The disappearing act that is anything but magic.

The disappearing act that is anything but magic.

Funny. This was going to be a post about how blissfully happy I was.

Yep, surprisingly, ridiculously, over the moon happy.

For the month of Jan, I was alcohol-free, back in the dating game, killing it at work; in control of my life. Things could not have been more magical.

My best friend joked that I should shut down the #STFTL blog “What will you have to write about now that you’re happy?”

SPOILER ALERT: turns out. A fucking LOT! Welcome to the black magic show.

For the last 31 days, I was seeing this guy.

A guy who was all levels of wonderful. He was sweet, kind, thoughtful. He left me voice memos every morning before work and in the evening when he was on his way home. He messaged me while he was at his desk in the office. He called me before he went to sleep at night. He wanted to see me on the weekends. Saturday and Sunday.

We didn’t drink when we were together. There was no need for wine to spark chemistry. We had coffee dates, went for walks in the park and sat for romantic meals. We made out in public. We were intimate behind closed doors.

He pursued me. It was a lot. I liked the attention. I was wary at first. But it was like a drug, the more he gave, the more I wanted. I got used to the interaction, almost like it was normal. I forgot what I did with my time without it. Friends claimed we were in a love bubble. I thought so too. Until that bubble popped, with a bang.

Our relationship escalated quickly, but not in a way where it was ‘too good to be true’, in the way like it was ‘supposed to be’. He met my friends and didn’t seemed rattled, I cooked for him at his place, and he didn’t get food poisoning. I thought to myself: is this what people mean when they have found ‘the one’?

I told myself “Don’t be stupid!” This isn’t ‘the one’. But my god. What if it was? People who end up together, always state “You know, when you know”. Was this the universe letting me know?

There were no games. No bullshit. It just was. Until it wasn’t.

You see as a female, who’s been single for most of her life, you become accustomed to a certain behaviour or lifestyle. You’ve read all the self-help books and watched all the rom-coms. And regardless of what you were brainwashed to believe as a young girl, you know how these things really play out. You’ve learnt the hard way.

When you thought it was right: it was wrong.

When you thought he was into you: he wasn’t.

When you thought it was serious: he just wanted to fuck you.

When you thought it was exclusive: welcome to the other five women he was seeing at the same time.

You remember when you were first blindsided. You recall the moment you first put your wall up. You try to forget the time your heart first snapped in half. These days you look for every one of those signs, to ensure it doesn’t happen again.

To get through this, you tell jokes about only attracting ‘fuck boys’ and how you’re destined to be a cat lady. You make no rules when it comes to dating. You always follow his lead at the start, because you’ve been wrong before. So many times before. 

You now know not to get your hopes up. You’re always waiting for the fall out. You get used to what it’s like to be alone. You train yourself to be comfortable with being alone. 

You preach that you’re not the kind of girl who enters a relationship lightly; but boy, do you want the heavy.

You crave the all-consuming-breath-taking-swept-off-your-feet-music-playing-in-the-background-roll-the-credits heavy feeling of falling for someone, who’s equally falling for you. Dare I write it, you might just want the fairy tale?

You are now tough. Hard. The edges form when you smile, when you say hello, when you laugh loudly at a dinner party.

Deep down you know you only want to be loved and that this toughness you project to the world is just a facade; an armor you built from no one ever really loving you. You now think it’s impossible for someone to love you, because it hasn’t happened yet. You believe it never will.

So, when someone shows you the opposite, that you could be loved. You believe them instead. Almost straight away.

You’re too much. You’re an acquired taste. So, this must be special.

Someone has finally figured out how to want you. How to love you. You’ve been waiting your whole life to be this happy. But you also know your heart can’t cope with misinterpreting the signs again.

You’ve been the giddy one: when you receive a text after the first date. You’ve felt the butterflies: after the first kiss. But you’ve also left his place in tears: after the first time you slept together because what the night was before, is no longer in the light.

So, you’re careful not to get it confused. You’re cautious.

