If nothing else, it’ll make you smile.
See you in 2012!
In fact, sometimes, I wish I could go back and tell my younger self a few things. A handful of one-liners or pithy pars that might well have changed my life. I’m pretty sure younger me would have told older me to get stuffed but if she’d allow me to talk, this is what I’d tell Young Spinny in Waiting…
1. Don’t presume you will always have enough money. You won’t. Keep an eye on every aspect of your finances. Maybe take a course in accounting or business studies. Yeah yeah, I know you’ve always been creative but dear, you will be well and truly f**ked if you don’t wise up about how it all works. Save. Don’t max out your credit cards, and find a good accountant (by that I mean one who is reliable but also slightly dodgy).
2. When that rich older guy asks you out when you’re 24 and you say no because he’s too old, go on the date. Then marry him. Don’t sign a pre-nup and cover your backside for when it all goes tits up. You’ll be glad of the security in later life, and if you divorce young enough, you’ll still have time to make babies with someone else.
3. Find a mentor. You will always need someone to turn to, especially after your dad dies when you are 27. If they are influential and successful, all the better.
4. Don’t pile on the weight in your early thirties and then lose it again. You’ll be left with cellulite you will never get rid of. Exercise five times a week, don’t smoke and avoid as many carbs as possible (that one’s for Carb Face). Once your body starts to go, you can’t get it back. Enjoy what you have in your twenties and thirties. You have great legs, boobs and hair – none of these will look as good after 35. Stop criticising your looks every time you glance in the mirror – enjoy your elastic skin and bouncy bits. Have as much sex as you can.
5. Set clear boundaries. Don’t try to be everyone’s friend. Keep something back for you. I spent way too many hours listening to other people’s problems. You don’t get any thanks for it, and when they move on, they won’t remember or be there for you when the time comes. Sad but true. The same goes for family. You cannot fix them – only you – let them live their life while you live yours and don’t feel guilty if you don’t call as often.
6. If you really want kids like you say you do, make it a priority. Get serious around 28-years-old and put the career on a back-burner. Despite what everyone says, it’s actually not that easy to get pregnant after 40. Also, you will be exhausted. I can tell you, your energy levels dip massively, and being woken up every two hours by a demanding little poop machine, is no fun at all (so I’m told).
7. Follow your dreams. Up to a point. When they become nightmares, you know that you’ve taken things too far. By that I mean, if it’s that hard, it probably isn’t right.
8. Remember that despite what they say, you cannot, will not and should not have it all. It’s a big fat myth, and if you are going to come anywhere close to finding contentment in this life, you will be happy with one or the other (family or career). Enjoy the ride, count your blessings and take time to smell the coffee – but don’t drink as much, your teeth will stain and that’s a big no-no, especially if you move to LA (be warned, teeth whitening really hurts).
So Happy New Year younger me.
I love you even though you thought you were right all the time. Turns out, you didn’t know a thing but that’s because you didn’t have me to put on the right track.
…you arrive in London and can’t understand what’s wrong with all those strange, hunched, grey little people you can see from the cab window. *penny drops* Oh yes, they’re old. PROPER OLD.
You can blame the festive season for the relative quiet on this blog for the past few days. I’ve been resting my weary bones (ie, getting drunk, flirting with boys, eating too much and packing).
Wait, what? Packing?
Yes, Hollywood Spinny is re-locating to Europe for a few weeks, so expect all the usual spinster angst but with the added bonus of terrible waiter service, lousy public transport and freezing cold temperatures.
Whose idea was this again?
See you eight hours ahead.
…you notice that the Christmas e-card also contains a link to the sender’s IMdB page.
The imagery, the financial pressure and the general state of being alone on this most family-centric holiday, can be tough to take. I can’t even go on Facebook right now and read the status updates. Well I can but it induces ‘festive tourettes’, so I have to make sure I do it in private.
Here are ten ways to survive the holiday season as a lonesome dove:
Use the festive beer goggles (ie drunken state of your fellow party-goers) to your advantage. Get laid.
Avoid Christmas entirely. Don’t plan to get out of bed til New Year (with or without the hottie you just pulled – see above).
Own your single status, and focus on the positives; you answer to no-one, and conversely, no-one expects anything from you. You have a freedom that many other over-worked wives, mothers and partners crave. Enjoy it.
But don’t be alone at peak ‘why me?’ hours, ie Christmas eve, Christmas morning, New Years Eve – this only makes things seem so much worse.
Be equal parts charming, inappropriate and embarrassing at family functions. This will confuse everyone into forgetting to ask you about whether or not you regret not having children.
Along the same lines, it’s good to remember that histrionics are a vital tool in a spinsters armory. If they do ask you the ‘child’ question, fall to your knees, burst into tears and start wailing until your throat bleeds.
Find a couple who are arguing (the smugger the better), smile at them in a pitying kind of way, and then thank the heavens you don’t have to put up with that shit.
Work out what you’d have spent buying a husband and 2.4 children gifts, then blow the lot on yourself in the sales.
Keep a bottle of Baileys near AT ALL TIMES.
Finally, thank your lucky stars to be where you are. Write down your goals for the New Year, immediately throw them away, and get on with living your life.
Up to this year I could sort of get away with saying I was 37 but I’ve visibly aged. Now all I see in the mirror are my origami cheeks, a forehead with deeper cracks than the GOP, and a neck that a turkey would reject.
Worse, my once thick and lustrous hair is thinning.
I’m dying to have long shiny hair extensions like Kate Beckinsale but they cost $600 upwards, and take hours to attach. I can barely afford a scrunchie from CVS, so it’s not going to happen. Also, I’d rather visit the dentist than the hairdresser, after one over-enthusiastic, under-talented stylist dyed my hair ginger back in 96.
So Santa, you hirsute nonagenarian, bring me hair this Christmas.
Nip down Kate Beckinsale’s chimney, give her buzz cut and hand me her locks – she can afford more. (That’s the Christmas spirit Spinny – ed).
I want to feel the bounce of my curls against my back again, soak up the admiring glances of women, and use it to bed men.
Mostly the latter. My friends used to tell me how much they envied my hair. Men loved it. Tumbling curls are sexy. Empowering, even.
So bring me my weave on this Christmas Eve, and make this lady happy.
*flounces off, flicks hair, hair goes meh*