Say Whattttttttttttttt?!

Women’s sizing was created by a white man in the 1940’s?  You heard right sister!  Clearly, I’m imaging you’re having the same reaction that I did, when I first heard wind of this news.  But wait…. it gets even better.

This white man, whom we’ll call “Bob”, wasn’t even a fashion designer, engineer of fabric, nor even the husband of one.  Bob was employed by the United States Department of Agriculture (because clearly, agriculture and fashion go hand and hand).  And Bob’s job was to ‘deal with women’s sizing’.  So what did Bob do?  Well, what any ‘smart’, white man would do at the time: He conducted a survey, targeted at the poorer socioeconomic background of skinny white women, by offering them $5 to participate.  Keep in mind that was a good chunk of change back then.

After concluding the survey, and pulling in the ‘stats’, Bob said this in regards to his scheme possibly not working, “Well- if it doesn’t fit, she can sew it.”.

Well Bob, it’s 2016, and I sure as shit do NOT sew.  We’re changing the gamesewing manual

So, without taking into consideration what the average shape of a woman actually was, not to mention a woman of any colour, other than white (not PC, don’t care!), “women’s sizing” was born.  And as we like to say around GRRRL HQ:  WE.  CALL.  BULLSHIT!!!!!!!!

Namaste Bitchesssssssssss.

PS

YOU’RE ALL PERFECT!

It’s almost 10pm here in Phuket, and let me tell you: It’s been one weird ass day.  I can’t recall the last time I had such a low and such a high in the same 5 hour period.  This must be what  bipolar feels like….

First off, the day kinda disappeared into nowhere.  By 6pm my husband and I were ready to get out of the house.  We decided we were going to go check out what “a massage by a blind person” was all about.  In Phuket, there is a massage joint about every block.  Often, 2 in 1 block is not uncommon, but a massage by a blind person?  Hadn’t experienced that one yet.  We pulled out of the driveway, and turned the corner.  About halfway down the neighbouring street to us, we see a woman in the street on her knees getting bashed by a man.

Now, over the past nearly 6 years, my Husband and I have come across a handful of incidents were we thought we may have smelt foul play.  Often it was when we were leaving an event later in the evening, and happened to walk past a bar on our way back to the car.  Most times, there would be some kind of drunken lovers drama, but nonetheless, if a man seemed to be getting aggressive in the slightest bit, he and I would step in.  Never have we had to get physical.

Tonight was a bit different.  This man, who wasn’t too much bigger than the woman (minus his beer gut), was standing in the street with a can of something in his right hand, and a belt in his left.  We stopped in the middle of the street about 100 feet before them.  Looking around, there was only one other person outside, who happened to be a man washing his truck.  He didn’t seem to pay attention whatsoever to this ‘situation’.

As we crept closer, we watched this man kick this woman in the face with a front kick, then proceed to whip her with his belt.  She wasn’t crying, or making any noises.  As we got closer, I could see he had a phone in the same hand that had the belt.  At first it almost looked like he was recording the whole thing, but then it appeared like he was showing her evidence of something.  My husband and I sat there in shock.

The woman got up and walked off, then was whiped back into getting on her knees.  Still, no cries for help.  We started to put the car in park.  My husband said to me, “you ready to show this cunt what a woman can do?”.  Now in any normal situation, and normal meaning in a western, first world country where English is the first language, I’d already been out of the car running down the street.  But for some reason, my intuition said “stay put”.

I said, “no.  wait.”.  We sat there for a second and I quickly explained why we needed a plan B this time.  I dialled what I thought was the equivalent of 911 or 000, but no one answered.  I then directed him to drive back around the block and pull in front of the landlords house, except we weren’t entirely sure which house it was.  Then, I decided to call the agent who let us the house we’re renting.  I quickly explained to her what we had just witnessed and said, “is this normal for your country?”.  In her half broken English, she replied, “this normal”.

We drove off.  Both of us feeling sick.  Selfish.  Defeated.  Angry.  Upset.  and like a traitor.

After about 10 minutes of driving in silence, I got a hold of a local girlfriend who’s from Australia, but has lived here for the past few years.  She concurred that we did the best thing and that if the situation got out of hand, the cops will always help the locals.  Furthermore we could have been deported, insert etc etc etc.