You know these events have made you difficult and bitter and complicated and sad. You know these feelings all too well, like a second skin. You’ve learnt to wear it well though. You now dress it up. Make it look pretty for everyone to see.

You know all of this because this isn’t your first rodeo. You know what you sound like and what you look like when you get caught up in these moments. You know the danger.

You’ve gushed to everyone about ‘the boy’ before and then had to take it back. You’ve seen that look in your friend’s eyes before when you talk about another failed attempt at a relationship. You know what you now put out into the world. You’re jaded.

So, you’re careful, so very, very cautious to not do it again.

Until you do.

Here you go once more, you’re caught up in the ecstasy of it. He’s saying all the right things, he’s doing all the right things, how could you be wrong this time? No, this time it’s real.

You write messages about how cute he is, or how you miss him because there’s no need to hide how you feel; he’s reaching out and responding in the exact same way. You don’t want to think it’s going to end because that’s maybe why it always does? You remain optimistic.

You tell your friends you’re seeing someone because it’s been going on for a while now. You haven’t told all your friends though, just in case. Your past experiences have you always slightly clinging to the ‘just in case’.

You tell yourself to not be negative. Then you constantly fear you’ll ruin it with your insecurities and self-doubt.

What if this goes away? What will you say? What will you do this time? How can you go back to how your life was before?

You don’t want to go back to being the strong girl, the funny girl, the drunk girl, the girl who is excited for her friends but never for herself.

What if it all disappears?

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Well…

When someone decides to disappear, there’s no magic in it at all.

If you were a part of the decision, you’d be brave in front of them and everyone else too. You would come to terms with it eventually. Even though it’s killing you.

If you were a part of the decision, there would be a conversation, a phone call, a voice memo, a text; evidence to loop you in. How the communication began, is how you think it will end. You at least deserve that; you can be adults about it.

Right? No.

When someone decides without you, it’s childish. So, you act like a child. You transform into the narrative of the ‘crazy person’.

There’s no answer. Except the obvious one, that it’s over. You somehow still want answers. But it isn’t wrapped up in a conversation, a phone call, a voice memo, a text… it’s silence. It’s the phone ringing to voicemail, it’s no blue ticks in a Whatapp chat, it’s a simple delete from a dating app.

You follow this with more acts of desperation than you ever care to dial or send or admit but something takes over you. You’re angry. You’re devastated. You act like a two-year-old.

You don’t hold back because there’s nothing left to lose. Except your dignity but you’ve lost that before.

You prove him right, again and again by doing all the things you’d swear you‘d never do; adding to the story line of ‘the psycho girl I used to date’.

You over-justify in your explanations to your friends as to ‘why’ you texted and called so many times, but you don’t tell them all the details because you know you’ve gone too far.

The silence is deafening. But it’s loud. So loud. Why did you get to be ‘the one’ to decide? How are you making this bold move but dancing like a coward at the same time?

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Hang on a minute. Why don’t I just accept it? And move on?

For so long you’ve claimed that you wouldn’t ‘settle for average’, that you’d rather be ‘alone than lonely’ in a relationship. So, what the fuck are you doing giving into this shit?

You’d tell your friend she didn’t deserve this, that it’s for the best he disappeared!! So why the hell are YOU being like this?

Because. Because you knew things had changed. You asked him, you gave him an out; offering multiple doors to exit. But he said no, everything is fine. So, you believed him. You put it down to being paranoid again.

You’re embarrassed, humiliated that you’re so emotional over someone who’s blatantly disregarded you.

But slow your roll sister, you’ve had this before.

Right? Yes.

So, why is this still destroying you?

Because. Because the little girl inside of you is struggling to figure out how she could once again fall for someone so sweet, so kind, so thoughtful. A person who is now this kind of evil.

You attack yourself first. Over think. Over analyse.

Because he set the pace and you went along for the ride.

You only expected him to message because he messaged you all the time. You couldn’t put the phone down without another vibration. You only expected him to call because he called you all the time. Like that time he drove back and forth to Brighton. You only expected to see him this weekend because there was a time when he wanted to see you every weekend. Saturday and Sunday. 

