Last week was my work's Christmas party and as usual I was pressed into service as our unofficial photographer. I put the photos on my department's shared drive but my friend Goth Girl asked me to post a couple of photos of her onto her FB page so that her friend overseas could see. Goth Girl has disabled her "Wall" so I had to post the photos onto my own page and tag Goth Girl - which of course meant that my friends could see the photos too. One of them also had me in it and it gave rise to a few comments (thank you, Rach!). It also prompted another "friend" to send me a private message, congratulating me on still looking so young for my age, and expressing her admiration of my "expensive" dress and shoes and my opportunity to drink vodka martinis in the middle of the week. She ended her message with "I guess that you can do that when you are single and don't have to get kids up in the morning, eh?! Lol! :-)"
I know that message came from her being stressed and perhaps yes, a little envious that I was drinking martinis in a little black dress (incidentally $22 from F0rever 21 in Atlanta) and satin sling-backs with diamante clasps (admittedly not $22) on a Wednesday night. However, I am suddenly in no mood to forgive this, or even give her any leeway. She knew I lost Starchild and Tilly, although she didn't know about the IVF and subsequent loss of the Little Stars. She knew how much I wanted children and she knew how my life almost crumbled into dust after A left.
I know how lucky I am; I don't get paid a whole lot (I work for the NHS after all), but I do okay. I can keep a roof over my head, pay my bills, go on holiday, buy a new pair of slightly expensive boots every winter because I want them even if I don't need them, and dammit I can afford vodka martinis in a central London bar. I can also stay out until 2am and not have to account to anyone and I can spend the weekends in bed with a book and my cat if I want to. Sometimes there's nothing in the flat to eat except a tub of ice cream and a jar of olives, and I have glass ornaments which won't get broken on my Christmas tree.
But the little red and white backpacks stuffed with toys under my tree are for my niece and nephews. The glass ornaments are four glass hearts, one for each of my children. And there is no-one to phone and tell not to worry that I will be home at 2am.
My life doesn't suck, in fact I'm pretty happy right now. Nonetheless, as Ms Bradshaw once said "It's really hard to walk in a single woman's shoes. That's why you sometimes need really special shoes"