I read something recently that I found quite astounding and that is that BIG Pharma tampers with placebos or sugar pills in order to manipulate the outcome of double blind, placebo controlled drug tests. I have written extensively about placebo’s … In our Art of Wellness Collection we have some natural alternatives that we all can incorporate into our lives gracefully! My best and simplest recommendation besides eating a healthy organic diet is to include the addition of MOXXOR, for both … I am now one week post Spring Clean Juice fast/detox and the transitioning back to solid foods that you chew again and so far it has been a breeze.  As you know from my previous blogs I have really enjoyed … On day 30 of my spring clean 30 day detox program Nazim and I met our good friend Fernando Vossa in order to share some of the modalities that we deem so important in our health regime. I think it is safe to say I did it as I approach my 30 day juice fast’s conclusion!

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What a sense of control and pride to do something so deeply profound for oneself. I have been so devoted to helping others that I forgot … The sun shines brightly today on the 25th day of my Spring Clean detoxification Juice fast. After a restful sleep on the BEMER my husband Nazim and I  had a big glass of Fiji water and then we did our … "I did my first set of sit-ups at the age of 13... The near-mythical flat tummy would be the answer to all my problems." Typically, I give myself about five days off over Christmas each year. During those days, I go ham on things like extended fantasy movie marathons, Faster Than Light, and gleefully drowning in utter garbage like the Daily Mail sidebar of shame.It was in said sidebar that I stumbled upon the sentence "Ricki Lee Coulter - who was once a loud and proud size 14 - is now a slim and trim size 8", and marvelled at how it was the literal opposite of the last 12 months of my life.My story is not a particularly remarkable one: Area Woman seeks control over body through food (or lack thereof) and exercise, maintains keen interest in foundation garments and "body con" dresses.

And yet it feels remarkable to me, because at the ripe old age of 32 ½, I am - to use tabloid magazine lingo - The Biggest I've Ever Been, and I now like to rest my hands on my stick-out stomach like I have some wonderful news to announce.  I did my first set of sit-ups at the age of 13. It certainly had nothing to do with sportiness (I was, after all, the student who had caused her Phys Ed teacher to make extensive notes about my "inappropriate arm swing" while running), nor a desire to look like fashion models (given my comprehension of "fashion" at the time extended to stretchy alice-bands and stirrup pants). Rather, it was the beginning of a fractious relationship with my body that inevitably centred on my stomach.The near-mythical flat tummy would be the answer to all my problems. Sit-ups, crunches, planks, cross-training, rowing machines, endless laps of the pool holding a kickboard out in front while doing "dolphin" kicks with flippers . . .  At one point I even considered one of those sets of sticky electrodes that claim to allow you to work out while relaxing but look more like something from an '80s John Carpenter movie.

This madness came to a head during my time living in Los Angeles, where I became convinced that my lack of romantic success was down to my waistline (and not, say, the fact that many of the men I dated were complete lunatics).I'd slog up and down canyons on 39-degree days before returning home for a thrilling lunch of Ezekiel flatbread smeared with avocado. I dedicated many hours of hula hooping towards achieving the body measurements mentioned in The Commodores' Brick House.It worked, of course, and I spent most of my time in the City Of Angels looking like a really stressed-out ghost. I was sick constantly, the record being a three-month calamity involving flu, then gastro ("Hooray! Instant flat stomach!"), then flu again. Periods of poverty were handy reasons to eat less. And so the madness continued, and it was never enough: in 2012 I wore "double Spanx" to Comic Con, under a flight suit.I discovered I had surpassed the storied Goal Weight while standing on a set of scales at Planned Parenthood;

at that moment, something snapped. I thought, "Well, now what?" Where do you go from 59kg, when you're 180cm tall - 45kg? I was still dateless. Rolling on the floor at Kundalini yoga had not brought me any closer to being able to shag Russell Brand, and had only bruised my bony hips. As I stared at the scales, I realised my desire for a flat stomach had reached such an utterly pointless nadir that I went straight to Fred 62 and ordered a burger with a root beer the size of my neck.Despite eating and exercise habits that could best be described as "disordered", I was never diagnosed with an eating disorder; the closest I came to any medical observation was mentioning the LA weight loss to my physio, whose learned reaction was, "What did you do that for, you idiot?" And so, after a brief 2014 relationship with a man-child who thought I should go to the gym, and encouraged ("encouraged") me to track my measurements and weight weekly via a whiteboard hung near the fridge, natch, I threw 19 years' worth of body-related idiocy in the bin.

If my journey towards acceptance of my own body has been tortuous, so too has been my wrestling with the notion of "body image". The notion of Body Image as a feminist act has become such a tiresome cliche, as though a swimsuit photoshoot could change the world, I long resisted talking about my body at all. Any discussion of bodies inevitably hinges on their place within the gaze; what is most beautiful, or most "real"; what appeals to men.I discussed this with my friend and colleague Mel Campbell, a journalist, cultural critic and author of the book Out of Shape: Debunking Myths about Fashion and Fit. "'Image' is about thinking of the way your body looks: to watch yourself being watched and to care how you look to others," she said. "It reduces your personhood to decorating the world for the gaze of others. Even 'body confidence' implies feeling OK with displaying your body. 'Body satisfaction' is maybe better as that's more about how you feel about and within your body."And "feeling OK" is precisely where I am at in the year of our Lord 2015;

some days it's "interesting" to process, after years of body issues, having gone up four dress sizes, and I still think things like "I look like the Michelin man!" when I look at certain candid photos of myself. But for the most part, I no longer care about my value (or lack thereof) in an economy of visual desire.When I interviewed Nick Frost about Cuban Fury last year, we spent a lot of time talking about the notion of "alternative" depictions of bodies as somehow revolutionary. "I think we're all meant to strive towards this unattainable vision of abs and ice-white teeth, which is fine, but I probably know three people that like their body, and I know hundreds of people," he said. "Even people who have amazing bodies probably look in the mirror and think, 'My lats could probably be a little firmer'."We then decided to start a magazine called Feeling OK About Myself. "And it's just normal men and women doing what they do in their life. 'Helen, 38, enjoys an apple'. Just a couple of big guys eating a hotdog each and laughing.