Making plans became your ‘go to dialogue’. Plans for your birthday, plans for Valentine’s Day, plans for Christmas, the future…

Nevertheless, you were deleted from his world, as fast as you were let in. You were hopeful, fearless, happy, though you were wrong, once again. 

One Thursday afternoon, after I messaged you ‘Freezing! How’s your day?’ You went away.

I doubled checked if I sent too many messages in a row. Was I now asking too much? No, I was responding to your message of ‘How cold are you this morning?’ I go back to our last phone conversation. Had I said too much? No, we chatted about mundane things like what you had for dinner.

You went away. You decided you were done. You decided not to tell me why. It didn’t make sense. So, my ugly grew.

I’m not proud of what was next. I will always regret how I reacted to you finishing it.

I thought if I spat enough venom, you’d get fed up and finally bite back. I’d hear from you. I’d hear the words, instead of the words and reasons and scenarios I’m making up in my mind. But I know nothing.

There’s one thing I do know though. I swear that this would never have been my reaction to a rational, respectful, honest end.

The disappearing act is not a magical thing. It’s designed to point out your flaws and faults. It’s designed to make you think it was all your doing. Because that’s what you do when someone disappears, you blame yourself first.

The only magic that actually appears, is the proof that this was never right to begin with. But that doesn’t matter at the time.

The disappearing act comes in many forms, it can be the loss of one’s feelings; off it goes like a switch. The blocking of a mobile number; off it goes like a switch. The flip of your stomach; off it goes like a switch. The youth of today call it ‘ghosting’; off it goes… nope it doesn’t work for that one.

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The problem with ghosts though, they haunt you.

Where did you go? Where did we go? What did I do? Will this haunt me forever?

I know sometimes it’s easier to just disappear. But all it really does is just prolong the toxic finale; tarnishing anything that was ever good or decent between you both. It encourages a monster to appear from the cloud of smoke and act out in a disgraceful way. Because there’s no grace in disappearing. There’s no applause.

It’s gutless. It’s cruel. It’s not necessary.

The only thing worse than being broken up with, is realising that someone didn’t even consider to break up with you.

Next time someone says it ended badly because ‘they were mental’, ‘they wouldn’t stop messaging me’. Ask yourself why they went mental, why they wouldn’t stop contacting that person. Ask yourself if you want to be next?

My only regret is I believed his version of the events. I’m ashamed that I believed him over her. I should have believed her.

Tonight, I write a post about how miserable I am. How utterly depressed these series of events have made me.

You disappeared. You are a ghost to me now. And I should be thankful for that. I will one day be thankful. Sadly, it’s not today.

Yep, unlike the fairy tales, not everything that happens to you as a grown woman has a ‘happily ever after’. So, no best friend, this blog will exist. The fairy tales are still lying to me.

Are they lying to you too?

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Carmela is an Aussie in London with wanderlust. A TV/Radio rebel. Fierce feminist. Loud laugh-er. Emotional eat-er. Pop culture cat. Red wine wooer and karaoke kween. She hopes that her experiences are just like yours, funny, warm, loud, raw and that maybe you can figure out this thing called ‘life’ together. #YasssKween 🙌🏼

Guest Kween: JANINE PLANT “Life After A Toxic Relationship.”

Guest Kween: JANINE PLANT “Life After A Toxic Relationship.”

I climbed into bed a few nights ago and my husband immediately shuffled close to me. He wrapped himself around me and got his body as close to mine as physically possible; every inch of our skin was entwined. I smiled and relaxed into him.

I had a sudden flashback to about four years ago, it was my nightly mission to get as close as possible to my edge of the bed; as far away from my ex-husband as I could. When I heard him approaching our room or falling in the door after a ‘work dinner’ at 2am, I would almost stop breathing in an attempt to keep my body still; so he didn’t think I was awake.

Amazing what can change in four years.

I met my ex-husband at the ripe old age of 21. I was naïve, immature as all hell, vulnerable, amenable and easily influenced. I had just been dating a guy who suddenly decided he was into someone else, so I was craving love and affection.

