Categorie archief: English posts

You don’t dream somebody else’s dream

cfcaf12f58f1d0b1fb557c34af1173ee{ originally posted 2017 }

This morning I woke up from an auspicious dream about me and a hot local writer, who has become even more stunning ever since I started writing about him.
Due to an unlikely turn of events the writer and me were located at the same building. Kind of an creative-urban-retreat thing that would last only for a few days. This was my chance to spend time with him, girlfriend free.
And I wasn’t the only one looking forward to that.
Soon enough we were more engaged in each other, than with our next novel. Our make out sessions were absolutely wonderful, and I couldn’t wait to take things further. But there was a problem.
I hadn’t waxed my legs.
Just like in real life, I had a few super thin hairs, scattered sparsely over my legs. So it wasn’t like I was growing legwarmers or anything, but it was a deal breaker non the less. I wasn’t going to get intimate with someone dramatically close to my dream man, with anything less than a perfectly groomed body.

I woke up with a strong desire to wax my legs.
But the dream was more than that. In a few months I will see him, and I had pictured our rendez vous as my personal reward for getting my new body. I ve designed a program where I will get my pre-work addicted body back before the year is over. But despite having the best intentions; Despite knowing exactly what the main reason is I gained this (hence the classification pre-work addicted body);
Despite my yoga practice being accountable, because recorded for my membership group?
It still didn’t work..
Painful as it is to admit, I m getting nowhere. Well, almost nowhere. I did seem to have lost an inch around the belly, and my body has responded incredibly well to the few work-outs that I actually did, but mentally?
I m nowhere.
This weekend I gave in to my suppressed and therefor accumulated need to write blog posts, and I totally binge wrote. My awareness was either with the party I would later write about, or with the stories I was forming in my head running some mandatory errands, or my awareness was in my computer.
Which was my favorite place, because then I could get stuff out of my head and into a blog post.

After every blog post I felt light and refreshed.
But I was also hyper aware of my deplorable physical state. Unshowered, hadn’t seen daylight, still in pajamas, and it had gotten too dark to record a good yoga video. Should I miraculously have found the inspiration to do anything more than taking a shower for half an hour until my limb body parts had some life in them again.
And the addiction to writing hit me even worse because I still had the dream of losing 15 kilos and getting my old body back! But Plan A – getting fattening stress and work addiction under control – was absolutely unattainable. And my idea of becoming addicted to my yoga mat instead was downright hilarious. But getting thin with a work addiction, felt as impossible as dropping the pounds on a diet of peanut M&Ms.
The whole reshape plan had to go back to the drawing board.
This morning, I realized; you don’t dream somebody else’s dream. And you don’t live somebody else’s life. If writing comes through me, and wants to be born through me, not someone else, then that is my dream. That is my life. That is ME.
And if I have the desire to drop 15 kilos than that is my dream as well.

By thinking the only way I can lose weight is by ditching the highly addictive, blog based, daily online writing, I am basically sacrificing one part of myself for the other. It’s as stupid as cutting off an arm in order to lose weight; you’re going to need that, and it’s a part of you!
Not only do I believe that you only dream your own dreams.
I also believe that once you dream it, you can do it.
Plan A might have flawed, but I m glad it did. Because now I am forced to look for a way to manifest that the dream of having quiet time on the mat, and being athletic and thin, without cutting off the proverbial arm of my writing. If I currently, in this moment, have both dreams (of being thin, and being a writer), it means both dreams are mine, and both can become reality.
I don’t dream someone else’s dreams. Not one, not two, not even if I had a hundred of them they would still be all mine to have.
And even if the hot writer chooses his own path, makes his own decisions, and does not end up with me in December, it still doesn’t mean the dream wasn’t mine to have.
Just that I need to wax my legs more often.

<3LSH
An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

You don’t dream somebody else’s dream will be published in the first English book under my real name:
I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW

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How a wish to get hooked made me recreate my life

fall in ,love{ originally posted 2017 }

It could have been a productive Monday, if only I had stuck to my plan. But instead of creating new yoga classes and online videos, I wasted it watching dating advice.
I was coaxed into this from two sides.
One was via YouTube.