For the next hour, I sat in cold blooded anger.  I also justified the “why’s”.  Living a block away from this guy, and knowing that this type of behaviour is serial, I doubt us intervening would have helped the situation.  Also another friend that I’ve met today, messaged me back and said that he’s known guys who’ve been stabbed for intervening.

So by this stage, I HATE this place.

Fast forward an hour, and we’re laying down getting a massage each by a blind man.  My guy was a bit younger, and my Husband’s guy was a bit older, but funny AF!!!! At one stage, he partially said “u o-ta mayt?”.  In other words, my husband was holding his breath, so the guy asked him if he was OK.  My husband struggled to say “yes”, and I lost my shit.  I started laughing, then the old man started laughing, then MY guy started laughing at the same time my husband started laughing, and we couldn’t stop.  We all 4 sat there and laughed so goddamn hard, I thought I was going to puke.

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I hadn’t laughed that hard since the last laughter yoga session I led nearly 2 years ago.  You know when you laugh so hard it’s like you had an ab workout?  It was like that-  Then for the next 45 minutes, the older man kept trying to teach my husband a few words in thai.  At one point saying “sexy sexy” and twerking his nipples.  I nearly fell off the table laughing.

To be laying there with my tits out, across the table from my husband, having 2 blind men massage us, and laughing our asses off, was one realllllllllllllly bizarre experience.  The most bizarre part of it, was going from such an angry state to one of complete bliss.  Laughter truly is the best medicine.

I know that acceptance is the answer to all of my problems today, but there are some things I’m just not ready to accept.  And that is violence against women.

I’m not entirely sure what I’m going to do about it and this particular situation.  My initial thinking (in congruence with my husband), was to stop by the police station and ask for their permission/blessing to go and beat this man’s ass, together, as a loving couple.

But violence does not solve violence my friends-

Oh, almost forgot… to top it all off, the nightcap of strangeness for the day, was catching an article/video of a funeral of a young man who was embalmed, and sat upright in a chair with his eyes OPEN to ‘rest in peace’.

Anyway, more to come.  Long story short, I’m adapting well to my new country, as usual.  And, I’m also getting ready to leave again, as usual.  Blasting off Wednesday for California.  See you all in LA <3

The post How I Hated & Loved Phuket All In 1 Day appeared first on Kortney Olson >> Konfidence By Kortney.

Good Day Grrrlfriends!

It’s your MFCEO Kortney “KO” Olson here.  Captain Thunder Thighs at your service.  Today I write to you from my new country Thailand.  I was meant to go watch #UFC196 with my partner at an Irish Pub this early afternoon, but decided to head back to the village (lol) so I could do some work.  This resulted in me ‘watching’ the game via text message with my Brother.

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After getting word that Holm got knocked out without tapping, I was caught between a slight moment of disappointment, and a slight moment of pride.  Then the thoughts started trailing in, hence why I’m here to share.

As a society, we are bred to put an immense amount of importance on being “winners”.  Think back to when either yourself, or your kids, were up for “field day races”.  Your excitement for “winning” that blue ribbon, or the excitement you felt when your kid(s) brought home a blue ribbon, filled you with pride and excitement.  Or how about your high school basketball team and the level of disappointment you felt when you lost the championship game.  Or as an adult, that feeling of “not winning” because you have a 1997 Toyota Corolla in the driveway of a house you pay rent on, with too many credit cards to pay back before purchasing something newer, more “winner-like”.

We are bred, especially as females, to see everyone else around us competition.  Inadvertently, we encourage kids from a young age to not work as a team, and to be concerned with satisfying the expectations of others, when it pertains to their lives.  I.e. our parents were more concerned about us winning, then we were.

Instead of getting rewarded for training our best, and actually showing up to have an experience, we get rewarded for “being the best”, as opposed to just being-  Keep in mind, we are human doings, not human beings……

Holly Holm is a goddamn champion.  She is the epitome of what a role model looks like.  She does not boast about herself, nor does she brag.  She simply just is-  She’s just a spirit having a human experience free from harsh judgement of herself and of others. (and yes, I’m sure there is some level of judgement- especially as a professional athlete.  you would not be human if you had zero judgement)

The GRRRL brand has been built off the foundation of this: We don’t do shit to fit in.  We don’t do shit to be better than other grrrls.  We support each other and feel connected.  We don’t place our worth on whether or not we are “winners” because we are already ALL born “winners”.

We are one.  We are #grrrlarmy !!!!

