I write about being sick.
I write about being a female.
I write about being a sick female.
And also some other stuff.
I like cats.
Much like an old-school private members club, women are picked from the constantly growing list by Bateman himself, allowing him to personally design his very own Instagrammable girl gang.
There is not time to waste being made to cry in bathrooms or to put on a brave face at dinner. Spend these days with the people who make you happy, who love you, who want the best for you. And if you look around and decide the only person who makes you happy is yourself, then spend it alone.
But now your thighs touch at the top. In the summer they rub together when you walk and feel like they might start a fire. They spread across seats like honey, they are soft, and they flow and ripple as you move. For a long time, I hated them, but I don’t hate them anymore.
And that is why debating this stuff is exhausting and draining and often futile - because this whole story boils down to the fact that a man going to a Porsche convention tried to make me feel guilty for taking baby clothes to a refugee camp. And he genuinely thought he was in the right.
You were once a feminist (and make sure you tell everyone that, so you get the credit you deserve, you champ!) but you have stopped being one now because it’s all gone “too far”. Your main source of anger and outrage seems to be that you can’t, in theory, give Liz in the office a hug lest she parade you through the streets naked and castrated, ringing a bell and screaming “shame”.
Fascinated by the horror of it all, I could never look away, and the bad news kept on coming; missing children, brutal murders, natural disasters, economic crises, corrupt dictators. I drank them all in from the comfort of my sofa. It’s a morbid addiction that I wish I didn’t have to feed.
My mum used to chastise me for cheating in The Sims, assuring me “You can’t cheat in real life”. But growing up as a Millennial made me realise that you can cheat in real life, it’s just that not everybody gets the same codes. As teenagers we would share the codes we found scrolling through early games forums, and copy and paste them to each other on MSN. Offline, people are less willing to share.
I don’t blame the doctor who put me on the wrong medication at the instruction of a consultant. I don’t blame the consultant. I blame the sighs, the smirks between colleagues, the constant insistence that it was all in my head. Those things are not human error, they are human insensitivity.
School felt like something I could be great at, but that was slipping through my fingers whilst I sat in a room that smelt of antiseptic and explained to an old man that I thought I was going insane.
You are the greatest therapist I ever had, because you made me realise I am not alone. I have driven with you, showered with you, you have shared my bed, you have shared my heart.
Food is delicious and pleasurable and enjoyable. It is sociable. It is unctuous and crumbly and gooey and crunchy. It runs down your chin and sticks to your fingers, splashes down your t-shirt and gets stuck in your teeth. Food bring us together. Food is not medicine.
I should point out here that we weren’t a particularly religious family, but that didn’t stop me recording the Bible onto tapes aged 6 to try and combat this worrying issue. Can you imagine anything creepier to listen to than a little girl solemnly reading Bible stories into a cassette player? Because I certainly can’t.
By 2006, I have ditched the alcopops and moved on to vodka and diet coke. I like vodka and diet coke because it doesn’t make me feel quite so unwell, and I think it’s classy. Sure.
My sadness lurked in the back of my head and soothed me with the lies that it told me in my own voice, calmly stroking my hair and telling me I wasn’t good enough.
It is not always somebody screaming at you to eat less, sometimes it is simply somebody taking away your plate before you are finished eating.
“Language is so important, if we change how we use it among our friends it has a ripple effect.”
Read the article here: How #MeToo has affected our daily lives: Five women share their stories