While watching Yoga with Adriene videos (which I use for my classes and online program) I was only two clicks away from watching my favorite dating coach who had a stash of easily digestible six minute videos.
And the other seduction was my InBox.
Being a pro at procrastination I had decided this Monday was the perfect day to purge my email box, and I stumbled upon two links this dating coach had sent me, because I am on her mailing list.
And I knew that despite their promising titles they would turn out to be empty sales pitches. And that if I clicked the external link to “The one thing men want” or “The three magic questions that will melt any man” that I would lose half an hour or more on a video that did not have a fast forward button or any other option to cut to the chase.
I would have to suffer through all the way-too-familiar stories about men withdrawing and losing interest, and real life examples of the women who managed to change his mind just in time using the technique they had learned from the Method You Could Buy For Only $149 If You Ordered Immediately.
Naturally The one thing men want as well as The three magic questions would not be in the free video.
Being well aware of all this, the fact that I still clicked probably illustrated how desperate I was for the magic pill to my love life, to be distracted from my yoga work, or both. Although I must admit one video did actually give some valuable insights, which I diligently wrote down with the intention to learn them by heart.
This would help to get our affair through this critical stage.
It wasn’t like we were fighting. Initially I had not even noticed something had changed because he gave me just enough attention not to get too worried. But when I had started looking back, and realized I was barely seeing him anymore, my perspective changed.
I could see the best-sex-of-my-life early summer and then him putting me on hold, or as I called it; in sansevieria mode.
I was given just enough water to stay alive.
That’s when I realized I could not afford any mistakes. I would have to stay calm, and use the few moments he contacted me extremely well. Maybe even better than “well”. Maybe I needed to learn new tricks and put more thought into exactly which strategy I was going to use to turn the next little spark of attention into a blazing desire for me.

I even checked my agenda to see if I could block out time to do a training about men that I still had not finished, and that I would probably have to redo completely by now..
No wonder I was losing him!

I had gotten sloppy. And if there is one thing, a secret mistress to a successful business man with complicated marital status and a stressful family situation cannot afford, it’s getting sloppy.
Good thing I found this free video in my email! Just in time! And from now on upleveling my dating skills would be at the top of my agenda.
That is until I thought;
Wait. Just. A. Bloody. Minute.
You see, ten years ago, I ended a long-term relationship because I wanted to start dating. And this was a personal mission for me, because I was haunted by fears that really didn’t allow for any sexual activity with anyone who was not screened inside and out and back. And yet that’s exactly what I desired on an emotional level;
To fall in love with men who were intriguing, borderline untrustworthy.

I knew I was done with garden variety men and the relationships they had to offer.
I wanted adventure.
In order to get myself in the mental shape to be able to enjoy this, I had to overcome a ton of deeply rooted fears, and reinvent myself several times. But every time a new man entered my life, I would catch up more quickly, speeding up the process till I could enjoy his company, until finally – eight years after I had become single – I met my current lover; Mr.Big.
Mr.Big was so high up there on my Scary-As-Fuck scale that the only way to get involved with him, was to root out the last of the fears and phobias that I was still carrying with me.
Mr.Big was the big fat price God put there for me, once I had reached the level of sexual “ease” (this word would make Mr.Big laugh, since he thinks I m the most high maintenance thing out there) I wanted.

