We’ve all been there. It usually happens in our youth, but some of us are caught out in later years too. I’m talking about the thing that can turn a confident, “zero-f*cks” kind of woman into a blathering mess on the bathroom floor, after she’s tried every technique known to mankind and Vidal Sasson to rectify the situation. You know it: The Worst Haircut Of Your Life. If we’re lucky, we only have one disaster to regale our friends with but unfortunately for me, and fortunately for you, I have several.
Stories about the inspirational, infuriating, hilarious, flawed people I surround myself with.
I’m a woman’s woman. There are some great men in my life, and I’m married to one of the best, but given a choice of being in a room full of men or women, I’ll opt for the latter.
I love Pink. Not the colour (it washes me out) but the singer. If I put aside my contempt for the way her name is written (P!nk? Really?) she’s on my Top Ten Best Chicks List, which is another blog post entirely.
So, like many of you, I have a mother. She’s 86 years old, tiny like a bird, and (in my admittedly subjective opinion) one of the Last Surviving Real Ladies. Caps intended.
And, like some of you, I have a daughter, whose name is the same (what a coincidence!). She’s ten years old, strong and fast, and flips between girly princess mode and slightly gross mode, in that uniquely ten-year-old fashion.