The Business Of Mummy Shaming Or – I Forgot The Bloody Library Books

The Business Of Mummy Shaming Or – I Forgot The Bloody Library Books

You know how all the marketing people tell you that Facebook lives will change your life?  I believed them, but I just never really had anything to 'live' about. Until a day, last year, when I forgot my Kindergartener's library books. And when I got home I was so ashamed, so guilt-ridden, and so embarrassed that I'd been mummy shamed in front of other adults I suddenly found I had quite a bit to say.

Only, it wasn't about copywriting.

In many ways, that Facebook live (which has since been deleted, more below) was the first step to separating the Crisp Crow and Crisp Copy brands. I'd developed a brand voice I was proud of for Crisp Copy, and then, sneaking out like an excited kid at 5am on Christmas morning, came my personal voice. The one I'd been stifling. And she was ready to SAY SOME THINGS.

The following is a transcript of my very first Facebook live. One that was available for an entire 12 hours until I got a message from a Mum at school and died all over again and took it down. I never professed to not being a chicken.

 

Top o’ the morning to all you good Crisp Copy People…

Firstly, this is NCR

...which is Jay slang for not copy related, so if you are only here for the copywriting tips you now have permission to back up in your browser. But! This is about being a Mum in business, so if that interests you and you want to hear a story that makes your morning look like Breakfast At Tiffany’s, stick about.

Disclaimer: I turn 40 tomorrow so there’s a very slight possibility I have been triggered by this morning's events and because I'm about to be officially middle-aged, am taking the whole thing too seriously. 

I want to have a chat with you today about mummy shaming

This just happened at Kindy drop off at my little boy’s school.

If you’ve ever tried to book a one on one with me through Crisp Copy you’ll have noticed my business day doesn’t officially start until 9.30am. That’s because I take my youngest child to school, watch him do his letters, read a book or do a puzzle with him, then squeeze him super tight as the bell goes.

I am terrifically aware of how fortunate I am to be able to structure my business around this important part of my day. I am also humbled and honoured that this is because of small business women (and some men) like you - you who have used my services enough over the past three years to make this flexibility a reality for me and my boy. Thank you for that; it really sucked being an employee.

Back to the story. I complete most Kindy drop-offs, except for yesterday. Mr Crow took a day off to attend a funeral and so was available to take our critter to school.

But, he forgot the library books.

No biggie, am I right? I didn’t haul him over the coals; the reading had been done and I’d signed the ledger to prove it.

Plus, our family is big on reading. We are. I am. We do the reading.

This morning, I’m back at Kindy with the school bag, the hockey bag with freshly washed (but not ironed – even I’m not that good) uniform and all the paraphernalia, plus the vouchers I’ve collected from a local business for the kindy raffle and…

THE LIBRARY BOOKS!

Yes, I have them. I've remembered them, even though I'm already half writing in my head the new tagline for this morning's client and the old dog lifted his leg to the shopping bag I put down momentarily on the front porch before we left. And I'm not even smug about the fact that I was the one who remembered them when Mr Crow was supposed to return them yesterday. I'm just glad I have them in my hot little hand because, well, I've been in a bit of trouble about the library books before.

We're "that family".

So, little Crisp Crow and I pop everything in the requisite spot - lunchbox, piece of fruit, water bottle, bag, and library books, and wait for the door to open.

And the Kindy teacher – she’s tremendously organised and fantastically wonderful at Kindy stuff, pretty much the best Kindy teacher you could ever want in front of your child – she opens the door and greets the children as cheerfully in November as she did at the beginning of the year. Bless her and her perennial smile.

Then, she turns to one of the Dads and says, “Did you remember the overdue library books?” and his little girl has them in her hand. “Ohhhh, good work,” she says laughing, “you’d get in trouble…” (I assume that means if he forgot them, and I’m assuming she means from his wife).

Then she says this to the Dad:

“That's OK, you probably have a lot on your plate, you’re excused.”

Cool, it’s good to get a leave pass for bringing back library books a day late. And you know, he runs a business, is a hands-on parent and has a younger child too, so really, good on him. I mean, he even has product in his hair. I’ve brushed mine, so we’re both rocking the day already.

Then she turns to me and her smile drops as she asks, “Did you remember the library books today?”

And just like that, I find myself standing up straighter and in my clearest voice let her know I’ve popped them in the pigeonhole. (Which is the exact right spot, by the way.)

“Oh, you need to bring them...”
“Shall I bring them inside?” I stumble over myself trying to please. For god’s sake, have some spine, Jay.
“Yes, they need to be in here.”