My ex-husband was 11 years older than me. From the moment we met at a mutual friend’s wedding it was go, go, go.

Ever heard of the term love bombing? It’s the practice of overwhelming someone with signs of adoration and attraction. It’s never ending flattery and attention.

-It’s constant text messages, a day after you’ve just met.

-It’s tokens of affection, elaborate gifts and surprise international flights to swan around in a hotel, while he attends work dinners.

-It’s talks of having children together, when you’ve only known each other a month.

-It’s taking you away to a secluded beach shack, for your second date.

-It’s flowers delivered to your work, so everyone knows what a ‘great’ guy he is.

-It’s surprise appearances that are designed to have you spend more time with the love bomber and less time with others or on your own.

You get the picture.

Love bombing is intoxicating at first, it’s all encompassing. Reading the above paragraphs now, I just think ‘woah, creepy’ but at the time, it was charming; I felt special, amazing, loved.

Now, not everyone who whispers sweet nothings in your ear is a narcissistic jerk, but if you’re feeling that something just isn’t quite right about the person or the relationship you’re in, you should trust it. Yep, if your partner is constantly telling you ‘how good you are together’ but your longest, dearest friends disagree, if your gut is screaming at you that something is just ‘off’ and you’re so anxious you’re grinding your teeth in your sleep and chewing the inside of your mouth, then there’s a pretty good chance something isn’t right.

Love bombing feels great, until it doesn’t.

It feels great until….

-You are endlessly confused because nothing you say or do seems to be right, even when you’re pretty darn sure you didn’t say or do anything wrong.

-There are so many seeds of self-doubt planted in your head, that you’re growing a fucking tree of self-doubt out of there.

-You’ve given up your dream job, which you went to uni for five years to work towards, because you think you’re too dumb to do it.

-Your boyfriend proposes to you in front of your family (knowing you won’t say no that way), and you find yourself curled in a ball crying yourself to sleep on your engagement night.

-Your husband (who earns a lot of money) sits in a bank and manipulates you into taking out a $16 000 personal loan under your name because he has a ‘bad credit rating’ and then somehow convinces you in the car park afterwards that you’re a bad person for thinking it’s a little weird.

-Your 35 year old husband starts coming home on weeknights at all hours of the morning and spends his Saturday nights playing online poker with his mates, getting wasted and you get in trouble for being upset about it.

-You find endless webpage listings for ‘Perth escort services’ on your fiance’s computer and he lies to you and tells you it was his cousin, and you believe him.

Yes, love bombing feels awesome, until you actually don’t even know who you are anymore.

Enter: gas lighting.

Gas lighting, to manipulate someone by psychological means into doubting their own sanity. A malicious and hidden form of emotional abuse, designed to plant seeds of self doubt and alter your perception of reality.

Love bombing morphs into gaslighting pretty quickly. You are so bound up in the love bomber’s web of manipulation that you literally don’t realise it’s happening, until things start to feel really, really wrong.

Some days I just didn’t speak at all, because it seemed easier. We had no money, despite him earning an annual salary four times what I could ever dream of earning. I knew he was using drugs but the couple of times I tried to confront him about it, he laughed in my face and made me feel awful for even thinking it.

So the day I finally plucked up enough courage to leave my ex-husband was hands down, the most invigorating and empowering day of my life.

I had just spent a weekend away for a girlfriend’s wedding. My husband did not enjoy hanging out with these particular friends (I see now it’s because they were smart enough to know better).

I was sitting with my girlfriends, listening to them talk about their experiences as occupational therapists and suddenly I sat up straighter in my chair. I heard the passion in their voices and I remembered that I used to talk like that!

My first job out of uni was working in an acute stroke rehab ward; where I would use my knowledge of the nervous system to help people relearn how to brush their teeth and dress themselves. I thought I knew how to make a difference in people’s lives but my ex-husband had been very encouraging when I said to him one day, “I’m not cut out for this job. I’m just no good at it.” He supported me into leaving the profession I loved so much and then made me feel bad about how little money I had.

