Dating: The era of the time-waster *disclaimer. I am aware not all men are like this, if you wish to seek offence please find a location less sarcastic. Thanking you. The 12th Century gave us Ghengis Khan, the warlord who’s very name struck fear into the hearts of others. The 16th Century gave us Henry the Eighth, the man who tore apart the country to marry the “commoner” Anne Boleyn. The 20th Century gave us Luther King, Einstein, John Paul Sartre, Orwell. 2018 gave us Micheal from Tinder, a serial time waster. The guy who can’t text back. The evolution … Continue reading Dating: The Era Of The Time Waster
There’s an idealised image of your own parental prowess in mind, even before the sperm hits the egg you fantasise of the model citizens you will bring into the world. Screaming children in roadside cafes make you roll your eyes, “I would never let my children behave like that.” You think, as you sip your latte in the obnoxious tranquility bequeathed you by childlessness. Then the literal shit hits the fan. Mountains of the stuff. It no longer becomes imperative that your children behave well in cafes, as you just want them to eat the lunch you wasted a … Continue reading The greatest gifts you can give your children
There are several versions of me, as I think there are several versions of everyone. There’s the girl with Chinese good luck cats on her socks and no make-up on, or there’s the woman in a tight black play suit with a splash of red lipstick. There’s the slob with the pizza box at her bedside, or the crazy bitch that leaves half an hour early to get to the train because having ten minutes to get there makes her nervous. There’s Mummy, Bitch, Lover, Friend a la Alanis Morisette. Do prospective partners get to see the socks and the … Continue reading Do you like yourself when you are with him?
In an era in which there are probably pharmaceutical solutions to aid your goldfish with her seasonal affective disorder, it’s hard to sink your well worn amygdala into the wormhole of brain altering medications. It took a long time for me to accept that I probably needed more substantial help for my chronic anxiety than a bottle of vodka and a nightclub in Vauxhall. I was living in denial. The idea of accepting medical help seemed “weak”. I didn’t want to be one of those people who “took pills”, forever categorised in the crazy heap. Taking pills meant locking oneself … Continue reading Why Anxiety Medication is Nothing to be Ashamed Of
With the dawn of the digital era, human beings and people who like baked beans have merged with their personal electronic devices. We can now order a pizza, a sex buddy and a wardrobe within a matter of seconds- without moving from our self-imposed blanket and Netflix prisons. We have two selves, one of which is not congruent with reality. Trickled down titbits of our best moments and poses piece together a disturbing idealised puzzle, of which we will inevitably fall short. Where does this leave our children? It’s all too easy to toss an iPad or a phone … Continue reading Have we lost our children to technology?
If I were a man I wouldn’t be worrying about the lines on my forehead. If I were a man my worth wouldn’t be defined by what I see in the mirror. If I were a man I wouldn’t feel the pressure to look forever young. If I were a man I wouldn’t turn the page of every magazine, thinking all my problems would be solved if I looked a certain way. There may be 1 in 100 men who feel this way, maybe 2. But for women it’s the majority of us. Trained like dogs to salivate at the … Continue reading The Feminist Matrix
It’s been three years since I’ve given birth. I envisioned I would reduce back down to my previous figure, with the consumption of seaweed and cigarettes. Alas, the pouch remains. It’s the thing that makes all my outfits look lumpy as fuck, like I’m smuggling a deflated rubber ring into various establishments. It’s the little ingredient that makes swimwear shopping so hard. No matter how much weight I lose it’s always there, hanging over my jeans like a droopy lip. I swear at it, pinch at it, bind it up in corsets, I abuse it daily. It doesn’t get the … Continue reading Sometimes. I f**king hate my body !