Fuck me, there’s a lot of birthdays in September. It’s been mine, my mum’s and dad’s and it’s about to be a whole host of other family members special days, too. Oh, and Beyoncé. That’s what happens when you can’t keep your dick in your pants around Christmas time.
Anyway, the most important birthday of all is ours, here at Woman on Top. We have just turned five. FIVE! Half a bloody decade of over-sharing the sordid details of the inner workings of my life with you all. And God, what a few years it has been. Imagining myself, having just turned 20, living and dating in London seems like something that happened in a different lifetime. But I can remember starting the blog and falling in love with doing it almost instantly, like it was yesterday. I was so lickle and naïve, although knew the best thing for myself was a bae-cation (avoiding any and all men for six weeks), and so our story began.
There have been ups and down, lots of tears and lots of laughter, daily updates and monthly sabbaticals and now, having just turned five years old, we are about to welcome our third website, as well as lots more excitement and the inevitable collection of similar tales: my book.
Thank you for reading my stories, for supporting me and for believing me. I love you.
This past weekend has been crazy. I’m so tired, I keep almost falling asleep when I roll my eyes. Which, if you know me, you’ll know is a lot. We took our gorgeous Raven bride-to-be down to Brighton, where we drank stupidly sugary drinks, flirted outrageously with butlers in the buff and did so much singing/dancing/smoking/laughing that my whole body is still suffering. But I wouldn’t change it. It was the most fun, and has left us all counting down the days until her wedding (39 from today). On Saturday, I ventured back into London for drinks, dinner and a show. We saw Hamilton. It was unbelievably good, I cried so many times (often just from being so overwhelmed at the sheer, unnerving level of talent) and I sat directly in front of Lin Manuel Miranda (writer and star of Hamilton) and so, when I wasn’t blubbing or clapping along hysterically to one of the umpteen incredible musical numbers, I was staring at him like a real fuckin’ creep. Anyway, then I went on to dine in my favourite restaurant and drank red wine and ate haggis until I physically could no longer move and my boyfriend had to essentially carry me all the way home.
Weekends like these, although ruining me for considerable days afterwards, remind me how lucky I am to be alive and living the life that I do. It fills me with joy to know I have the best ever friends and the most wonderfully supportive family who are all on board to help me be the best version of myself and achieve the greatest I possibly can. Five years ago, I was in a job I hated, living far away from my girlfriends and struggling with my self-esteem and the ability to hold on to a man longer than the 25 minutes it took for him to finish. And where am I now? Happy, above all else. Successful in my own ways. Looking forward to the future.
So again, thanks. To my glorious friends, families and readers. The past five years would have been mother-loving crazy and soooo different without y’all.