Some people write blog posts about cute things like autumn fashion and their skincare routines and then hello hi here is me.
Having a baby has played absolute fucking havoc with my hormones and my emotions.
I used to like a good cry before but wow ok sure, now it’s like OMG A CANCER ADVERT LET ME SIT HERE AND SILENTLY WEEP INTO MY BABY’S SLEEPSUIT.
So I thought, in the interest of keeping things ~ReAl~ I would document all the things that have made me a bit teary over the past 31 days.
I hope someone can relate or have a silent lol to themselves on my behalf. Here goes…
1. A £5.99 sleepsuit setting off the alarms in Westfield Stratford when I was half an hour late for a shoot and UNABLE TO FIND A PAIR OF FUCKING BLACK TROUSERS TO GO OVER MY GIGANTIC BUM.
2. A train ticket lady who told me off for sitting in First Class when I only had a Standard Class ticket. My fault entirely, except one of her colleagues had told me to sit there because it was the only spot with room for a pram. Would have probably been OK if she didn’t have such a hideously patronising Dolores Umbridge tone about her. ‘I will let you off this ONE time, but next time…’. Thanks hun, appreciate been spoken to like a naughty seven-year-old kid on the playground. Can promise you I wasn’t omg so desperate to get one over on you and sit in first class with all the rich men in suits.
3. Dolly Alderton’s Everything I Know About Love. Most notably the chapter entitled ‘Florence’.
4. Reciting the story about Dolores Umbridge to my pal Debs a week after it happened. The bit that got me was reliving whispering ‘mummy loves you’ over and over again to Atti as I silently wept whilst surrounded by strangers.
5. Uploading a blog post, sharing on Twitter and then walking away from it for the day. Then coming back later that evening and thinking ‘heh, wondered if it’s had any comments’ and then being absolutely FLOORED by the responses. And not in the good way. In the ‘are you OK to look after the baby for five whilst I lock myself in the bathroom and try and compose myself?’ way.
6. My first cystitis bout in three years taking hold of me and trying to kill me. I cried big meaty ‘I need an epidural’ tears as I pissed tiny shards of glass (not really) into a fancy marble toilet in a Kent seaside hotel.
7. A follower tagging me in their Instagram post with beautiful and kind words about me and I didn’t even realise I needed to hear them because I was feeling so chipper and happy and it’s just fucking delicious when we’re nice to each other isn’t it. ‘I so wish we could bottle her positivity and hand one to every woman who suffers from insecurities about her body.’ Weep weep weep.
8. Being overwhelmed by emails and work briefs and re-shooting content and contracts whilst trying to solo parent in the exact same breath. Letting one tear poetically fall down my cheek before pulling myself together and hustling like a bad ass bitch.
9. Writing an Instagram caption reflecting on the reality behind an old image I’d uploaded the previous year whilst doing a West Coast road trip. I mentioned feeling caught up in a web of grief following the death of my darling Babcia a few weeks previously and referenced Ed Sheeran’s ‘Supermarket Flowers’. I had the lyrics in my head for hours afterwards, and then, in a moment of sofa solitude, I let myself feel the raw grief all over again.