All posts by constancestella2014

Body love 😘

Sitting here being amazing I started to think my relationship with my body. I haven’t always known how to love it.  

 In my younger years I actually used to throw up after eating. Now that my body is my queen, I’m so embarrassed that I would put her highness through that. 😞

Bulimia is,
This strange compulsion to eat loads really poor quality food as fast as you can, spaced perfectly with water to keep a fluid consistency that is easier to bring up. 

Bulimia isn’t,

Enjoyable. You can’t really enjoy the feeling of eating while your plagued with this uncontrollable guilt. 

The satisfaction of throwing your lunch up is probably the closest thing you get to enjoyment with bulimia. 

And then no matter how many times you wash your hands you pretty much always smell a little bit like spew… Eww. I know.

I remember taking my top off before I did it to minimise the chances of getting vomit on my clothes, I bent over and lunged my fingers down my throat, I was violently gagging in a bid to get every fucking bit of food up and out. 

Then I caught a glimpse of myself in the shower door reflection, tits slapping against the toilet, head inside the bowl, I looked like a withdrawing drug addict, I wasn’t even skinny, which made me feel like I couldn’t pull the “eating disorder” card. I couldn’t even succeed at the eating disorder that clearly had its claws in.

I was kind of chubs and for some reason I had this ingrained belief that if I lost 10kgs all my problems would just flush away with my half digested pasta spew. 

My eating disorder convinced me that I didn’t even deserve to have an eating disorder in order to stop me from getting help. 

Eating disorders are sneaky little cunts. 

Eventually self love creeped in, I was very lucky, I was struck mildly with an eating disorder, self love is strong and steady, it requires time and patience but…..

Self love always wins.

So today as I sit here bum on sand, loving myself sick, letting everyone enjoy the view of my incredibly strong, clever and sexy bod I want to pass on this message to anybody that isn’t engulfed in self love or positive body image yet. 

Start small, say one positive thing about your body every day. Your mind will follow your mouth.

You will get there, don’t ever give up on a positive body image, even if you hate the way you look today and feel ashamed of your body today, you might not feel like that tomorrow. One day you might be a totally vain bitch like me who loves every inch of her divine queen body.

Self love always wins.

And don’t forget to upload your bikini pics β˜ΊοΈπŸ’—πŸ‘‘

#constancesqueens #likeaqueen

anxieties a bitch

I used to suffer the worst anxiety attacks ever. Which I’m totally ok with admitting because I know that anxiety is really only for the most intelligent of people. 
Sometimes I thought I would vomit, thought I couldn’t breath, thought I was about to pass out and I would get the shittiest shakes. 

At times my life felt like impending doom was hovering over the top of me despite having nothing to really worry about.
My friends actually got used to my anxiety and pretty much stopped flinching when they noticed me rocking in the corner breathing into a paper bag. 
“Where’s Con?” 

“Over there having a nervous breakdown”

“Cool, she’ll be back in about 10”
And what’s more annoying, it actually got worse after kids, only then I didn’t have my wolf pack so close by anymore πŸ”« 
So looking back I have been wondering lately where that went, how I moved past it and I’m pretty sure it fucked off with this piece of advice from an aunty. 

(Aunties are worth more then freshly laid dragon eggs, if you don’t have any you can borrow one of mine) 
You need to disempower your anxiety, you do this by questioning that very thing, it’s power. 

What is the worst that could happen with an anxiety attack? 

“stop breathing pass out, in public, sit down in car park, cry”

Ok, so? If you stop breathing you probably will pass out, then you will start breathing again, the world goes on. Then what? 

“Hmmm nothing I guess”

Guess what? People are kind. Anxiety tries to convince you that they are wankers, because anxiety is a wanker. 

People on the other hand want to help you. There are queens everywhere, just waiting to help you, to kick the shit out of your anxiety attack. 
Stop thinking that you need to hide it, be a fucking diva about it. 
“Back the fuck up everyone, this queen is having an anxiety attack, grab my kids and fan me bitches” 

I can pretty much guarantee that all the queens in woolies, Bunnings, David Jones will be there. With walkie-talkies saying “queen down, queen down, grab wine, queen down” 
By embracing your anxiety, your effectively disempowering it. πŸ‘ŠπŸΌπŸ‘ŠπŸΌ
Disempower the wanker, it can’t actually hurt you. It will leave when it realised that you aren’t afraid of it anymore. πŸ‘‘
#likeaqueen #queenfest #fuckanxiety 


Getting outΒ 

Bill and I had only just gotten back together for a few months when I fell pregnant with the twins. I look back on that year as the worst year of my life. So depressing.

