It’s Sunday, Lunchtime, and I can mum’s roast cooking. I heard the number on the radio while sitting in the Tesco car park, engine off, the last of a flat white going cold. Some official lot had put out a forecast. The average woman born in the late nineties or early two-thousands will not…
I’m heading home early. It’s not because something went wrong, or because I’m trying to escape anything in particular. I’m going home mainly because the list of things I miss has finally outgrown the reasons to stay here. It’s been building up for weeks, slowly at first, then all at once. I kept convincing myself…
It came up in the livestream the other night and half the comments were the usual soft, Instagram-friendly bollocks. “Just focus on yourself.” “Time heals all wounds.” “Journal and go to therapy.” Lovely. Really helpful when you’re lying in bed at 3 a.m. wondering why you weren’t enough and whether he’s already shagging someone else….
I went out with Lisa yesterday and within about twenty minutes of being outside I was suddenly, painfully, and quite dramatically aware of how small my boobs are. It wasn’t even a gradual thing. One minute I was fine, chatting away, enjoying the sun on my face, and the next I was walking past women…
I was in central Bradford yesterday seeing an old friend and I genuinely thought I was going to melt into the pavement. Not in a sexy, sun-kissed, Mediterranean kind of way either. No. I mean proper sticky, sweaty, uncomfortable, “why the fuck is my thighs chafing in June” heat. The kind of heat that…