I am writing this before I get my period because I am so sure it will arrive today or tomorrow.
This month I had an insemination (IUI) after a couple of years of trying naturally. (If you want to know what that involved, have a read of my previous blog article). In the weeks leading up to the procedure, I saw a holistic lady at a fertility clinic who told me what foods and activities I should/shouldn’t avoid. I strictly followed all her advice. I didn’t drink alcohol. I didn’t eat tuna. I didn’t swim. I ate walnuts and blueberries. I went to McDonald’s for fries after the IUI (apparently the salt is good). I even had a full body “healing” massage before the procedure.
And here I am. Yet another month of aunt flow arriving. It makes me wonder WHAT MORE DOES MY BODY WANT FROM ME?Sperm was inserted directly into my uterus, timed perfectly to meet the egg. The body had all the nutrients it needed and I avoided anything that might jeopardise a pregnancy. I feel exasperated. How much longer can I cope with this emotional turmoil?
Ok, so I wrote the above on Wednesday 27th July, it is now Monday 1st August. I was right, my period was coming. In fact that night I received a blood test result showing that I wasn’t pregnant. All that emotional and physical effort, not to mention the money spent on treatment – down the drain.
However, I am fortunate enough to see a fertility counsellor and had an appointment with her the next day. She helped me to see a way forward and not to get stuck on the misery of another negative test result.
She suggested that it is time I see a fertility specialist. So far I have been having private treatment through my gynaecologist, who is not specialised in fertility. My counsellor explained that a specialist may do things a little differently and is more likely to keep up to date with new techniques and medications.
I have since booked an appointment with a fertility specialist and I am feeling much more positive. I am going to start afresh and change my mindset.
I am not one for believing in things like The Secret so hadn’t considered my negative thoughts could be having an impact on getting pregnant. However, I have been reading the book The Expectation Effect, which has changed my perspective. The author uses peer-reviewed studies to show how much power the mind has over the body. He writes about the patient-doctor relationship and how this can have an impact on how the patient responds to treatment. Research has shown that if a doctor shows their patient empathy and fosters trust, the treatment is more likely to work.
My appointment with the specialist is tomorrow and I’m so excited to continue my journey with a more positive frame of mind.
My husband and I have gone through two rounds of fertility treatment using Clomid – a medication to make me produce more eggs.
When our second round failed I thought I can’t cope if this doesn’t work out again, but here I am. I am ok.
This month we started our third round and we’ve upped our game. We have chosen to go for an IUI, insemination, to increase our chances. Making a baby the traditional way now sees like something from romantic fiction.
The insemination involved my husband having to do his business into a container, followed by my gynaecologist inserting his sperm directly into my uterus. The whole thing was weird.
I collected his “washed” sample from the hospital (filtered so only good sperm remaining), and transported it to the clinic where the procedure would take place. I was told to keep it in my bra. You give me my husband’s precious sperm then you ask me to stuff it in my bra like a tenner?!
I imagined the procedure would be done at the same hospital my husband had gone to, but I had to drive 45 minutes with the tube in between my boobs to a different location.
My husband was working that day so I drove myself to the clinic, which in hindsight wasn’t the best idea. I came across road closures and traffic so my stress levels were rising. There also wasn’t parking outside the clinic so I had to park a few minutes away and walk in Maltese summer heat, the whole time worrying that his sperm might be over heating.
When I arrived, I told the receptionist that I was having an IUI so time was of the essence, and I went straight through.
The procedure didn’t take long at all. It was uncomfortable but not painful. Afterwards, I was told to lay on the bed for 30 minutes, presumably so it wouldn’t fall out.
I passed the time quickly by looking through Twitter. I added to the sexiness of the whole thing by reading about the Boris saga and the UK PM leadership race. Maybe I should have looked through holiday pics of me and my husband, but as a catheter had just been up me I thought there’s no point trying to make this magical in anyway.