It was in that moment, sitting with my girlfriends, that I knew I had to leave. So many things had happened in the lead up to it but somehow it was witnessing that particular conversation, and feeling like an outsider (when I should have been right there in it) that made it all fall into place.

I drove the five hours back home, told him it was over, packed a bag and spent the next three months living in friends’ spare bedrooms.

I share this story not to have a good ol’ bitch about my ex-husband or to shame him in any way; I hold no anger towards him (anymore). I’m sure we both really believed that we loved each other at some point in our lives. I don’t believe he had a malicious intention to inflict so much pain and hurt. We were just two very different, very incompatible humans.

I share this story because I know how easy it is to be manipulated and not realise it’s happening.

I share this story because I’ve met countless other women who took 20 or 30 years to get out of these toxic relationships; amazing, incredible women who are still healing and trying to remember who they are.

I share this story because you can find yourself in an absolute shit storm of toxicity, manipulation, debt, loneliness and yet still have the strength to stand up to a narcissist and remove yourself from the situation.

I share this story because it happens ALL THE TIME.

If one person who is in an emotionally abusive relationship reads this and finds the strength to take the steps they need to remove themselves too, then that’s all I can hope for.

Today, three and a half years after shutting a door and opening a new one, that giant tree of self doubt has reduced to a seedling.

Don’t get me wrong, the voice is still there. If I spill my coffee, drop something or forget to do something at work, an automatic voice in my head is triggered immediately, “You fucking idiot, you’re so useless Janine, sort your shit out! Of course you spilt your coffee, of course you did!!”

Thankfully, I now find myself in a real world of love, kindness and simplicity with a man who won’t let me talk to myself like that.

Four months ago I married my soul mate. I asked him to marry me, in a very normal, non-dramatic kinda way; there was no grand gesture. It was just us, together, camping in the pouring rain (as you do) and I said “Hey Kimbo, wanna marry me?”

He appreciates the simple things in life.

Every Tuesday we have tacos for dinner and every single time it’s like he’s never eaten tacos before. Every night as he rolls into bed, he sighs in absolute bliss about how comfy our bed is. He lives authentically. Appreciating every moment for exactly what it is. Nothing is ever a drama. Ever.

For a while, this was hard to get used to. For five years of my life, I lived in an environment of confusion, lies and drama. Oh the drama. So much drama!!

With Kimbo there are no over-the-top declarations of love or ridiculously expensive dinners or gifts. There is adventure, there is fun and there is of course, love. There is an appreciation of the things in life that actually matter.

I remember the first time he got me flowers, we hadn’t been dating all that long. He got home before me and put them in a glass on the kitchen bench; they weren’t in plain view, just chilling near the sink. There was no mention of it. No begging for recognition. Just a simple act of appreciation. I looked at those flowers (lilies, my fave) and watched him walk around my kitchen, drying my dishes and wiping down my bench tops and felt so genuinely overwhelmed with love, I nearly passed out.

I guess that’s another reason why I’m sharing this story, to show how recovering from a bad relationship can make you so appreciative of the good ones.

It’s the days that break you, that make you.

It’s the tough things that happen to us that help us grow and put ourselves on the path to the best things that will ever happen to us.

I believe that everything we encounter in this life really helps to pave our journey, to build our character and teach us lessons.

Ladies, if you’re in a relationship that feels wrong, it’s wrong.

Trust your gut.

Listen to yourself.

Do what you need to do to find out who you are again, because you’re so worth it.

Janine Plant is a Bunbury gal. She’s a proud mumma to her feather babies (chooks), step-mum to a beautiful little boy and wifey to her soulmate, Kim. Known amongst her friends and family as the resident tree hugger, she’s also a yoga teacher, vegan, nature and animal loving free spirit. With all this in mind, still never get between her and her morning triple shot Bonsoy latte! 

10 times the movie ‘Bridesmaids’ made it ok to not know what you’re doing in your thirties.

10 times the movie ‘Bridesmaids’ made it ok to not know what you’re doing in your thirties.

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10. “Oooh Helen knows the owner.”

