Real Soup for the Real Soul is an honest, happy place. I want you to feel super-comfortable whenever we connect via blog posts, Insta antics or Facebook shenanigans. Like you’re beside me, nodding in agreement, cackling at the delicious inappropriateness of a joke taken a tad too far. I aim to keep things genuine: raw and real with a generous dose of cheeky slang for healthy “boganesque” measure.

In order for us to get better acquainted, I’d like to share more about myself than the default spiel about my passion for health and Pollyanna-like enthusiasm. Perhaps you’ll discover that we have things in common? There might still be things that have you envisioning question marks and that’s fine too. My quirks aren’t to be embraced by everyone.

I am obsessed with my Vitamix.

I’m not ashamed to admit that I have attachment issues with my Vitamix. I love this machine like I’d love my first born. The base, jug, tamper – heck even the lid – feel like family members. She (yes I am personifying her, just go with it, okay?) makes the best smoothies, soups, cake batters and nut/seed butters in the world. I am so reliant on her that she even comes on holidays with me. We sit together on the beach, sipping fresh coconuts and getting a jolly good ~~tan~~ dose of vitamin D. Alright you got me. That last part isn’t true – I’m not that weird.

I can’t refuse to function without my Morning Routine.

I used to have an epic morning routine and wasn’t satisfied with myself until I had completed it. The expectations were exhausting and honestly, Pilates and a run and a shower is too much life admin to expect of oneself every single morning … who was I kidding? These days I’ve simplified it for sustainability’s sake but still have my non-negotiables: get up, get dressed, cleanse and moisturise face, go for a walk (or run) and then return home to enjoy my fave brekkie.

I’m borderline-obsessed with Poo!

If the eyes are the window to our souls, then poo is the window to our guts. P-Dog, Turdster or Sargent Butt Truffle: a poo by any other name is a free, easy and fascinating marker of health. It’s not that I want to look at other people’s poo (I am normal enough to still find that gross) but I do think it’s incredible that poo transplants (yes, you read that correctly) are a legit medical treatment (I love science) and that a healthy poo is like a report card from the gut that communicates the simple message: “we good”. You can read more about my shameless poobsession here.

You: Rach, I won’t be doing that.

Me: Suit yourself.

I’m a ‘Stand Up’ gal.

I feel restricted sitting for prolonged periods of time. I get stiff, grumpy and become an actual monster until I’ve escaped for a run. I recognise that many don’t understand my love of standing – understandable (ha!) considering that we’ve been conditioned to see sitting as the default position of the modern day human. I’ve known people to feel uncomfortable when they offer me a seat and I politely decline.

I despise making others squirm – unless I’m breaking down their poo-fearing walls – that’s just everyday entertainment. I used to sit down to appease them only to find myself driven insane by the lack of blood flow. Please, can we all just be adults about the fact that humans crave regular movement and normalise having conversations whilst sitting in a Hindi squat or doing a little tap dance (okay, so the latter is only acceptable if you also need to wee but can’t justify cutting a good conversation short).

My fave ab workout is a jolly good giggle.

Humour is everything. From the randomly hilarious to the downright inappropriate, sharing a joke or mucking about with those who share and appreciate your sense of humour is the actual best. If you need a laugh (but also, education), I genuinely suggest any one of my four books.

I’m a Vegan (but haven’t always been, don’t know if I always will be, and certainly won’t tell you that you “should” be – I’m not a “preachy vegan”).

I’ve always loved my veggies and found [most] non-human creatures adorable (except perhaps for flies, they can f*** off). That said, I also really enjoyed meat, eggs and dairy products (one word: lasagne).

Alas, in 2016, after surgical complications (I think I had internal bleeding in my gallbladder?) rendered me incapable of digesting animals foods without suffering gallstone attacks, I slowly but surely started eating more plant-based meals out of sheer necessity.

In 2017 – after realising that I was thriving on plants – I ditched every last ounce of animal flesh and (touch all the wood in the world) it’s working out dandily for my head, heart AND bowels. Will me and my precious gut always thrive this way? Who knows? We’re taking it one plant-powered day at a time.