And now the anxious wait begins. We have got through six days of the two week wait. Time is passing slowly. I am finding it difficult to think positively about it. I feel like it hasn’t worked. I don’t want to tell any of my loved ones this is what I’m thinking, and maybe I shouldn’t even be saying that here – think positive thoughts and all that.
If it doesn’t work, it will be devastating. It upsets me to think of the disappointment my husband will have to go through again. He tries hard to put a brave face on when I know this is difficult for him too. But we will be ok. Everything will be ok.
I’m on round two of Clomid. This month my consultant tells me I have two good eggs on the side of my open Fallopian tube. She tells me to have sex every night for the next three days. My husband and I do what the doctor orders, and so begins the anxious wait.
As usual, the wait is over days before I even get my period. Those dastardly cramps arrive just one week after my ovulation. And, as usual, I tell myself maybe these are ovulation cramps. Then the next day comes, and the cramps are still there. Then a few days go by and the cramps are getting stronger. All hope has dwindled. The best thing now is to get my period over and done with so I can reset yet again.
On a month where everything was right on paper, it’s even more painful that it hasn’t worked. I feel like my body is being a stubborn arsehole.
Ok, arsehole, be that way. I’ll make it even easier for you next time, will you be happy then?
We’re going to go for insemination on our next round. The only problem is, if even that doesn’t work, the disappointment will be amplified. But we must try.
This is the story of my fertility journey so far. 2020 was the year both my husband and I felt “ready” to start a family. At that point we had been together for ten years, married for two and were both 28 years old. I have wanted a baby for years, probably just a few months after meeting my now husband if I’m being honest, but such a life changing decision has to be a mutual one. Being a mum is something I’ve dreamt of since I was three years old, and as I got further into my twenties, I worried that it might not be so easy to fall pregnant. When we got married, I said to my husband that I’d hate to be one of those couples who does ovulation tests, turning sex into a chore rather than spontaneous enjoyment. However, my husband has a rather chilled nature and it’s something that never concerned him. I am convinced that he thought we’d start trying for a baby and we would have one in our arms the next day (I know that’s impossible but I’m sure that’s what was going on in his man brain!)
In February 2020 we decided to ditch contraception, beginning a new chapter in our lives as a couple. By October that year we still hadn’t conceived, so on a routine visit to the gynecologist I mentioned that we’d been trying. She informed me that we weren’t, medically speaking, “trying” as we weren’t having sex every 2-3 days. She did an ultrasound to check if she could see any problems, but everything looked normal, so she told me to start properly trying and visit her again in six months if I still wasn’t pregnant. Six months passed, seven months passed, eight months passed.. I ended up letting 13 months of no pregnancy go by before I called back. Each month I waited in hope that my period wouldn’t come and kept putting off the appointment. But sure enough every few weeks I’d start to feel cramps coming on and knew that Aunt Flow was on her way. I’d hang onto hope that maybe these were early pregnancy cramps, so much so that every single month when I got twinges, I would obsessively Google the same question in a quest for someone to tell me I could still be pregnant: “Can I have period cramps but be pregnant?”.
Then, a few days later my period would make an appearance. “Fuck”. Another month gone. At first the disappointment showed itself in sadness but after a while, seeing red made me see red! I’d get so angry with myself – what’s the problem here?! How difficult can this be? I realised that it was probably time to seek help after over a year of disappointment, so I made an appointment to see my gynecologist again and my husband booked himself in for a sperm test.
The consultant read said my husband’s test results were normal, so they’d need to do some tests on me. She began by referring me to the hospital to have a HSG X-ray, which checks if there are any blockages in the fallopian tubes, and to have my bloods taken to check my hormone levels. My bloods came normal (great news!) so now all I needed to do was the HSG.
On the day of the X-ray, I drove to the hospital in pretty high spirits thinking everything would be fine. Unfortunately, by the time I left the appointment my mood had completely changed. I was informed that one of my tubes was blocked and that I would need to speak to my consultant to see what the next steps would be.