Still working things out our relationship was 1   step forward and 2 steps back and when I’m pregnant I can’t rationalise, I’m not even a very good rationaliser when I’m not. I cried every day, we lost our connection and I lost my shit.  

I was so depressed, I even sent my bestie a message that contained the words 

“wish I was dead” it was meant to be a bit jokey but besties know best. She was worried. 
One day I had my mum look after the kids so that I could stay in bed and cry/stare at the wall/cry again/eat/cry, I decided to lug my sorry arse to the doctor and get a referral to a psych. 
Best thing I ever did. 

Juliana #anotherqueen, my new psych became my god. 
She told me, that I was quite deeply co-dependant, or something like that, I wasn’t really listening, I was too busy thinking to myself 
“I love this women so much, I hope she never retires, what will I do if she retires? I’ll find her at her home, where does she live?”

She taught me to stop dwelling on what was wrong, stop thinking about the future. Make today’s happiness and calmness my priority. The future can wait until then.
1 thing that stood out for me during my time with my gorgeous queen psych that I want to share with any of my queens who are feeling lonely or miserable or like the funny, sexy guy they fell for is now an arrogant, mean wank stain. 
Socialise, away from your home. 
Even when you really don’t feel like it. 

Make yourself get out of the house and force one of your friends, (I say friends not family because of all the pressures and responsibilities families come with) call a queen to have a coffee, or a picnic, or a walk on the beach with you, or come to the park with you while you drink a bottle of vodka and flash your tits to on coming traffic, whatevs. Even if you really can not be fucked. Do it.

It sounds so simple, but it literally saved my life. 
Socialising online is not enough, face to face is therapeutic, it calms your soul, it gives you energy, it gets you out of the four walls. 

Something really magic happens when 2 or more queens get together, through support and laughter.

Aim for once a day, make it your priority, before everything else, you will have nothing left to give if you don’t prioritise your mental state. 
Call a queen. If you don’t have a queen to call, write in the comment section your suburb and see if there’s a queen who can come and grab a coffee with you. Let’s tell loneliness to chomp on a big fat dick, together.  
I’m in Fremantle WA if you need a queenπŸ’ͺπŸΌπŸ‘‘πŸ‘ŠπŸΌ

#queensofconstance  #likeaqueen 



Like a queen you guys
She’s flawed, 

She swears, 

She eats the cake!! 

She has a past and she owns that shit,

She’s skinny, curvy, flabby, muscly and she loves it. 

Because she’s a fucking queen πŸ‘ŠπŸΌ
Love yourself the way you want your daughters, nieces, friends kids to love themselves. 
Now I nominate you, all of you, to take a picture of yourselves, a picture that society has deemed you unfit for, because your too old or skinny or fat or you’ve had too many kids or not confidant enough or for whatever reason you have been made to feel like you don’t deserve to love your body or your self. 

An undie shot, bathers shot, a grape eating shot brig fanned by a naked Greek man shot, whatever.
Hashtag #likeaqueen and yes, nominate your spectacular queens friends. And let us sit around drinking self worth a queen vibes from a champagne glass. Because our royal bodies deserve so much more πŸ‘ŠπŸΌπŸ’ͺπŸΌπŸ‘‘ 
  #constancesqueens #likeaqueen

For all the queens out thereΒ 

To the woman at the park, looking at her phone, ignoring her children,I salute you. 

For not giving into the public perception that you should be switched on, 24 hours a day. 

For giving no fucks about what “constable mother’s group” thinks. 
To the woman with piles of dishes and washing who walks straight out the door for a coffee at her friends, 

I salute you. 

Being a good mum or wife or human does NOT mean spending eternity cleaning your house. If you leave them for long enough your friends will start doing them. Trust me. 

To the woman at the doctors surgery, waiting patiently to request some antidepressant, 

I salute you. 

Post natal depression is a rude little cunt. You are still coping, do not confuse depression for not coping, you’ve taken action, you looks like a coping queen to me.

