! Holla at your girl in the comments innit. Let’s talk about kale xo