I had no idea what this all meant; would I need IVF? What caused the blockage? Will everything be oK? A (long) week later I saw my gynecologist again, this time my husband came along. She started with positive news – we wouldn’t need IVF yet as with one good tube there were other options. She explained that I could take medication (Clomid) to make me produce more eggs and take an injection to make sure the eggs get released. She also said that, along with this medication, insemination was an option (the male partner ejaculates into a pot and his sperm is inserted into the female at the right place and the right time by a medical professional). My husband didn’t like the sound of that, so our consultant suggested we try for three months the old-fashioned way and see how we get on.
I had to wait for my period before I could start taking Clomid; I think this must have been the first time in my life I was excited for my time-of-the-month to come. On the second day of my period, I started taking the medication and on day ten I went to the clinic for an ultrasound to check that I was ovulating. Smiling with positivity, my consultant told me I had three “really good eggs” and told me exactly when we should have sex. I was so happy with the news and went straight home to show my husband the ultrasound image of my three juicy eggs! The next day I took the injection and made sure we got jiggy with it over the next couple of days. Then the agonising wait began. I tried everything to keep myself calm to increase the chances of an egg fertilising and making itself at home in my womb. I ran myself a nice hot bath and soaked in bubbles by candlelight. I meditated. I did some yoga. I listened to chill-out music.
Twelve days after taking the injection, my chilled mood turned into panic when I started to get cramps. It hasn’t worked, I told myself, and my mind became a dark place. I thought if it hasn’t worked this month, it might not next month, and if it doesn’t work next month, it might never work. If it never works, I’ll be childless forever. If I’m never going to be a mum, I’ve failed as a wife. What is the point of existing on this earth? It’s safe to say I was quick to catastrophise.
We are now on day five of those cramps. Over the past few days, I have spent hours scrolling through Google and Mumsnet in my monthly attempt to find hope that I could still be pregnant. I found comments like: “I was 100% sure my period was coming and then I got a BFP!” (big fat positive test). But deep down I feel l know my body and I know what’s coming. I was right. This morning I had the very unwelcomed visit from Aunt Flo, meaning our first round of treatment was unsuccessful.
TTC – trying to conceive
At the moment I am feeling strangely calm and at peace about the first round not working. The part I found most difficult was the warning sign that my period was coming – that is when I went through all the emotions. The bitter disappointment had already passed by the time I saw I was bleeding. My husband is ever the optimist and tells me every month that I don’t know what it feels like to be pregnant so not to worry when the cramps start. I think if he could experience being in my body, he would know the ominous feeling of a period coming and would warn me too that it’s not going to be good news.
And so our journey continues. I don’t know when, or if, we’ll have a baby. I do know however that life is full of struggles and throws curve balls at us sometimes. My step-mum once told me an old Yiddish proverb: “We plan, God laughs”. And if there was even one plan I was certain of in my life, it was to have a baby.
Last year my husband and I made the decision to move from our home in Nottingham (UK), to the sunny Mediterranean island of Malta. One of our first considerations when making the move was how to transport our gorgeous cocker-spaniel, Poppy. She is exceptionally soft, both fur wise and emotionally, so putting her on a plane would have likely traumatised her sensitive soul. With that in mind, we decided she would join us on our European road trip, travelling in the back of our Seat Leon in the comfort of her own bed.
After locking up our home in Nottingham for the final time we set off for ‘Le Shuttle’, the car train which would take us from Folkstone (UK), to Calais (France). Poppy looked rather confused as we drove onto the train, to be honest so was I—you drive into a train! But she soon settled after sharing a chicken sandwich with us. The train journey went smoothly, partially because we had paid for a flexi ticket, which meant we were greeted with a “free” lunch and could board straight away, well worth purchasing.
