Life isn’t as lovely as it should be. Yesterday the man I adored as a teenager made a game out of spotting the grey hairs on my head and taking an irrational amount of pleasure in yanking them out like a flea-picking monkey. (It was probably the defining moment of my romantic life but don’t tell him that…). Then this morning I found myself super-glueing the bedroom curtain pole to the wall so the fright that is hearing things that go crash in the night and finding myself staring at the moon where there should be only cream chenille never has to be suffered again.
When one finds oneself doing battle with life on a daily basis one has to seek respite. Respite for me come in the form of Piers Morgan and a fish finger buttie. It can be found too in Heat magazine. In Scooby Doo and red liqorice laces sucked in spectacular fashion into my mouth. It is ketchup with everything and Britney Spears latest disaster. It is spending hours playing silly games of "Would ya?" with Kath (Ok, so to save the planet you’ve got to sleep with either David Hasselhoff or Gordon Brown. Which one are you having?) and stringing a truly awful set of pink fluffy heart shaped
In other words it is trash.
Virtue has never been my middle name. Try as I might I can’t be the kind of woman who lies in bed at night worrying about the amount of salt my son has consumed that day. Much as I adore housework I will happily abandon the ironing for an hour with the Loose Women. I scandalise myself on a regular basis, feel mildly confused by my ability to switch oh so very easily between great literature and The National Enquirer and occasionally, and I can’t believe I am about to admit this, occasionally feel almost orgasmically happy on a Sunday afternoon with a plate of black pudding and The News of the World…
From the very beginning of
There is no shame in trash occasionally. Consider me your mentor in a life less perfect. Perfection you see, is exhausting. Trash is life affirming, energising, thrilling, and a teeny bit naughty. So all hail the naughty girl in the pretty pinny! The yummy mummies at the school gate may not quite approve of her silly shoes and maybe her mum worries about her a bit more than she needs too… but the naughty, trashy girl knows what it is to be alive…
Oh bless me. I’ve got no shame have I? But there is a time and a place for virtue and today isn’t it.