If you’re reading this, that means you’re somewhere around the zone I was about 6 years ago, post pregnancy, post breakdown; when I caught sight of my ramshackle self and not only didn’t recognise my face or body, but I was wearing the clothes my mother had purchased for me from Bon March as opposed... Continue Reading →
Some monsters don’t lurk under your bed; they lay right beside you in it. I’ll be honest with you, I wasn’t the coolest kid growing up. I’ve never had a ‘squad’ and I’ve always been more geek life than thug life. While everyone wore their Take That and Party t-shirts I was writing to my... Continue Reading →
I suppose the correct universal term is ‘parent guilt’ but stuff the PC brigade, I’m going to be gender specific and divulge my understanding of the blasted mummy guilt. I do concede it is an imposed assumption of wrongdoing that afflicts both parties once you take ownership of a mini-person. The truth is, my first... Continue Reading →
Apparently, depression isn’t real, or so we’re led to believe, or at best it’s just a trumped up version of melancholy for society’s weakest to band about as a modern day ‘bad back’ disclaimer, some Monopoly get out of jail free card we can swipe at our employers, as though we’re waiting in line at... Continue Reading →
I know what you’re thinking; what does that fitty from GoT have to do with accepting your body, but that exquisite example of prime time jailbait is the namesake for my pelvic floor tear which for years I avoided touching, let alone braving the mirror #thelaceswereintheywerein (honestly it looked like a blind man had used... Continue Reading →
The phrase death and taxes doesn’t sit right with me; I’ve never once been on the phone to Tax Credits, usually multitasking the pots with putting a wash on while on hold for 20+ minutes, the phone cradled between my shoulder and ear, and some scythe wielding deity of the underworld has materialised in my... Continue Reading →
I wouldn’t say my husband is naive when it comes to most things, that is usually my guilty trait, however, when it came to our nephew’s christening he boldly underestimated the god squad. All he had to do was tell a little fib in response to the question of whether or not he’d been christened,... Continue Reading →
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