Le Shuttle – car train
On arrival in France our first stop was Lille. We all loved this city! The sweet, independent boutiques and cute cafes made it a joy to walk through. On our first evening we enjoyed delicious limonchello and white wine cocktails and attempted to share oysters with Poppy, but turns out she’s not a fan. She much preferred the next day when we went to Jardin Vauban, a pretty English- inspired park with lots of space to run around and stepping-stones to hop across the river.
Jardin Vauban, Lille, France
The next day we set off for Paris, stopping in the quaint rural towns of Compiegne and Rully. Due to the pandemic the roads and villages were deserted. The still atmosphere made us feel as though we were on a film set, privileged to have been invited behind the scenes.
Rully, France
Arriving in Paris was a totally different change of scene. The bustling city was nothing like the quietness of country villages. After dropping our stuff off at the hotel room, and letting Poppy check out the view from the window, it was time to go exploring.
Paris, France
We visited all the usual tourist attractions: Notre Dame, The Eiffel Tower, The Lourve. We couldn’t actually go into any of these places because of the fur baby but it was great to see the infamous landmarks with hardly any tourists about.
Eiffel Tower, Paris, France
Our evening in Paris was spent in Montmatre, a picturesque place where local artists gather on the cobbled streets. Poppy sat with us whilst we enjoyed our cliché evening meal of French onion soup and snails, finished off with a beautiful lavender crème brulee – to die for!
Montmatre, France
Our onward journey would take us through Fontainebleau and Avallon before arriving at the next country on our trip—Switzerland. We had been told that a 45-minute drive away from Geneva was the must-see town of Annecy in France, so we spent just one evening in the capital, indulging ourselves on decadent chocolate milkshakes at the Haagen-Dazs café before getting a fairly early night for another full day.
Avallon, France
Thank you to everyone who recommended Annecy! It was breath-taking. Lake Annecy was particularly spectacular with its crystal-clear waters and vast Alpine mountains interlocking in the distance. We hired a pedalo to enjoy the view whilst having a refreshing dip. Poppy joined in the swimming after some encouragement, although I think she was more worried about us drowning than she was about taking in the scenery.
After spending a couple of hours enjoying the lake, we agreed it was time for lunch and wandered into the town. We were spoiled for choice with restaurants and cafes to choose from! Most of them can be found alongside the canal. The word ‘canal’ in my mind conjures up images of shopping trolley infested brown water. But not in Annecy! Even the canal had beautiful turquoise waters, with those impressive mountains as the backdrop. If I were a duck, I would immigrate from Manchester to start a new life there.
Annecy, France
The end of a wonderful day in Annecy signalled the beginning of the next leg of our trip—onwards to Italy!
We stopped in Bonneville for a blueberry muffin breakfast before beginning the spectacular drive through the Alps. The scenery was so stunning, I felt like I was overdosing on beauty! Driving along the open roads towards the snow top mountains, watching paragliders fly in the air like eagles was unforgettable.
Bonneville, France
The scenery was cut off for about 15 minutes as we drove through the Mont Blanc tunnel into Italy. The first place we stopped in the fourth country on our trip was in a little town called Irvea, where we had a quick lunch. Sipping our coffee, I noticed an incredibly well-dressed man sat opposite us—is he gay or European? It was confirmed, we had arrived in southern Europe, the natural habitat of the metrosexuals.
Ivrea, Italy
With paninis in our bellies, we made our way to Genoa. So far on our trip we had stayed at hotels, however, tonight we were staying at a small farm situated at the top of a very windy, narrow road. On arrival we were greeted by the owner—an old, Italian lady who didn’t speak any English. Luckily, my husband speaks a bit of Italian and understood that a homemade meal would be ready for us that evening. After taking a quick nap, we spruced ourselves up a bit and walked to the front of the farmhouse where we found a table set up for two, facing a gorgeous night-time view of the harbour with twinkling lights of the city.
Genoa, Italy
In the morning, Poppy had a good sniff around the farm, and I visited the piggy wigs before we set off for Corniglia, one of the five colourful towns of Cinque Terre. After almost an hour of driving along the twisting roads, going up, up, up, we finally arrived. Our accommodation for the night was a surprisingly peaceful sanctuary set amongst the buzzing bars, restaurants and boutique shops.
