I’ve never really been one to sweat the small stuff.
Said lack of sweating (literally and figuratively), however, existed in my former life. This is now.
As I can only assume is the case for many women since no one wants (or, more accurately, is allowed) to talk about the Big M, I spent most of my pre-perimenopause years blissfully unaware of what was coming for me post-turning 40. Until, that is, what was inevitably coming for me actually came for me.
Being totally ignorant of WTF was happening, I trotted off in search of answers. And as with any…
I’ve always been a big reader.
It all started when Dr. Seuss introduced me to his Cat in the Hat and Green Eggs and Ham, the illustrated hardcopies my mum bought me as a kid often accompanied by a cassette tape (remember those?) with a reading of the book. Ah, I loved them (even though I’m, weirdly, not a fan of audiobooks these days.)
I started hanging out in The Magic Faraway Tree with Enid Blyton quite soon after learning about the hatted cat’s antics before Roald Dahl introduced me to The BFG.
During our weekly catch-up, my friend told me she’s pregnant again.
As with her fiancé, it was a discovery that brought on many exclamations of “f*ck — how did this happen?” before later turning to joy at joining the “we’re having a baby” tribe for the second time.
What she said after revealing the impending arrival of another small person into our fold resonated.
“The thing is, I love being pregnant. What I hate about being pregnant is everyone telling me what I should and shouldn’t do while I’m pregnant.”
The list of things women are told they should and…
Like many women, I’m a good girl.
Since leaving the womb forty-something years ago, I’ve worked hard to meet the societally imposed obligation to always put my pretty face forward. This involves long nurturing an aversion to grey hair, which over the last 15 years has seen me spend countless hours — and thousands of pounds — obliterating offensive greys.
But now I’m in a quandary.
Over time, I’ve increasingly felt my hair dyeing regime is becoming a drain on my time, energy, and bank account. …
Aussie turned Brit. Workaholic perfectionist (reformed). Non-conformist (practising). Television maker by day. Writer for the fun of it by night.