And now here I was, almost three years into our affair. And I was seriously considering to block out time, learn new skills, and study the psyche of his species in depth, in order to miraculously turn Mr.Big’s faint interest in me, into something spectacularly wild and fresh.
One thing I have always been really good at, and I do praise myself for this, is before you invest a shitload of money, time and effort, to think about all the things you could also be doing with that investment.
For example: I spend about €50 a week on going out. That’s € 200 a month. Would I rather do this, or spend €200 a month on clothes, save it for a holiday, anything else?
No.
I think €200 a month is a fantastic investment because it’s money invested in seeing friends, movies, having a social life or even a LIFE. I spend a lot of time at home because of Little Cat who does considerably better if I am around. So I am. And for the remaining time of his life, I will never leave him alone for the night anymore.
So the €200 is the price of having a life outside of home. That’s a bargain.
Same with breaking up my long-term relationship and investing all those years overcoming my fears and dating; Good investment. I am now the woman I was set out to be.
But investing hours every day worrying, studying, and luring in, a man who is not even mine to begin with? Someone who, should he choose for me, would cause a lot of grief with his loved ones? There is no way to win that. And no way to justify that investment.
And that’s counting outside the more general worry that it might not be wise idea to invest in someone else, especially not at any moment he or she is not (yet) committed to you. Using the “What else could I be doing with these resources?” line of reasoning, you could acquire anything assuming you would throw the amount of resources at it that I was about to spend on our affair.
Instead of figuring out the three magical questions that would turn his heart to jelly, or how I can make him reclaim his position as the best lover I ever had, I have better things to do.
Just like ten years ago, when I had a clear vision of who I wanted to become – a path that was not tied to any man in particular – I am again putting all my cards on me.
Not on him.

And I tore the pages out of my diary, the notes on how to solve my man trouble. I tossed them out and rewrote;
“I know exactly what I need to do. Fall in love with me. Focus and fuss over my own emotions and mental patterns. Not his. Decide on how I want my life, business and body to look like, and invest everything I ve got into the relationship I ve got with ME.”
So in the end, it was an important and useful Monday, after all.

<3LSH
An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

How a wish to get hooked made me recreate my life will be published in my new book:
Big Mistress
confessions from the other woman

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You can poke my face anytime

May 17, 1950, Beverly Hills, Marilyn Monroe{ originally published late 2017 }

The year is drawing to a close, and I can honestly say that it is ending on the sweetest, highest note imaginable. For the first time in my life, I have “hacked” it.
For good.

This has to do with me finding my true calling and purpose work. But also with something else that I seem to get new levels of understanding of every time.
Love;
The joy is in the giving.

I have a little cat Max. He and my other now deceased cat Willem, have kept me more or less permanently home bound since 2009. My last night from home was in 2015 and I get a professional babysit to clean up and serve an extra portion of canned food, if I leave the house for longer than six hours.
Max is my number one priority.
But giving your time, money, energy without second guessing it, to a creature or a human trusted to your care, is the highest joy imaginable. If you have children (or a pet that you are attached to) I don’t have to tell you that. You know how good it feels to give it your all.
But to me, these dynamics were unheard of.
I had loving parents, but they never told me;
“It gives me such great joy to be here for you. I hope one day you ll have children (or if they were really broadminded; a pet) of your own because it is the best thing in the world.”
They didn’t say that.
And I do often hear;
“Children ask so much of you, but you get so much in return!”

No.
No “but” .
Because as soon as you make it conditional, you re on the wrong track.
People do it in relationships as well;
“I need you do this this and this for me.”
No, you don’t. Not really.
If you love someone you’re here to learn to stay true to those (your!) feelings, despite them behaving worst case scenario, in the most despicable way. That is your job. That is your reward. Not to have them behaving the way you think you want them to.
Don’t get me wrong.
I am very protective with regard to my boundaries. If a friendship or relationship (basically any other relationship than your child or your pet) threatens my financial security, my physical well-being or mental health? I will break up with them.
But that’s something entirely different than to stop loving them, or to be angry with them for breaking my trust or behaving in a certain way.
And the great news is, that if you do this consciously? If you overcome your ego (that demands that someone should behave like X, Y or Z, in order to be worthy of your love) and step into loving them instead? No matter what?
It’s pure ecstasy!
Like a love bomb exploding in you head.
Now with Max things are a lot less complicated. He wakes me up multiple times a night. He pokes my face, very gently, with his paw. And meows. He usually wants me to lift the blankets or he wants more canned food. And when it s not one of those two things, I assume he wants to be cuddled because I m kind of running out of options.
But whatever it is he needs? And no matter if he wakes me up once, twice, or waits until the morning before he pokes my face? I m always so happy I can do something for him.
That he s giving me an opportunity to be there for him.
Because the biggest joy is always, without exception, in the giving.
That is the return.