Corniglia, Itaky
It was a short stay in Corniglia as less than 24 hours later we were on the road again, this time to Sienna. We stopped in Pisa for a classic photo of the Leaning Tower of Pisa, then spent the afternoon in Florence, admiring the impressive architecture and enjoying another yummy pasta dish.
Pisa, Italy
We had planned to venture into Sienna but our hotel was situated north of the city in a place so beautiful that we didn’t want to leave. Set in the Tuscanny countryside, Colle di Val d’Elsa is a medieval town with the most romantic and tranquil atmosphere, a perfect escape from hectic, modern life.
Colle di Val d’Elsa, Sienna, Italy
The next morning, we made our way to the nearby Fiume Elsa waterfalls. Poppy had a little swim whilst we enjoyed the shade from the leafy trees before beginning our three-hour drive to Rome.
Fiume Elsa waterfalls
We bought tickets for a pet friendly hop-on-hop-off bus tour of the capital city so Poppy didn’t have to get her paws hot walking all day. With the breeze blowing between our hair (and ears) we took in the scenery of Rome and stopped off at the ancient ruins and Colosseum. That evening we had dinner in the Piazza della Rotanda, soaking in the atmosphere of cheerful tourists enjoying their travels after months of quarantining.
On the hop-on-hop-off tour bus, Rome
The next stop on our trip was Sorrento where we stayed for one night. We wandered into town from our hotel, passing all the lemon themed boutiques: lemon soap, lemon perfume, lemon jewellery! Amongst all the lemons, Poppy found a cocker-spaniel ornament: “Mummy, I am so beautiful that they have made me into a statue”. Thinking we were all lemoned out we had an evening meal of pasta and wine, finished off with… you guessed it! A limonchello shot. What else, right!?
Sorrento, Italy
The next morning it was time to begin our journey to the stunning Almalfi Coast, where we would stay in a town called Ravello. On our way there we stopped in Positano for lunch; a sophisticated village, with fancy restaurants serving up quintessential Italian food. However, I did find a not-so-sophisticated piece of plastic in my spaghetti (who says there’s no such thing as a free lunch?).
Positano, Italy
Our accommodation in Ravello was a sweet family-run hotel, with breath-taking views of the mountains and nearby villages. The breakfast here was honestly the best breakfast I have ever had! Drinking freshly made coffee and fruit juices, and eating homemade pastries whilst enjoying that view was definitely my happy place.
Ravello, Italy
As we were the only guests staying at the hotel, the owner let us spend the day by the pool with Poppy. She somehow knew that the pool wasn’t a natural body of water so didn’t go for a dip. It was the perfect place to relax before setting off to Villa San Giovanni where we would catch the ferry to Sicily!
Ravello, Italy
We chose to stay in the beautiful hill top town of Taormina in Sicily. Poppy came with us for cocktails and snacks at a cool bar where the seating area is the cobbled steps of the street. It was the ideal place to watch the world go by as the sun set. Once we had finished all the nibbles, we went for a stroll past the shops selling handmade crafts, and bars filled with people chatting and laughing away.
Taormina, Sicily
The next day was a big one, it would be the day we would arrive in our new home—Malta! We took Poppy to the vets so her passport would be ready for the authorities to check upon arrival and then made our way to the ferry at Pozzallo. As soon as we stepped out of the car we could feel the air was different. The humid sea air reinforced that we were a long way from the UK! As we waited for the ferry we had a drink at one of the port’s bars and James noticed they were selling Cisk, Malta’s national beer. We’d almost made it!
Pozzallo, Sicily
The ferry journey from Sicily to Malta is over four hours long, so we paid for Poppy to go in an air-conditioned pet cabin as she wasn’t allowed upstairs with us. She has serious separation anxiety, crying even if one of us goes to the toilet, so we were worried about leaving her, but she seemed ok when we picked her up at the end of the journey.
