We’re back!  And Australia was very interesting, and not at all scary (except for their love of polyester, which was very alarming!), and most enjoyable. The first part of my holiday was pure, brainless holiday: sleeping in, long walks on the beach, visiting national parks, etc. Being me, I was most interested in and excited by the wildlife.  We saw birds and beasts and bugs and it was all most excellent. Right outside our hotel their was a baby myna bird in a lauhala (pandanus) tree, cheeping like mad and making his parents constantly scurry for bugs to feed him. Further away, in the parks in the hinterland (anything 15 minutes drive from the coast!), there were birds that had found an easier way to get food: just bug the humans for it! There were also more attractive birds that didn’t remind you quite so much of rats or pigeons. Then the beasts: We were extremely privileged to see not one, but seven pachymelon, which are miniature rainforest wallaby (and wallaby are miniature kangaroos).  Pacymelon …

I’d like to take a little break from this blog’s usual program of fashion and textile history, New Zealandia, cats and pretty pictures to talk about something really important to me. I have a pet peeve.  I hate it when I hear the terms “real women” and “real bodies” used, when what they mean is “women with a larger width to height proportion.” Actually, it’s more than a peeve, and I don’t just hate it.  I find it mean, and hurtful, and incredibly rude and ignorant, especially since it is often used by people who are trying to celebrate women’s bodies.  I read that phrase recently in an interview with a New Zealand woman who is trying to improve women’s body image.  She said that she wanted to show “curvy women, women like me, real women” that they were beautiful.  I just sat down and cried my eyes out. Who are you to say that I’m not a real woman, with a real body, just because I am a true size 10 with a slightly …