And she turns and walks away

Surprising myself with my chutzpah,  I mumble, “Well, it seems I’m definitely not excused. EVEN THOUGH I have three kids, run a businesses and still remembered the library books.”

Yeah. Brave.

She doesn’t hear my mutterings but some of the mothers around me start to titter nervously.

Because what the ever loving heck is the difference?

OK, let’s be sensible for a moment. There’s the distinct possibility that the Kindy teacher knows something about this Dad that I don’t: sick parents? Child unwell? Maybe his wife nicked off to Borneo with the pool man? There simply may be things I don’t know about this situation that she does.

So, by the same logic, there are things the Kindy teacher doesn’t know about me.

For example; I manage (sometimes fight) a 25-year longstanding illness on a daily basis just to get out of bed.

But none of that should matter. Because what matters is that my kid is here, he’s clean, he’s fed, he’s so so happy and can read at age 5. He also knows how to count the syllables in ornathacaurus; some kids don’t even know what the heck an ornathacarus is. And because we are not about comparisons I’ll just leave that one there.

You know what? We both have a Kindy kid, we both have other children, we both own and run our own businesses, and we both obviously want the best for our child which is why we read books to our kids (even though we occasionally forget them at home).

I could be wrong. Yes, there could be two very different reasons we forgot our kids library books this week. Yes, there could be every reason in the world she treated us so differently this morning.

But…I have a sneaking suspicion there’s not.

I think the only difference is that he is a Dad.

And I am a Mum.

Jay-crisp-crow-crisp-copy-signature

Jay Crisp Crow

Yep, really my name

If you’re here for the intuitive mix of done-for-you, make-you-cry copy or you want to learn all my secrets so you can DIY like a pro; sister, you’re in the right place. I'm a copywriter, editor, and copy consultant and coach for businesswomen ready to move away from the boring as bat poop churning out of content. Words that sound the same as everyone else's. Bah humbug! I am terrible at writing my own blogs but smashing at writing for clients. I live in the Hills of Perth, WA, and work with women around the world through the technologically spiffy powers of t'internet. Yay for that!

Are You A Dodgy Wife? I Thought I Was Too

Are You A Dodgy Wife? I Thought I Was Too

In my spare time (ha!) I stalk the Duggars and read blogs of polygamist Mormon women.

I know.

(If you’ve never binge-watched Big Love while considering which of your girlfriends you could bear to live with, you’re missing out!)

OK, it’s partly because they DOWNRIGHT FASCINATING, but I also think I’m hunting for something.

Something between the dogma and the religious righteousness. Something wholesome. A secret. Something about being a good wife.

A good wife.

I don’t think I’ve ever been one of those

I’m a second time ’round wife, who lost her first husband because she wasn’t quite enough (or too much, or not right, or something…)

I don’t bake. I can’t even drive a manual.

I am sick more than I am well.

I clean the house in fits of fury and indignation in an irregular fashion.

Our last wedding anniversary I even forgot to buy a card. (I hate cards given on actual events. I have some reaction I don’t have on any random dates, just like with flowers.)

Above all, I think I’m just Really High Maintenance. 

I want spontaneity in my love life and stability for my children, total devotion without being suffocated, swinging from the chandelier afternoons or macaroons, but you have to guess which one with no indication and if you get it wrong I’ll be sulky and stroppy, but you can’t ever be cranky.

I’m the antithesis of the perfect wife.

 

I’m one dodgy wife.

So, why do I fill my spare moments up with this waterfall TV family viewing of everything I’m not?

As someone who was formerly married to a man from a strict religious background, I have absolutely no desire to ever be married to religion again. I believe, in what I believe in. I have a church, and a Father who wears Converse. My relationship with the Almighty is tight. So, it’s not that.

And, unlike after a session with Country Style mag on the daybed, it’s not like I bounce up from a binge stalk and get all homemaker. I don’t suddenly cook my husband a roast in a similar vein to when I decide the house needs to be full of peonies (my favourite, by the way) after a CS wallowing.

I think I need to look at this stuff because I actually don’t know what marriage looks like at 8, 12, 17 years. My husband and I found each other pretty late in the game.

We won’t ever get a 50 year anniversary, because we wasted all that time before the night we met, sighed with relief, laughed until we nearly cried, and traded hearts. What’s more, my first marriage only lasted three years. When my (now) husband and I got to our fifth year, I panicked.

My Mum and Dad were only married for 7 and I’m pretty sure I heard the phrase “a woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle” every day from the time my Mum stopped crying until, well, yesterday.

