Nasty Woman

Being Nasty, although uncomfortable, is kind of liberating. I never was Nasty before. I was somewhat compliant, mostly using Gandhi-eque passive resistance when I didn’t want to do something. Nowadays I have to stand on a table and say that forbidden word……


I am a Nasty Woman and I claim my title and all it’s associated crowns, sceptres, ermine robes and sleep-in’s afforded me.

Yesterday I had to be bold in declaring what my requirements were on some legal paperwork.  I’m not in trouble, don’t fret.  I had to get over myself feeling awkward about being seen as “not nice” or “selfish” and just put my big girl knickers on and just do it.  I had to know my worth and declare it.  Now it is for other people to judge but we have a starting place of how I think this should play out.

Being Nasty, although uncomfortable, is kind of liberating.  I never was Nasty before.  I was somewhat compliant, mostly using Gandhi-eque passive resistance when I didn’t want to do something.  Nowadays I have to stand on a table and say that forbidden word……


See, I just used it.  It is forbidden to be used boldly within polite female society.  We are required to make the message softer, more palatable, more easily received and frou-froued with lacy and frilly language.  In meetings we often hear women saying “I don’t know if you have considered this and it is probably not a good fit but…. ” rather than declaring they have a brilliant idea and everyone should get on board for the benefit of all humankind.


It’s pretty out there.  It is rebellious.  It is daring and bold.  It requires no follow up.  It is a statement of fact.

I think NO might be my new favourite word.  My mum will be pleased.  My previously favourite word makes Victorian ladies faint.



I can’t be honest with you

I can’t tell you what’s going on right now, but I can tell you that “my friend” is having a bit of a tough time but she’ll get through it, again.

I can’t be honest with you.  I’m doing great, I’m energetic and enthusiastic, I’m embracing life with all of it’s quirks, I’m physically strong and emotionally strong.

Polly-Hannah, however, might be having a hard time right about now.  She may have stayed under her duvet for most of Saturday – apart form nipping to the bank and quickly getting her eyebrows done – and she may have managed to stay awake for most of Sunday but that’s because she couldn’t stand still without falling asleep on the Saturday so was physically well rested.

Polly-Hannah is managing everything she needs to manage, the work is done, the laundry is folded, the kid is fed, she is replying to the solicitor without delay, she is opening her post, she is keeping appointments with the government at their request, she is managing her budget… technically she’s all over it like white on rice, managing up a storm.  However, it costs her in energy.  Not the “oh, I could do with a 10 minute shut eye” replenishable energy dip, but an energy crisis where even thinking about washing her hair makes her cry.  An absolute crisis. Continue reading “I can’t be honest with you”


The Ladies Room

The ladies room at work has a squeaky door.


The ladies room at work has a squeaky door.

Not at all inconspicuous. Continue reading “The Ladies Room”


Icky feelings can just get lost.

I received an email through channels from my ex and I find myself in a SPLEURGGHHHCH barrel of icky feelings. I regressed into fear.


I received an email through channels from my ex and I find myself in a SPLEURGGHHHCH barrel of icky feelings.  I regressed into fear for a couple of hours, I felt sick and started doubting myself, I started shaking, I felt weepy and weak, I felt worthless, I found myself doing mental acrobatics. Continue reading “Icky feelings can just get lost.”


Next time I will kick you in the shins.

sit down in court and try very nicely not to throw objects at each other or do Mafia sign language across the table or allude to “sleeping with da fishes” to my Barrister or yelling “I Want All The Sweets” (all him, not me!)


So, in the eternal quest to become unmarried and fairly divide our family assets despite opposition from the other party involved, we now have a court date for early December.

Mr Pollyanna wants to be divorced but doesn’t want to share our sweets.

I never wanted to get to the point where a divorce was required but now I want to be divorced and share our sweets.

There’s an impasse. Continue reading “Next time I will kick you in the shins.”


Love and Wait

When the incident happened, there was a huge emotional fallout. We were traumatised, me and Missy. I had to be traumatised in private but it sometimes slipped and slips out during sacrament meeting at church.  The huge dosage of trauma was borne by the child, who was the person to whom the event was directed. I was only injured in the rescue so that is nothing in comparison.  We got to safety and have a good life.

Swiftly my daughters choices of fashion changed to be army boots, cut black jeans, ragged tops, black baggy clothes, emo makeup which included lots of black lipstick. I was frightened that she had forever lost her peace, her joy, her happiness.

I decided to love her and wait and serve. I waited and I waited.

Continue reading “Love and Wait”


Blacks and the priesthood

I am white, my daughter is mixed race – English, Irish, Jamaican.

We are LDS Mormons.

Many people have heard her speak at church and share her feelings on how the Gospel influences her life and the life of those around her – school friends, family and peers.

I ask this:

Is there a person on the planet who can deny that goodness and “light” shines from that child when she speaks on these subjects?

Do you perceive that she was less valiant in the pre-existence?

Do you believe she is descended from a “dark and loathsome” people?

If I ever have to hear “the blacks did not receive the priesthood and ordinances because they were less valiant in the pre-existence” I caution you now, I will correct you, vociferously.

Goodness runs through that kid like words through a stick of rock candy at the seaside.

She, nor her peers, were ever less valiant.  They were survivors of racism.

If you say it, if you think it, stop now.  Never say it again.  Never think it again without correcting yourself.

This is me giving you notice on the subject.

Don’t You Dare.