Too often strength and weakness are confused, strength is asking for help. 

You are so strong.

So many women are going through the exact same thing, they just don’t talk about it.

To the woman who didn’t loose all of that baby weight, 

I salute you. 

A brand new 24 hour job that doesn’t pay and won’t end for around 20 years is NOT a good time to give up cake. Eat the cake, eat the whole fucking cake and fuck off anyone who dares to say anything. Your post baby body is not all the sudden free for public commentary. 

Lots of love, 
A fellow mum, who’s days are full of mammoth fails and micro victories, yet who’s heart still manages to repeatedly explode for the mini army of Love all day. 🌷



Having read one or 2 of my posts mentioning that my husband and I have both cheated in our marriage, quite a few people have privately messaged me asking for advice on getting over an indiscretion in a relationship, so I thought I’d post some tips here on the off chance that it might help someone in need πŸ’—

Don’t make your decision on whether or not to stay straight away, your hurting, your rock has crumbled, resist the urge to grab hold of your partner and squeeze tightly in a desperate attempt to regain the life you had the day before you found out. Also resist the urge to make a final decision that it’s over straight away, your not thinking straight, you can’t even breath properly right now, your in no state to make big decisions.

Don’t just be sorry, saying sorry means jack shit to someone who has been cheated on, you need to put yourself in your partners shoes, prove to them that you understand what you did to them, understand their agony. 

Find out what you need to know, on a broader spectrum, don’t find out unnecessary details, they will haunt you, you deserve more then to be haunted. 

No contact ever again with said human you cheated on. That is not negotiable, suggesting otherwise will prove to everyone that you are a fuck wit, but your not a fuck wit, you just did s fuck wit thing. 

Friends friends friends. Tea, wine, Valium. Friends.

Prepare yourself, pain has ways of relapsing, just when you feel like you have paid your dues you partner might hate you again out of the blue, like “oh look at that pretty rainbow!” 

“actually it kind of reminds me of how much of a massive cunt you are”

Your not aloud to punish your partner forever, your aloud to leave them and hate them forever and make all your friends hate them, but if you have made the decision to stay, you need to be responsible for how your brain processes what’s happened. Sometimes the pain pops up into your brain, indulging it gives it life again, let’s it into your relationship again. Throw it away, fuck it off, distract yourself straight away, it has not place in your head. 

There is only so much punishment you deserve and can handle, if over 6 months have passed and your partner isn’t able to get over it then you need to make a tough decision, because what you did was terrible and wrong, however everyone deserves a second chance, you deserve a second chance, you deserve to be right again, to be loved again, if this relationship is too damaged you need to know when to walk away. You need to forgive yourself. 

It’s a steaming turd of a road to walk down, in some cases it’s just time to call it quits. 
I believe it you can pull through it’s time to reevaluate everything, rebuild the entire infrastructure of the relationship, find out why it happened, learn how to love and appreciate each other properly all over again, fall in love again. 
I believe it’s possible to succeed in life after cheating. I believe you can be happier then before after facing this monumental test. 
I believe in love. 


baggage claimΒ 

Being at an age now where I have friends hooking up with “life partners” but also friends who are breaking up with “life partners” settling into life after marriage or partners, I’ve thought a lot lately about the term “baggage” 
Recently I was privy to a conversation where a friend insinuated that another friend may have a hard time finding a new lover due to all of her “baggage” 

Well not surprisingly, I’m gonna challenge the shit out of that. 
What is baggage? Kids? A crazy ex? A mortgage? Herpes? A psycho side? I mean what he fuck is with the term baggage? 
Is somebody who lacks a past more desirable then someone who has loved in life? Or lived in life? Or created life?
In fact, I wouldn’t trust anyone that doesn’t come with a decent amount of baggage. If you’ve never loved anyone or taken a risk or left a relationship that wasn’t making you happy or had your sorry arse dumped and left for dead then where on earth have you been? Living in a god dam igloo? Cold much? 
Some of these igloo dwelling coldies are lucky I’m not single coz Id love to hear them call one of my 4 babies baggage?!?!! πŸ‘ŠπŸΌ 
I guess the probability that there are women out there, brave heroic queens who have taken the stance to leave a shitty relationship or an abusive relationship and are met with a fear of this baggage bullshit just snaps my heart in half πŸ’”
I want them to know that baggage isn’t real. 
Baggage just sounds so heavy, like a big fat pile of your past that drags you down at every turn, we should really call it luggage, hand luggage, hand luggage that you don’t have to hold, it just floats glamorously around you, stroking your hair and telling you you look hot. 