I have NO IDEA WHAT I’M DOING HERE, PEOPLE!

But my husband does. He’s done a 12-year stint before.

He thinks I’m lovely.

He says being married to me is constantly interesting.

He once told me the most exciting thing about being my husband is that I wake up every day and don’t need him. Which means I choose him. Which he finds comfort in.

Let’s thank goodness for that because there’s not much comfort in my culinary skills, my homemaker capabilities, or even my capacity to be selfless in my marriage.

When we got to six years married, and I didn’t know what to expect next, my husband arranged for us to be married again. I got an invitation to my own re-wedding. I rocked up in my cowgirl boots. Our Converse-wearing Father smiled his way through another ceremony. Our baby slept through it on his sister’s shoulder

My Mother rolled her eyes.

I may not know what I’m doing, but I’m sure doing it with the right man.

Maybe I’m not one dodgy wife.

Maybe I just wasn’t married to the right husband.

Jay-crisp-crow-crisp-copy-signature

Jay Crisp Crow

Yep, really my name

If you’re here for the intuitive mix of done-for-you, make-you-cry copy or you want to learn all my secrets so you can DIY like a pro; sister, you’re in the right place. I’m a copywriter, editor, and copy consultant and coach for businesswomen ready to move away from the boring as bat poop churning out of content. Words that sound the same as everyone else’s. Bah humbug! I am terrible at writing my own blogs but smashing at writing for clients. I live in the Hills of Perth, WA, and work with women around the world through the technologically spiffy powers of t’internet. Yay for that!

Disconnect to Reconnect

Disconnect to Reconnect

It’s 47 degrees in the shade and I’ve been awake since 5am fishing with my unexpectedly angling obsessed daughter. I’ve also taken my three-year-old swimming twice, all the while allaying his fears that Santa won’t find us in the ‘holiday caravan’, and had an in-depth discussion with my teenager about the responsibility of assimilation in Australian culture.

We’ve now been driving for 2 ½ hours in flat, scrubby country with the ocean teasing out from behind the dunes and the big, blue sky almost too huge to believe. According to my phone, this expansive view comes with exactly no reception.

In fact, I’ve been disconnected for around 80% of this trip so far.

Had I not experienced the restorative effects (both personally and for my business) of being disconnected from the internet in the past, I would probably be panicking right about now.

As it happens, this time I have a spot of connectivity back at the caravan and don’t worry, I am making extraordinarily good use of it.

But apart from a quick evening session to check in and upload content, I am *gasp* disconnected.

It can be worrying to be unplugged from your business for any stretch of time, especially if your marketing relies on being online. However, here are some tried and true tips for putting this time to good use while maintaining your online presence.

Plan and Automate

Being disconnected from the online part of your business doesn’t have to mean you aren’t visible online. Although business may close up shop or slow down over the summer period, social media gets a boost with people spending more of their downtime online.

If you can manage to spend a couple of hours in the lead up to your time out automating your social media, your online worlds will keep ticking over even when you’re hollering at the kids not to lean quite so far over the cliff face to photograph a shark. Blog posts on your website, Facebook daily posts, paid advertising, and other online hotspots can either be totally or partially automated. You’ll be able to keep up your conversation with your clients and customers online without picking up your phone.

Get Old School

If writing of any description is part of the way you market online, just check how much more productive you will be without working on your laptop.

Yes, paper and pen.

Get your next quarter plan scribbled out. Write your next six months of blog posts. Map out some social media interaction for the upcoming season.

Without the distraction of all the flickering fluff happening on your computer, you’ll whizz through tasks faster than you could have imagined.

Breathe It In

Everyone needs a chance to breathe out the hard work of the preceding year and to breathe in the good stuff. Small business people are particularly renowned for eating, sleeping and breathing their business. But our families need us to connect with them too.

From a self-confessed social media addict, disconnecting from your online self, even if only for a couple of days, will seriously enable the reconnection to the reason many of us do what we do – our family.

For me, this is undoubtedly the most rewarding aspect of the unplugging, even if my two big kids tend to take the complete mick out of every landmark visit by verbally beginning a blog article in a falsetto voice, complete with “This is Jay Crisp Crow for Crisp Crow Communications” and elbowing each other in mirth.

The other experience to look forward to is the actual excitement about putting into plan everything you’ve thought of for your business when you get back to it. All those tinglingly good ideas that have had a chance to marinate in a mind not completely overwhelmed with daily business tasks, that’s a nice anticipation.

For now, wish you were here.

(P.S. Santa does find you in your holiday caravan. Phew!)