Sicily ferry
When leaving the ferry, the Maltese authorities checked Poppy’s passport and flashed their torch in the back to see her. Upon seeing her bed with copious pillows to make sure she was comfortable, they called her a queen and said we were ok to go.
That was it. We had arrived. It was an epic drive through Europe and we made memories I’ll cherish forever. Since our arrival in Malta in September 2020 we have bought our own place in Mellieha, north of the island and we are all enjoying our new life on this sunny Mediterranean island!
There are two things you should know before you read this article. 1) I am double jabbed with the Covid-19 vaccine, and 2) I am a strong believer that vaccines save lives.
Malta’s decision to insist that all people exiting and entering the country must be vaccinated against Covid-19 was an outrageous infringement on freedom of movement. After the European Commission intervened stating that this restriction was discriminatory, the Maltese government thankfully did a U-turn. The decision was welcomed by some but not everyone. I personally found the lack of shock at such a drastic measure demonstrated a worrying acceptance for government control over our right to travel freely.
I am aware that there are compulsory vaccinations to enter some countries, for example the yellow fever vaccine is mandatory if you wish you travel to Ghana. However, there are two major reasons why I believe this argument cannot be used for mandatory Covid-19 vaccination.
Firstly, Yellow Fever kills approximately 15% of those who suffer from the disease. This is compared to Covid-19 death rate, which is estimated to be between 0.5 and 1%. It is true that coronavirus is a dreadful disease and we are right to take steps to prevent the spread. However, we should also not dismiss the fact that the death rate from this virus is relatively low. In March 2020, the Advisory Committee on Dangerous Pathogens (a committee made up of medical professors) decided to remove Covid-19 from the High Consequence Infectious Disease list as the mortality rates are low overall. Yet there are many people who seem to believe that if their elderly relative were to catch the virus then death would be inevitable; this is simply not the case. For a disease that is unlikely to kill 99% of those who catch the virus, I find it difficult to justify the decision to make the vaccine a prerequisite for citizens to enter and exit their own country freely.
For a lot of people, not taking the vaccine is what is unjustifiable: refusing the vaccine is a selfish act and shows an apathetic attitude towards society’s vulnerable. However, most of our elderly and vulnerable citizens have chosen to be vaccinated and are now significantly less likely to die from the infection. In the US it is now estimated that between 98% to 99% of people dying from Covid-19 are those who are unvaccinated. If the people who are most likely to die from the virus are protected by vaccination, why should young, healthy people be coerced into taking a vaccine which has yet to be subjected to long-term testing? You may argue that it is necessary so that the virus doesn’t develop new variants, however the World Health Organisation does not seem overly concerned about this issue, stating that: “In the event that any of these vaccines prove to be less effective against one or more variants, it will be possible to change the composition of the vaccines to protect against these variants”.
Those who take the usual mandatory vaccines to travel to countries with deadly diseases are able to make the decision based on access to long-term research from which they can make an informed decision. With vaccine manufacturers being immune to lawsuits if long-term issues were to arise, it is understandable that some young and fit people would rather not take a new-to-the-market vaccine for a virus that statistically will do them no harm and does not pose a serious threat to the vulnerable who have received the vaccine.
I personally decided to take the vaccine and I am certainly not in the anti-vax camp. However, I also believe that before there is enough long term research for people to make fully informed choices, I do not see how we can accept a vaccine mandate in a free society. If we do not express outrage towards government’s decision over something as salient as autonomy over our own bodies, then we open the flood gates to government interference in other aspects of our life in the name of safety, and history shows us that this is a very slippery slope.
I always used to think that the key to happiness was being relentlessly optimistic. Put a smile on your face and believe that your dreams will come true! But the problem is that life doesn’t always go to plan. When your dog has eaten an entire Easter egg and you’re on your way to the emergency vet, it’s quite difficult to start singing ‘The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow’, whilst worrying about the impending death of your furry friend and huge vet’s bill through the door. It is at times like these that pessimism, not optimism, comes to the rescue.