Luggage gives you warmth, luggage is colourful, luggage gives you wisdom and makes you who you are, a loveable and well loved, flexible, continually growing human. How human is that? 

How amazing are you? 


Birthing competitionsΒ 

I struggle with competitive birthing, I struggle with any competitions but particularly one that makes a woman feel like it’s possible to fail at doing something that’s as weird exceptionally beautiful and mental as giving birth. 

I wanted to give birth like a hero, like an Olympian. I wanted to be that soul mumma who managed to not flinch during a home birth with essential oils in a spa while levitating. 

Drug free. 
I couldn’t even walk into a night club in my twenties drug free why did I think I could push a baby out? 
So needless to say, I wasn’t successful at harmonic birthing, I was in a hospital screaming for drugs, they came but never soon enough. 
As a result my second labour was more of a morphine session, in other words I loved every second of it, thought I was a queen, hugged nurses, requested massages and so on. I pretty much just lay there loving myself, blowing my doctor kisses while he pulled a baby out of my fanny. I actually even think I had a mild morphine withdrawal the next day. 
When I fell pregnant with the twins I finally stopped kidding myself and booked my first C section. Hallelujah. People say C sections aren’t natural, weird because the decision to have one came very organically to me.
However at 34 weeks my stumpy torso gave in and I went into labour naturally. 

I can’t even plan a C section properly!! 

I was in so much agony that I told Billy I wasn’t going to wait for my mum to get here and jumped in the car to drive myself in.
I literally screamed the whole way to the hospital, my waters dribbling down my legs I was absolutely positive I would give birth on the side of the freeway to two babies and then die.
But I made it there, waddling down the labour ward screaming and yelling at everyone that “MY BABIES ARE COMING OUT!!!! MY LAST LABOUR WAS QUICK!!!! THEY ARE COMING!!!”
Billy arrived minutes later, he said he could hear me screaming from the elevator. He came to my side.  
As he walked into the room that I had been plonked in at the same time the doctor arrived with his glove on. Of course by then I was crying in so much pain, he assumed I was 10cm dilated and was stressed about the twins positions as we were all prepped for the C section that we might not make it to and Rumi was still breach.
He shoved his hand right up my clacker, I didn’t even care. 

He pulled it out said 

“Constance, your not even 1 cm dilated” #stillnotafail. 

It became clear to everyone that I didn’t have a very high pain threshold. 
So as they were getting me ready for me C- section of course the nerves made me need to poo. 

Billy had to walk me to the toilet and pull down my undies. I was thinking to myself “I thought a C section was the civilised option, I don’t really feel civilised holding my husbands hands while pushing out a poo. 

Now the embarrassing part here is that while helping me up, Bill had a confused look on his head after copping an eye full of my business. 
I bursts out with “Don’t look Bill!!!! It’s a big poo!!!! It’s a nervous poo!! Nerve poos are always huge!!”

So pissed off and in agony I finally got my drugs and went forth with my Caesarian. 
I don’t feel like a failure, I’m certainly not a natural but how could anyone feel like a failure after creating life? 

Competitive birthday can fuck right off, women are such incredible life giving, fertility goddesses. 
There are no winners, no losers no hero’s and certainly no failures, just amazingness feminine 

Warriors that deserve the ground before them kissed by virgins. πŸ‘ŠπŸΌ


Pms be goneΒ 

I got my period today. ☺️ 
So now I have to do my monthly apologies for my behaviour in the 2 days leading up to my period.,
I’m sorry husband for getting angry at the sound of your breathing, I know you have to do it. 
I’m sorry kids for getting angry at the 4 million questions you asked me yesterday, I’m your mum, it’s my job to pretend I care even when I don’t. 
I’m sorry for pulling the finger instead of indicating. 
I’m sorry for cracking the shits at the sound of anyone eating near me, that’s just mean. 
I’m sorry to the man crossing the road REALLY slowly in front of my car. 

You are not really a fuck wit, your probably just stoned, I was in a hormonal prison of frustration and anger. 

Free now