XOKO

Sitting here having a little cry.  Yup bitches, every few months I seem to get myself so overwhelmed that I have a bit of a cry.  I suppose a majority of it comes from trying to live my own will, as opposed to “God’s will”.  Now, if you’re not a spiritual hippy,  in 12-step recovery for a while, or have not been following my blog for the past 5 years, then you’re probably wondering ‘what the actual truck’ I’m talking about.

Simply put, that means on a daily basis, I ask for a power greater than myself to help guide me, and that I put 110% faith into he/she doing so.  Us humans think we have the answer to everything, and we either operate out of love or fear.  Whenever I feel full of fear like I am at the moment, I know that it’s time for me to get my ass to a meeting and get centred again.

I’m sitting here in a foreign country, where I cannot even read the back of an ingredient/nutritional content label, feeling stressed about everything you can possibly think of.  I’m even still stressing about the spider that was above my bed last night, after thinking I left those hand-sized spiders behind in Australia.

I’m stressing about growing an international clothing line and furthering a revolution, let alone running it on a day to day basis with not even having a desk established yet.  And I’m REALLY stressed about not having a whiteboard.  (hahaha!  who can feel me on that one?!)

I’m stressed that I have not found where to buy supplements, basic food, household items (shit’s really expensive out here come to find out).  I’m stressed that my dogs are going to be unhappy when they arrive in a couple hours.  They both have small-person-syndrome and don’t socialise real well.  They’ve gone from living on an acre, to living inside.  I’m stressed that I’m leaving in 10 days for America, and appearing on TV again, without knowing exactly what it is I’m doing, and that I’m not ripped up enough (then again, I’m NEVER ripped up enough in my eyes!).  I’m stressed that ________________________________________________________.

I could go on.  And on. And on some more……

But you know what?  NONE of this shit matters.  It truly does not matter one bit.  If I was living in a headspace of love, I’d be content knowing that God/Goddess has my back and that everything will be taken care of.   I’d remember that it’s a MIRACLE that I’m even alive right now to type this. As most of you know, I should have been dead on numerous occasions in my past due to my excessive drinking and drugging.

I’d remember that my ONE AND ONLY JOB ON THIS EARTH, is to stay clean and sober, and to help others achieve sobriety and freedom.  I would immediately cease suffering from this
dis-ease of “never enough”, and I’d remember that I am 110% enough/perfect, and that all of these fears are simply mind-based stories.  They are stories associated with the incessant chatter of my mind that is either living in the past or living in the future.  Both places are spaces where we cannot experience lasting joy.  Even thinking in the future about trip coming up to paradise will cease to give us lasting joy. (if that shit made zero sense, may I suggest picking up Eckart Tolle’s book “The Power of Now”)

On the flight over from Melbourne to Bangkok, I happened to watch the most remarkable documentary about a grrrl named Malala.  I’ve know very little about Malala other than she stood up to the Taliban several years ago, advocating her rights to be able to get an education.  She was shot point blank in the head, and miraculously survived.  The program I ran for teenage girls called Kamp Konfidence, had a section where we discussed “first world problems” and prospective.  We discussed how a lot of Western girls want to drop out of school because of the “drama”, and how they should be so FUCKING LUCKY to have the right to go to school in the first place.

This documentary reminded me that when you have a cause, and make something your life mission, you are prepared to do whatever it takes.  It also helped me dissolve some subconscious resentments I had towards the Muslim religion.

I’m rather content with living a simple life.  It’s like there is zero stress in trying to make shit match at our new place hahahaha!!

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OK, I’ve rambled on long enough.  I guess the point of this blog is to remind us all that whenever we feel stressed, it’s coming from a place of fear (unless you’ve been backed into a corner with a 10 foot tall black bear staring down at you).  And fear, can be dissolved by placing your faith into a force or power greater than yourself, and asking it to guide you to live out a will that is for the greater good of mankind, and not our own selfish ego-based will (meaning God’s will is more than likely for me to enjoy life while being an inspiration for others to live an authentic life, achieve equality and have freedom from addiction.  Whereas MY will thinks I should have been on Oprah AND Ellen by now… hahahahahaha!).

Also, perspective is a really powerful tool.  Having “things” and possessions, truly is a weight.  We don’t need them to be empowered.

And do be sure to watch that documentary on Malala.  She’s a modern day Mother Theresa and one mind blowing inspiration.  If I didn’t hate getting tattoos so much, I’d get her face tattooed on my body somewhere.

Love Me

 

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