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How a woman in her thirties can easily be intimated by the ‘other’ best friend.

9. “You’re more beautiful than Cinderella, you smell like pine needles, and you have a face like sunshine.”

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How a woman in her thirties can go waaaay OTT when praising another woman (especially in nightclub toilets!).

8. “I took nine.”

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How a woman in her thirties will do ANYTHING for free shit.

7. “In fact, Helen I’m hungry, and I wish I had a snack.”

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How a woman in her thirties can NOT refuse to admit she’s wrong, even when she’s really really wrong!

6. “I’m glad he’s single because I’m going to climb that like a tree.”

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How a woman in her thirties can be a bit of a sex pest.

5. “It’s just… it’s the first time I’ve ever seen you look ugly… and that makes me kind of happy.”

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How a woman in her thirties can shamefully rejoice in another woman’s misery.

4. “Help me I’m poor.”

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How a woman in her thirties can be broke! ALL. THE. TIME.

3. “You’re a little cunt!”

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How a woman in her thirties can lose her shit (and her job) over a teenager.

2. “We would like to invite you to no longer live with us.”

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How a woman in her thirties can easily not have a stable living situation (and therefore result in meeting some very colourful characters).

1. “This is so awkward. I really want you to leave but I don’t know how to stay it without sounding like a dick.”

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How a woman in her thirties can still pick men that are terribly wrong for her. Lol!

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But no judgement here ladies. Now, cue Wilson Phillips and let’s dance!

Introducing Carmela Contarino, the #PowerKween behind ‘So The Fairy Tales Lied…’ 👸🏻♥️✨

Carmela is an Aussie in London with wanderlust. A TV/Radio rebel. Fierce feminist. Loud laugh-er. Emotional eat-er. Pop culture cat. Red wine wooer and karaoke kween. She hopes that her experiences are just like yours, funny, warm, loud, raw and that maybe you can figure out this thing called ‘life’ together. #YasssKween 🙌🏼

Guest Kween: ANDIE TICKNER “The Roar Truth!”

Guest Kween: ANDIE TICKNER “The Roar Truth!”

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I stayed in a job that killed my soul.
In fact I stayed in many.
This has nothing to do with the jobs.
It has everything to do with my soul.

My calling.
My path, I’m here to walk in life.
The truth is, I waited far too long.
God knows I had the wake up calls.


They started gentle.
But then they got rough.
The universe showing me that there was an alternative.
Time and time again.
But I chose not to listen.


I thought I’d be able to handle it.
Command the energy to walk through those doors every day and bring my best.
Continue to work longer hours and give my all.


To sacrifice myself for a consistent pay cheque.
Sacrifice my happiness rather than face the fear of the unknown.
Sacrifice my health and mental state because I was too scared to leave.
Continue to fool myself that I could make it work.
Because that’s what we do right?

Until I was done.

Until I knew enough was enough.
Crippled with anxiety.
Overcome with confusion.
Looking for another way. Any way.
Going to the darkest of places.
Struggling to sleep.
Running on empty.
Unable to see the possibilities or ways out.
Until I had no choice but to make a choice.
A life worth living or a life of this?

So I chose a life worth living.

I chose to listen to my heart and follow my purpose.
My passion.
To make a choice to show up as me.
To speak my truth.
To live the life I desire.
To back myself and give it a go.
To step into the unknown.
To live without regrets and what if.
To choose myself.

Did it happen overnight?
Hell no.

Do I have it all figured out?
No.

Were there moments of self doubt and fear?
Yes absolutely. I still get them.

Can I always see the road ahead?
No.

Am I happy?
YES!

Gone is the stress, anxiety, darkness, unhealthy habits and bad relationships.
In its place is someone who is the happiest, calmest and most alive they’ve ever been.
If you find yourself thinking…. that sounds like me.

I promise you, it is easier than you think to make a change.
And guess what? The people and opportunities that come into your world when you align with who you really are and are ready to stand up and speak your truth… well they are just INCREDIBLE.

Check out Andie Tickner’s one woman empire below.

The Roar Truth

www.theroartruth.com

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