<3LSH
An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

You can poke my face anytime will be published in the first English book under my real name:
I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW

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That thing that scares the f*** out of you? It’s THE THING

class.thumbnail{ originally posted in 2017 }

The Thing?
That is when you know you can be successful in every other area of you life, but as long as you maneuver around IT, you will always feel like you missed your calling.
Because you walked away.
You didn’t even properly try.

Maybe a weak attempt, but you already knew beforehand that at the first sign of resistance or inconvenience you would drop it like a hot potato.
Little word of advice; nothing is worth trying (in fact I resist the word trying altogether) if you know you’re going to drop it as soon as things get more difficult. Because everything eventually will have it’s own hiccups and challenges.
And if it’s The Thing?
It will have even more.
Performance artist Marina Abramovic stated it most clearly when she said;
“Always do the project that scares you most.”
The only requirement for this advice to work, is that you view your life as a work of art. And that it fascinates you to grow beyond your fears.
I’m not saying to grow beyond irritation.
Or beyond boredom.
I m not saying to grow beyond “That is not for me.”
Or “I I don’t fancy that.”
I’m not even bringing in anger, or obsessions, or any unhealthy behavior you might nurture, into this equation.
I m focusing on fear. On that feeling of;
If this blows up in my face?
I m toast.
If this, fascinating, alluring, exciting thing, takes a wrong turn?
I collapse into the ravine along with it.
If I go on this life altering journey?
I may never return.
When I was a child I lived in Africa. My mother always warned me not to pick up large stones, because there could be scorpions and snakes hiding underneath. Years later, I confessed to my mother that we did turn the stones. And then we ran away, before we slowly crept back in, curious what we had uncovered.
My mother said;
“That’s okay. You were careful because you were warned.”
Just like snakes, it’s often enough to be scared. It keeps you from doing anything reckless. It is never meant as something to make you stop doing it altogether.
Last week I almost pulled a book from being published, because it scared the f*** out of me. Book one to seven were clear. They were written a long time ago. They didn’t have any emotions attached to them anymore. But book eight could blow up in my face, drive me into a ravine and get me lost, never to return.
The moment I realized that therefor book eight should not be cancelled, but in fact favored? That was a huge thing for me. That the fear had not been a sign that it should be pulled from publishing.
It had been a sign it was THE THING.
All I regret now is that I waited so long to publish the first books. I missed the chance to publish them when they were still warm, and I still felt sensitive about them.
A book can be well written, an evergreen or a bestseller. But only when it still has the fear and excitement of the writer attached to it, is it
THE THING

<3LSH

An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

That thing that scares the f*** out of you? It’s THE THING will be published in the first English book under my real name:
I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW

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Fuzzy Bert

20160505-fuzz-outtake{ originally posted in 2016 }

When cafe The Fuzz opened its doors it was a breath of fresh air. Originally run by both father and son, the male grungy energy set it apart from all the fresh, light, frumpy lunch cafes.
Even now, four years later and with half a dozen vegan, eco friendly establishments entering the market, The Fuzz still only serves bread (and was one of the first in the city to offer pastrami) and toasted sandwiches, with an amount of cheese that can only be digested by the fiercest of stomachs.
The Fuzz is warm and welcoming but it has that edge that makes it so much more pleasant than mainstream lunch cafes.
Meanwhile, humans were not the only one drawn to this.
Bert, a ginger cat, who was over ten years old at the time, immediately included The Fuzz in his list of daily hang-outs, which also included a hair dresser and an accountancy firm. He lived in a nearby neighborhood, but every morning he crossed the busy street to hang out in the inner city of Nijmegen. After half a year, the people from the Fuzz found out Bert had stopped going home. That’s when they started feeding him, to make sure he would eat enough. They have also been the ones who have saved his life at least twice, over the course of four years.
Last summer Bert would sleep at the Fuzz but currently he doesn’t sleep at the Fuzz, nor do I see him at night when I cycle home. From what we know from past stories, he has sleeping addresses all around the block, always with women, and usually in their early twenties.
There have been women falling in love with him and missing him. At one time Bert was gone for days and when he returned he was wearing a collar. Clearly someone tried to tie him down, which was of course a lost cause.
The collar you see on Bert now, was from a later date.
The Fuzz owners gave it to him, as a sign he was taken care of.
What I realized is that Bert’s behavior is entirely human, and matches how men behave (or would like to behave). Bert hangs out with the boys during daytime, yet he spends the night either with young women or by himself. And without making any commitments. Even on the street he behaves manly, since he can’t multitask; if he’s on his way, for example to the hairdresser (who always leaves his door open) Bert needs to focus on traffic and on the journey ahead. He doesn’t want to be petted. But if he’s just hanging out on the pavement, or on the chair next to the entrance of the Fuzz, he’s cool with a little extra attention.
I remember a conversation I had with a man. I was fascinated by him, but I knew he couldn’t commit. He wasn’t honest about his whereabouts, but it most likely included a whole string of women who were all still crazy about him.
“I can’t get with you,” I said. “You’re bad news.”
He was offended and said:
“I want you to understand that I would never, ever, do anything against your will.”
And I laughed and answered:
“Of course not. That’s for amateurs.”
And I realized it was crazy to fight this, because I love men who behave like Bert. They don’t do anything against your will and you eagerly go along. The terms of the agreement are completely irrelevant.
You’re under their spell.
And you know that even if you somehow manage to put a collar on it;
It’s not going to change even the slightest thing, about their ways.

