“Well, Doctor S said that when it kicked in, I’d know… That it would be like finding light in the dark… I am not really sure that I am seeing the whole light yet?”
The doctor laughed from the bottom of his belly. “Listen, I wouldn’t quite word it as ‘poetically’ – shall we say – as Doctor S put it… but, the tablets are mainly to help build your confidence a bit, which will have a knock on effect on all the other aspects of your life.”
“Is the light more like when someone leaves the hall light on and the light shines through the gap under your bedroom door? Rather than the floodlight I was expecting?” I asked him as I got up to leave his office. He smiled, “Give it time, Pam! Come back and see me in June. And enjoy your holiday!”
It’s foolish to deny the want to be popular. On some level, you want to be popular. It’s okay, everybody does. Everyone wants to be liked and actively seeks validation in belonging to a tribe. Denying it is no use; it’s pure evolution. But the fundamental question to women worldwide should be, which tribe do you want to belong to? The Superficial Squad who value everything materialistic, or the Sincere Tribe who only serve to nurture your best interests?
Valentine’s Day is fast approaching and every shop is literally bursting at the seams with red, pink and white. Not one for overtly outright proclamations of love and PDA’s (I am a Virgo after all), I present to you a series of ‘Alternative Valentine’s Day poems’, written by me.
A few weeks ago, I was at Dubai’s tacky somewhat-but-not theme park, Global Village. I won a giant flamingo on some little ducky fishing game (and when I say giant, I mean GIANT), went a ride on the highest swings, and was then happily chomping my way through a chocolate chip ice cream cone dusted with sprinkles. “I am literally living my childhood dream.” I thought to myself.
On Thursday night, I had a wobbly moment. An albeit brief moment, but a wobbly moment nonetheless. I had a cry on my sofa, then I poured myself a (very large) gin, and I went to bed after about another four of those gins looking like Bridget Jones, only more tragic because I have two cats. Continue reading →
A good friend of mine once told me a story about an ex best friend and her who’d had a bitter and upsetting fall out. I don’t know why the story always stuck in my mind – maybe I resonated with it a bit. Either way, we were walking through the train station, when she told me that she had recently read an article comparing the turmoil of falling out with a best friend, to grief. The article discussed the importance of recognising that a major relationship in your life has effectively died. “As with any death”, she told me, “you need to mourn it.” I always dress in black anyway.