This blog originally appeared in the Swan Magazine and has been reproduced with their kind permission.

Jay-crisp-crow-crisp-copy-signature

Jay Crisp Crow

Yep, really my name

If you’re here for the intuitive mix of done-for-you, make-you-cry copy or you want to learn all my secrets so you can DIY like a pro; sister, you’re in the right place. I’m a copywriter, editor, and copy consultant and coach for businesswomen ready to move away from the boring as bat poop churning out of content. Words that sound the same as everyone else’s. Bah humbug! I am terrible at writing my own blogs but smashing at writing for clients. I live in the Hills of Perth, WA, and work with women around the world through the technologically spiffy powers of t’internet. Yay for that!

Who Did You Plan On Being?

Who Did You Plan On Being?

I am a content writer, editor, social media savvy communicator, super mother and Hills enthusiast, but, when I was small, I wanted to be a lawyer, a musical theatre star and an internationally based roller skating waitress.

Preferably all at once.

As young people, we are inherent innovators. We morph from dream to desire to reality and back again. We find it easier to get unstuck, and out of our own way. We fully embrace our own capacity to find we are on the wrong avenue, hit a dead-end, and turn around and change our path.

As adults, this innovative ability seems to dissipate into the ether along with our plans to conquer the world, travel the seas or world domination in netball.

Until recently, I was a classic case of ‘stuck’.

For over a decade, I’d worked in a job I have always loved, but could never really grow in. I’d lost sight of who I’d wanted to be and what star I’d planned on following, especially when my life plan took a side street with the arrival of three of the most divine children to ever grace the earth. Children were never part of my plans, at seven or seventeen, when I had my sights set on Musical Theatre stardom (and Hugh Jackman, let’s be honest), but the costume of Motherhood, that old cardigan I’d never been keen on, happened to be the very best fit. Becoming a parent settled and made me content in a way I never dreamed possible.

It also scared me into submission. Relying on me are glorious young people and all that comes with them; private school fees, orthodontic appointments, school camps, new bikes, dance class, endless sporting commitments, limitless discussion about skateboard parts. You all know the drill. All my old dreams were stored in a dirty bucket somewhere under the sink. Does this all sound familiar? 

The trajectory of my journey from office worker to small business owner can be summarised quite quickly: a friend is struggling with the demands of her online business presence, I take what I’ve been doing as an employee for years and help. She smacks me around a bit with the understanding that I may just be sitting on something akin to talent, and I reach out to see if anyone else is interested. A business is born.

It seemed to happen all in the span that it took you to read that sentence too, and the impact of the speed of these changes after twelve years of doing the same thing every day may have left me with a little whiplash.

Just like that, our lives change. I don’t know everything, but I know small business, how to market it and I know how to write. Thanks to a three year old that didn’t sleep for two years, I am also incredibly adept at social media. I know how to make small business look good, and for an incredibly realistic budget. I morph my days into a blend of all the things I love and am decent at – creativity, writing, helping other people, problem solving, and family. I am exhausted, but content. My children are inspired: one edits my client videos and has the beginnings of his own brand, the other starts her own blog. They begin to use words like ‘entrepreneurial’, ‘monetise’ and ‘philanthropic’ in conversation. My husband is fairly exploding with pride.

I’m not suggesting running a small business is simple, or even entirely manageable, some days. I am a mean boss, I give no sick days, there’s no ‘clock out’ time and I am 100% going to hand my laptop over to a toddler who asks to see “sharks biting that camera” at any time of the day. But, at the upcoming one year anniversary of my own small business, I can honestly say it’s been a thousand percent worth it.

This evolution took me twelve years.

Honestly, why didn’t I do it sooner?

If you are a closet creative, I urge you; get a move on. Make a plan, sketch a bridge between where you are a where you want to be, learn everything you can, connect with the right people, start taking some steps already.

And, like all good creatives, be prepared to innovate. You must evolve in this market to stay current. For although you may begin this journey planning to be a childless roller skating waitress, just imagine what you would have missed out on if you’d never considered a life full of family delight and writing.

At nearly 40, plump, messy, and parenting by the seat of my pants, building a business my family and I can be proud of might just be even better.

This piece originally appeared in the Swan Magazine in my regular column. It has been reprinted here with the kind permission of the Editor.

