I wish I had something more profound to write, after 8 months in the blog wilderness. Unfortunately, I have consumed a paralysing cocktail of champagne and apple martinis (separately, of course) at a gallery opening this evening, and I cannot even see the separate words on the page in front of me, much less form them into coherent sentences.
I have no acceptable excuse for neglecting the blog for so long. All I can offer in defence is that between working a 12 hour day, dealing with modern day bureaucracy (I shall share the story of my lack of internet since 4 July another time), hauling my unmetabolised ass over to the gym in a desperate bid to return a Size Zero (sniff), holding down a relationship, and generally trying to be fabulous, there just haven’t been enough hours in the day to write about my life as well as live it.
I’m sorry, Feminist mothers. This is your legacy, I’m afraid. You fought for us to have everything, and we’re half killing ourselves in the attempt to meet this impossible expectation.
I have no acceptable excuse for neglecting the blog for so long. All I can offer in defence is that between working a 12 hour day, dealing with modern day bureaucracy (I shall share the story of my lack of internet since 4 July another time), hauling my unmetabolised ass over to the gym in a desperate bid to return a Size Zero (sniff), holding down a relationship, and generally trying to be fabulous, there just haven’t been enough hours in the day to write about my life as well as live it.
I’m sorry, Feminist mothers. This is your legacy, I’m afraid. You fought for us to have everything, and we’re half killing ourselves in the attempt to meet this impossible expectation.