<3LSH

An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

Fuzzy Bert will be published in the first English book under my real name:
I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW

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Spruce up your nest

tumblr_mvq68upgbf1smkqovo1_500{ originally posted 2015 }

A few weeks back I read that men were much more capable of relaxing than women:
They could ignore the mess and everything that needed to be done in housekeeping, and go fishing. Read the paper. Or watch porn.

Well actually I made that last one up, but you get the idea.
Men are surprisingly easy going creatures in domestic areas. To some degree they all remind me of The Dude, from The Big Lebowski.
Men have the unprecedented ability to prioritize and don’t sweat the small stuff. Which makes them born ready to rule empires, acquire Guru status or develop a cure to overcome death.
It is also what makes them disastrous to live with.
It’s not that I don’t love men, I adore them, especially the rough type like The Dude can make my knees melt and my defenses vaporize at the sight of all that laid- backness. 
But I wouldn’t want to live with one. And that’s coming from someone who would love daily sex, and doesn’t mind a guy watching porn. I have a caring nature and make soup when someone is ill and I m great with relationships.
But despite all these nurturing traits there is one thing I can’t stand: clutter.
In a former life, I lived with my partner and I remembered a conversation about a set of tools, an overflowing toolbox and an extension cable that were neatly stacked to the hallway wall.
After a week I said:
“Listen, I want to put them away for you. But where do they belong? In the shed, or in the closet?”
Both places were already high-jacked by his tools and spare parts, but I didn’t say that.
He answered:
”Pumpkin, if I tell you I have no idea, does that help in any way?”
That’s another reason I love men: they have the best sense of humor.
Like most stranded relationships, there were multiple reasons why we eventually broke up. But it didn’t help that I felt his clutter monster was growing stronger every day. And that I had no idea how to fight it.
His new girlfriend did, so that story ended well for all parties. And I started living for myself, and finally, The Big Clearing began.
I don’t consider myself a minimalist. Nor do I have that Marie Kondo thing nailed down to the last box with cords and computer appliances I never use.
I have spare pillows for on my couch, spare fleece blankets for over the couch, a single duvet including covers that I use as an extra for in winter or when I have a snoring Lebowski in my bed and prefer to sleep on the couch.
And I have a whole guest set incl two pillows, that I exclusively use that one night a year I have a friend over.
So I cannot claim mastership over the Marie Kondo method.
But I do understand why (most) women cannot relax unless the house is done, and why we flee from a guy’s clutter monster. Because having a clean and decluttered house is our key to happiness.
There have been days when I didn’t feel good, and this is something I discovered years ago, but then when I cleaned and cleared my house, it was done. I felt better. On moments like that I feel I should have it in ink on my forearm, so that I never forget:
Wait! Before you do anything to solve your problems, clean your house.
99% chance the bad feeling you had, is gone.
Last Sunday I was at a birthday party and suddenly the most peculiar thing happened.
Two of us had used the Marie Kondo method, and we explained it by folding a few children’s clothes to illustrate how it worked.
The third woman then got so inspired, that without buying the book of Marie Kondo, she dived into her closets that same day, and started clearing out. She sent pictures to the host of the party, to thank her for the inspiration. It was so obvious that she had found tremendous joy in this clearing out of her house, and that she would make the house a nicer, more joyful place to live for everybody.
Judging from the stories I hear from others, even men will give in the moment they see their wife’s side of the closet so neatly vertically stacked and stored. But they need to get a visual first.
Marie Kondo urges you to throw everything away that doesn’t spark joy. So start with what do you want to keep?  It works best if you have an idea what you want your house to look like. Or what kind of house your future self would have.
On the outside it may seem that your house is not significant. But for a lot of us, our house represents our world within. And that’s what you’re changing:
By beautifying the world around you, you change the world within.
And that ain’t no small thing.