Stoicism teaches us that pessimism can actually be a good thing. It doesn’t have to be a depressed and negative outlook on the world. Positive pessimism is a great way to prepare ourselves for when things don’t go according to plan. It’s all about lowering our expectations. If we approach our day thinking that life is all rainbows and roses, then it’s very easy to get upset when things go wrong. However, if we acknowledge that shit happens, then when it does inevitably happen, it’s not such a slap in the face.
I remember in the same week that I discovered Stoicism I also stepped in dog poo and unwittingly walked it into our house and onto our brand new carpet. Instead of getting upset, I said to myself: “Did I really think I was going to go my whole life without stepping in dog poop?”. Knowing that it was bound to happen someday, I got to work cleaning the mess and carried on with my evening.
Life’s little frustrations can seem pretty trivial in the grand scheme of things but they can pile up and have a real impact on our emotional well-being if we’re not careful. Stoicism is a great coping strategy to stop sweating the small stuff. Those ancient philosophers always get me through a bad day! I’m sure they didn’t imagine that their wisdom would help a girl out when she’s accidentally smashed her iPhone 8, but this school of thought is still so relevant in today’s society. It has helped me to be become more emotionally stable, and consequently a happier person.
Stoicism is also a great philosophy for dealing with events that aren’t so trivial but that’s a whole other article!
If you’re interested in discovering Stoicism I would recommend reading The Consolations of Philosophy by Alain de Botton.
Christmas 2017, my husband receives an Amazon Echo, aka Alexa, as a gift from me. March 2019 and she’s in the bin.
At first “Silly Alexa” was the response when her blue lights came on to indicate she was listening, when we hadn’t asked her anything. Then she began to frequently burst out with phrases such as “hmm I don’t know that one”, or “Playing Zombie – The Cranberries from James’s Spotify”. Never heard of The Cranberries, Alexa! She’s going mad.
These random outbursts and blue lights reiterated that she was always listening, albeit listening like a nosey grandma who needed a new hearing aid. In the knowledge that she seemed alert to everything I was saying, I began to regulate my behaviour in my own home. If I had a private conversation on the phone, I’d leave the room. I even started to be conscious of doing a little toot!
But it was only when my husband turned her off at the wall to have a conversation about finances, that I said she has to go. This creepy device had invaded our private sanctuary for too long.
I don’t want to enter the territory of paranoid conspiracy theorists but here I go anyway. The philosopher, Foucault, discusses the concept of the Panopticon: “A circular prison with cells arranged around a central well, from which prisoners could at all times be observed.”
Here’s what it looks like:
The Panopticon is designed in such a way that inmates are on their best behaviour 24/7 as they can’t be certain they aren’t being watched. This means there is less of a need for overt authoritative power as they are disciplining themselves.
It’s likely that Amazon didn’t design Alexa with the same purpose as the Panopticon. But the fact that I became conscious of my actions when I was completely alone meant that she was functioning as a modern day surveillance apparatus, regardless of whether or not that is the intent.
Alexa made me uneasy. So uneasy that I’ll make do with manually turning the lights on, thank you very much.
When my bridesmaids first asked me what I wanted to do for my hen do, all I knew was that I didn’t want penis straws or inflatable willies.
After we discussed a few ideas: a spa weekend in the Lake District, wine tasting in London, a trip to Centre Parcs – we ironically settled on the one place we were guaranteed to encounter willy accessories – no other than the classic hen do destination of Magaluf, Spain.
We booked ourselves into a rather sophisticated hotel (ME Mallorca), located next to the famous Nikki Beach, where we were greeted by beautiful receptionists dressed in white, offering us a glass of bubbly on arrival – always a good way to start the holiday!
