I want what she’s got. And vice versa.

I had an interesting email exchange with a close friend earlier this week.

She wants to join Twitter but thinks that she hasn’t got anything to say because she’s a stay-at-home mum, wife and childminder.

We’re as close as sisters but we’re living completely opposite lives.

MumFriend, as she shall now be known, sometimes dreams of having my life, and I often think about what it might be like to have hers. We met at work, so her life has done a complete about-turn. Her husband and kids are amazing but I think she feels she’s missing out. I beg to differ.

Both are lives are valid, and if you put them together, we are the perfect woman with the perfect life. But why is it so hard for us to recognise what we have and enjoy it?

MumFriend: Dipping my toe into Twitter, still not convinced. Struggling to find anything interesting to say about myself in my bio tho. Suggestions?

Spinny: Just say what you are, Zumba-loving, married mother of two, childminder, and foodie. Basically something fun, that relates to your everyday life – because that’s why people will follow you. Excited to have you on on twitter!

MumFriend: The problem is that I’ve tried a few like that and any such description makes me want to kill myself. I don’t want to put I’m a mum, or a wife and definitely not a childminder. Do you see my problem. Dullsville.

Spinny: But those are all the things you are! I don’t understand. I’d be so proud if that was me. The only other you can do is make up a character and be someone else but I’m not sure why you’d do that. Personally, I’d like to read your real life tweets from the school gates, kitchen, mother-in-laws etc. The accounts that resonate with people are the ones that are really honest.

MumFriend: I don’t want to make someone up, that’s not my point. Just want to feel my life is a bit more exciting than it is or at least think of something a bit witty to say so I don’t sound like some frumpy 40-something who is defined by her kids (however true that might be!!!) Have clearly got a long way to go with this!!!!

Spinny: I’m not sure you should do it, but what worries me more is that you think you’re a frumpy 40-something who is defined by her kids and see it in a bad light. I think it’s amazing. You are the ying to my yang! At the risk of going all Oprah, I think you need to OWN where you are at right now, and be proud of it. You ARE a mum of two, you ARE a wife, you ARE a childminder, you ARE 40-plus (thank god you caught up with me!).  You are NOT a frump, defined by nothing. You are doing the hardest job in the world and because you’re a writer you can make all of that sound interesting and funny. And let me tell you this for nothing (lady). Exciting lives don’t really exist. Hollywood is a slog. The glamour you see is fake and hard-won, and people compromise and lose part of their soul chasing whatever they think is out there. I got out of my car the other night and nearly died at the onslaught of withering looks the so-called beautiful people gave me as they looked me up and down. You are missing NOTHING. I hate being out there alone. You have a family who ADORE you. You’re an amazing mum. What you are doing is REAL, and I have nothing but respect for you.

*puts soap-box away*

I’m waiting for her reply to this last rousing email.

There’s a lesson here. I think. It may be ‘Enjoy what you have’, or ‘Don’t join Twitter’ but isn’t it crazy that we always covet what we don’t have.



3 Comments on “I want what she’s got. And vice versa.”

  1. […] Hollywood Spinster | Leave a comment » I wanted to share with you an email I just sent to MumFriend (who I’ve mentioned here before), who wanted to know how I lost my […]

  2. Carrie says:

    I liked this. It was well written, well researched, and cited. As I was reading this, I thought, too, of the “bluestockings.” They were romanticized in some literature. I can’t remember her name, but I remember studying one who would smoke cigars and drink with the men.

    • Thanks Carrie. I’m going to have to research ‘bluestockings’ now. Although, I think I may have been one. When I was a much younger journalist in London, in the mid 1990’s, I would drink with the guys from the lad’s mags, and smoke cigars. Oh happy days! *cough, splutter*

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