IN TRYING TO PLEASE ALL, HE HAD PLEASED NONE.

‘I have Social Disease. I have to go out every night. If I stay home one night I start spreading rumours to my dogs.’ – Andy Warhol.

I wakened in the morning with sore butt cheeks, an open wound running down my spine and a slight bald patch at my crown, a result of spending the majority of the night practicing my Dandy Pike head balance. My mind felt like mince and I can barely recall the taxi ride home.

How the hell did this happen again? I’d pledged a vow of sobriety. A vow that lasted approximately three and a half hours.

The silliness started in the ladies room at Dukes Corner. Titi and I gave overwhelmed onlookers a rendition of ‘Hard Knock Life’ and ‘Little Girls’ after downing two espresso martinis and a shot of tequila each. Snapping my favourite Vivienne Westwood shoes while attempting to break dance with a bunch of B-boys who had taken over the dance floor. Titi and I throwing around shapes trying to keep up with the talented bunch.

I’d taken the car, I’d even parked it in a restricted area, my poor attempt at having a well-behaved evening. I’d been asked along by Titi to The Onion Club, a noir cabaret performed by Pauline M Hynd, an absolute star and my latest ‘Wumin Crush’.

The show was dark, deep and mysterious. Songs about love provocatively performed in body hugging slips under printed kimonos and a long black over coat. Feminist poems recited in French accompanied by skillful musicians hypnotically rattling piano keys, completing the jazz vibe with a magnetic brass section. Pauline kept the crowd engaged in between numbers with witty one liners and hilarious costume changes. A cover of Surabaya Johnny made my night, Titi and I chanting the lyrics throughout the rest of our eventful evening. Slugging from a bottle of whiskey on stage, Pauline’s black bob perfectly swinging through the melodic chanting. Love, world issues and politics with an uplifting hint of sarcasm, Pauline reminded me of myself and her performance felt as though it had been imagined in my head and put on stage in pursuit of trying to clear my mind of the slight turmoil I’d been feeling through the pervious week.

‘I never said it would be easy… I only said it would be worth it…’ – Mae West.

So my mum posted an uncompromising photo and it hurt…..

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We aim to please. It’s only natural to have the urge to impress and there is no one we aim to please more than our parents. We have an inbuilt mechanism that encourages us to attempt anything plausible to make our parents proud, we try with subconscious might not to disappoint the people we love most.

I, unfortunately, have always been a disappointment.

As a young kid I ran away from primary school, ripping up my coursework and throwing my reading book in the burn. My teenage years saw me smash windows in my family home, kick through walls and doors and get brought home from the police on numerous occasions. As a young adult I squatted on various friends couches, not allowing my parents to know too much information about my location. I fell pregnant at 21. I have formidably and with no doubt regrettably done everything possible to make my parents feel quite the opposite of pride. I turn 30 next month and I still continue to disappoint them. To their dismay, I ended my ten year relationship over a year ago and I can still sense, see and hear the dissatisfaction anytime the subject arises.

Too bad. As selfish as it may sound I’ve learned to realise and to understand that if I want to live a happy life and have a positive outlook of myself then the only person I should aim to please is me. I’m not perfect and I like it that way, I refuse to succumb to the pressures of popular culture or become embroiled in any sort of competitive rat race. I’m confident in what I have become and aim to pursue the things that make me thrive in life. I know in time my parents will be proud, if they allow me to be myself with fewer expectations.

For in the way you judge, you will be judged.

‘For two extraordinary years I have been working on it – but mostly learning how to tell the truth. At first it is quite impossible. You make yourself better than anybody, then worse than anybody, and when you finally come to see you are “like” everybody – that is the bitterest blow of all to the ego. But in the end it is only the truth, no matter how ugly or shameful, that is right, that fits together, that makes real people, and strangely enough – beauty…’― Louise Brooks.

Long live the VEF and be yourself, become your own Queen.imageimageimageimageimageimageimage

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