Living with a teenager feels like I have paid someone to hang shit on me every day. It’s great for my self worth to have someone tease me at regular intervals.
In the fashion stakes I’m in the mode of upgrading from slurry single mummy to fashionista, lead by my teenage daughter. She wears loads of make up. I don’t. She has clothes all over her bedroom floor. I try not to. I also try hard not to have tantrums about my needs not being met.
My wardrobe is improving but I wear Crocs to work. Just to make my teenager squirm. So daggy, but so practical. I bought my teenage fashion victim, I mean queen, a pair of Croc boots. She won’t wear them. Lucky I bought them in my size. This song is for you darling