Our first full day began on Saturday where we all met for breakfast and what a breakfast is was. I began by helping myself to churros in melted chocolate, coupled with a selection of fruit and yogurt presented in a fancy glass jar. But I was a Brit abroad so of course I also had a full English breakfast (needed the calories for all the sunbathing ahead).
The food was amazing but it was the company that will make me cherish the memory forever. My bridesmaids are my best friends from school, my sister and my fiancé’s sister. The conversation between the seven of us was so effortless. I had difficulty swallowing my three cups of coffee with all the laughing I was doing!
Afterwards, we spent the day sunbathing and cooling off in the blue sea where we chatted about our plans for next year’s girly holiday (we’re thinking Ibiza).
Later on in the evening we freshened ourselves up and went to a lovely little Italian restaurant for our evening meal. We were treated to two shots of Limoncello each by a waiter who was probably a Labrador in his past life. But before one of the bridesmaids, Kelsie, could have her after dinner shot, she had to leave due to “tummy troubles”.
Little did I know that she had actually gone back to the hotel to transform our room into the perfect party venue: there were balloons filled with glitter, photo props, rose gold confetti, bottles of champagne, sashes and team bride golden tattoos – such a sparkly surprise! (Thank you Ginger Ray for your decorations that don’t feature any penises).
After squealing with delight and feeling grateful that Kelsie wasn’t actually ill, I quickly changed into a dress, put my bride-to-be sash on and poured myself a drink. A few minutes later there was a knock at the door and a handy man entered the room. Omg, they’ve organised a stripper, I thought! But instead of asking: “Which one is the bride?”, he asked where the thermostat was situated and promptly left after fixing it, without taking his pants off. What a relief! Once he left we all got back on the bubbly and glamorous Kelsie hosted a couple of party games before we headed out to the strip where we danced our tushies off.
I was hoping to have fun on my hen do but it was better than I could ever have imagined. My bridesmaids make me feel so lucky to have such beautiful people in my life and I couldn’t imagine getting married without having them by my side. Bring on the wedding!
Last year I finally bit the bullet and had my first ever wax.
Reasons I had previously chosen shaving/hair removal cream over waxing:
Didn’t want a stranger to see my special lady area
Didn’t think I could handle the pain
Thought the whole thing would be terribly embarrassing
I booked myself in for a bikini line wax rather than a Brazilian because I thought this was a good option for a beginner. Upon arriving at the salon my beautician invited me straight up to the therapy room where she explained that she prefers it if I remove my panties but I could wear the paper thong if I didn’t want to bare all. I figured she must see intimate parts everyday so I decided to leave the paper pants on the side. Laying on the bed naked from the waist down, feeling rather awkward, I waited for her to enter the room again.
When she returned I told her I hadn’t been waxed before and she said: “We’ll see how we get on. We won’t remove too much today if you’re new to this”. Her demeanour made me feel so comfortable that I almost forgot I was knickerless.
She began to apply the first bit of wax to my skin and I prepared myself for some serious pain. Gritting my teeth and sweating like a polar bear in a sun bed, I felt her rip off the first bit of wax.
***News flash!!!***
It wasn’t painful! At least not painful enough to make any song and dance about. I had imagined it would be something like that scene in 40 Year Old Virgin so my mental preparation had been rather excessive.
I got chatting with my beautician about Love Island and she was telling me who she thought was the fittest guy in the villa when she stopped and said: “Well, there’s no going back now, I think you’re having it all off!”. We had been so busy nattering away that I hadn’t noticed that she had almost removed everything.
She asked if I wanted to go for a Hollywood and I said “Why not!?”. Before I knew it she was asking me to turn over and open my buttocks up so she could apply hot wax where the sun don’t shine.
Afterwards I felt as smooth as Galaxy chocolate and knew that I would never go back to shaving.
In conclusion:
Another lady seeing your lady area really isn’t a big deal
The pain is minimal
It’s only embarrassing if you or your beautician make it awkward
If you’re reluctant to try intimate waxing for any of those reasons then I’d say give it a go!
domesticphilosopher 