I'm just like any other regular mum; cooking, cleaning, wiping butts, picking up after kids, being a wife and helping the kids with their homework. Mind you, I'm terrible at maths. I can't even do my six-year-old's maths homework with her.

THE REASON I CAN BE 38 AND HAVE TWO KIDS AND WEAR A BIKINI IS BECAUSE I WORK MY ASS OFF. IT'S NOT AN ACCIDENT. IT'S NOT LUCK, IT'S NOT FAIRY DUST, IT'S NOT GOOD GENES. IT'S KILLING MYSELF FOR AN HOUR AND A HALF FIVE DAYS A WEEK, BUT WHAT I GET OUT OF IT IS RELATIVE TO WHAT I PUT INTO IT.

Beauty fades! I just turned 29, so I probably don't have that many good years left in me.

When I was pregnant, I couldn't wear fragrance. I couldn't smell anything. I couldn't smell flowers, I was very sensitive to everything. I could smell orange juice from across the room and I remember thinking, 'I will throw up.'

I try to do one thing at a time to utilise my time well.

Doubt, not self-reflection, comes from a destructive energy, and when it rears its head, I talk to it like a lunatic.

I really worry about the state of the planet and I wish everyone would make a concerned effort not to trash it.