<3LSH
An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

Spruce up your nest will be published in the first English book under my real name:
I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW

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What would Angelina Jolie do?

2005-x80173310554064484_4{ originally posted 2015 }

I was never more inspired by a celebrity, then the years when Angelina Jolie was a single mom to her newly adopted son Maddox.
She had applied for the adoption together with her then-husband, but before it came through the two separated.
“We changed overnight,” she said.
Although in some interviews she admits the thought of becoming a mother simply gave her a whole new perspective on things. A perspective where the man you share knife games and tattoos with might not make the ideal parent.

“Once Maddox came into my life, I knew I would never be destructive again.”
She was so worried about her son, that she took him in a baby seat to the bathroom with her when she indulged in a taking a miniature- shower.

April 19, 2005

April 19, 2005

Early 2005, still officially single but already suspected of being somewhat involved with Brad Pitt, she talks to Vanity Fair about how her life looks.
She basically still sleeps and breaths with Maddox, but has acquired two lovers with whom she occasionally has sex in hotels (one at the time, although Vanity Fair does not press for details).
The lovers are not invited to see her son.

“But I know if I ever saw a man be great with my child, then that would be it for me.”
After giving the interview and before the print, a photo with Brad Pitt and her son, appeared. And my infatuation for her disappeared. My idol had been the single independent woman who took full responsibility as a parent and arranged her sex life too. Luckily for me: that Angelina never fails to inspires me (more to that later), even though the real Angelina transcended to a whole new level, and started to inspire the rest of the world.
For the past year my life has been much like that of the early single Jolie; it revolves around my cats, in particular the bigger one which has been non-stop sick since June last year. And just like with humans, sickness starts with thinking it will be okay, progresses to what-the-fuck is this, falls back to fatalism, spirals back up at the first hopeful sign.
And then it starts all over again.
I ve currently just come out of the latest cycle, where I nearly killed my cat with two back-to-back med courses that were supposed to save his life. I gave it up and stopped the second one after five days.
Now I focus on restoring his original health level.
So for a year I’ve been from home 4-5 hours max.
Since six months I can’t solve this by letting anybody else take care of them.
Since four weeks my clothes have been dirty from force feeding, my skin scratched from VET visits and I probably look grey with worry.
But every time I think I can’t go on any longer, or when I m afraid I ll accidentally choke him with the meds, or when I have to take him to the VET, I invoke my inner Angelina Jolie…
I can feel my thighs shrink to a size that does not allow for pizza Nutella.
My teeth get round and smooth, my lips grow to Hollywood stardom and I wear imaginary eyeliner and mascara (sometimes I put on real one, to make sure it works).
My hands somehow seem more elegant, and my voice is steady and motherly, when I tell him everything will be fine and that mommy knows best.
My cat is being taken care of by Angelina Jolie throughout the most difficult year of his life.
And how this Angelina manages to hold up, and how she spends her me-time?
Oooooh…. you’ll figure it out 

<3LSH
An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

What would Angelina Jolie do? will be published in the first English book under my real name:
I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW

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BOOK SHOP
Gives a 25% discount on all prices
Select your store f.e. Nederland or United States
with the flag in the upper right corner.