Saturday, 14 February 2015

Pic n' Mix, Poo and Potter: A Valentines Story

The first time I had a boyfriend at Valentines Day was a momentous occasion. Finally - finally FINALLY - I would get a card, and maybe even some flowers. You may have detected a hint of desperation for this to finally happen and you're not wrong. I was 17 at the time. In my mind, I was very late to the Valentines party and I was tired of pretending I didn't want to attend (I really, really did).

So when I eventually did have a boyfriend at Valentines it was a big effing deal. This was going to be the best day ever.

He was 21 and I felt so bloomin' scandalous because hello - a 4 year age gap. Before we even kissed, my best friend and I discussed at length whether his age would be a problem. Would he expect me to have sex with him? Would we have anything in common? Would he find me too immature and inexperienced? It required a whole sleepover and two bags of maltesers to reach a decision. We concluded that yes, it would be acceptable for me to go out with him.

You see, there were undeniable positives to having an older boyfriend. He could drive us around. He could buy us alcohol. And the cool girls at school would totally respect me more than the other nerds for having a boyfriend over 20.

Friday, 13 February 2015

Perfection? I'll have some Perspective please

For the over-achievers, dreamers and impatient souls amongst us.

In films and television (even the deceivingly feel-good faves, like Bridget Jones and Friends), the age of 30 is this looming deadline by which you must have perfected your life. We feel like we have to have successful and rewarding careers, a wedding ring or at the very least be engaged to The One, have a baby on the way, a mortgage, a 5-door car, at least one investment designer handbag and a good anti-ageing skin regime. 

I understand this crazy need to perfect and work, work, work to achieve. When I was 18 I would have told you with absolute certainty that I was going to be engaged by 27. My fiance and I would both want a couple of extra years for our amazing careers before we actually got married at 29. Then after a year of blissful marriage, we would try for a baby. I’d get pregnant and have a baby boy first (his little sister to follow 3 years later), and I’d take a year - no more, no less - out of work, before returning to run my media empire and seamlessly juggle a perfect career/family balance.