Jay-crisp-crow-crisp-copy-signature

Jay Crisp Crow

Yep, really my name

If you’re here for the intuitive mix of done-for-you, make-you-cry copy or you want to learn all my secrets so you can DIY like a pro; sister, you’re in the right place. I’m a copywriter, editor, and copy consultant and coach for businesswomen ready to move away from the boring as bat poop churning out of content. Words that sound the same as everyone else’s. Bah humbug! I am terrible at writing my own blogs but smashing at writing for clients. I live in the Hills of Perth, WA, and work with women around the world through the technologically spiffy powers of t’internet. Yay for that!

Girl Boss – What Small Business Ownership Teaches My Daughter

Girl Boss – What Small Business Ownership Teaches My Daughter

When my 12-year-old daughter informed me of her life plan, all the ugly parts of my parenting came to the surface. Her (current) ideal includes buying a farm, rescuing donkeys, baking scones every day and bearing a whole tribe of babies whom she plans to homeschool.

Husband optional.

Here’s how my inner ugly inner parent sounded:

“Shouldn’t she want a career?

What are we paying private school fees for?

Rescuing donkeys won’t pay the bills.

She’s going to homeschool the intended FIVE children?

All that talent wasted – the development netball, her ability with words, her love of history, her keen mind and capacity to understand the depths of a concept beyond her years.

How’s she going to buy that farm?”

My Mama Muzzle had to get whipped out quick, because, well, this is all my fault.

Haven’t I created a family philosophy and environment in my home to support her choices?

Hasn’t she been fortunate enough to have been born into a country that allows her the privilege to sculpt her life?

And then, in addition, haven’t I done everything I can to empower her to trust herself and completely reinvent her world

if she changes her mind?

This is what I’ve taught her.

I owe so much of my resilience, compassion and understanding about life to the lessons my own mother taught. She was my only parent, so there was a good while where her opinion was my only opinion, which suited her fine.

In the ever-evolving path we follow, there comes a junction where we step beyond our mother’s success and knowledge into a new trail, blazed by our own curiosity. This is how we grow a humanity.

It’s life’s lust for expansion, even though it sometimes upsets our own mothers. If you’re lucky, like I am lucky, your mum will pack her growth suitcase and come along with you.

So, what am I now showing my daughter, besides what she’s already gleaned this far from watching me as a young’un?

She already knows that she can be financially resourceful and reliant on herself in a crisis; because I’ve shown her that.

She knows that divorce and heartbreak aren’t the end of the story. She knows that being unceremoniously dumped on your bum doesn’t mean the end of your joy. I’ve proven that.

She also understands that staying married to someone who adores you is often seriously hard work, even if your values are aligned. She sees that marriage is tough, frustrating, joyful and messy and terribly, fantastically worth it. She knows because I’ve shown her that.

She knows that sometimes you just have to say “yes” to terrifyingly out-of-your-comfort-zone opportunities, then scurry around like a rabid fruit bat to get the job done. I’ve taught her that.

She knows that illness, inability and despair cannot rule. She comprehends that we all have coping mechanisms that can spring like weeds from barren ground and create a foundation for success. I’ve shown her that.

She knows that in order to be of assistance in a community and help those around you, you’ve got to save yourself first.  I’ve taught her that.

She knows that children change everything. That they are both a responsibility and a freedom and that the love of a new baby after a decade, only increases the love in the home, not divides it. I’ve shown her that too.

The birth of our new family business has shown her fresh lessons.

While we are growing something sustainable and clever at our kitchen table, there are seeds of confidence being watered in her soul. Because, if at any time she feels as if the life she’s structured isn’t as blazing and brilliant as she wants, she’ll have seen her Mum completely morph a situation with sheer determination. She will have watched me emancipate myself from an unbalanced career to unfolding into a creative businesswoman.

She will watch me take something I love, invest in my own talent and turn it into an award-winning, sustainable business within a year.

She will have witnessed me second guess myself, then strike a power pose and fire on.

She was there the moment I realised my own value, charged accordingly and changed our lives.

Which might just be what she needs when running the donkey sanctuary.

This post is now published on the Huffington Post site.

Jay-crisp-crow-crisp-copy-signature

Jay Crisp Crow

Yep, really my name

If you’re here for the intuitive mix of done-for-you, make-you-cry copy or you want to learn all my secrets so you can DIY like a pro; sister, you’re in the right place. I’m a copywriter, editor, and copy consultant and coach for businesswomen ready to move away from the boring as bat poop churning out of content. Words that sound the same as everyone else’s. Bah humbug! I am terrible at writing my own blogs but smashing at writing for clients. I live in the Hills of Perth, WA, and work with women around the world through the technologically spiffy powers of t’internet. Yay for that!

A Blog About A Bikini, and, well, Love

A Blog About A Bikini, and, well, Love

Before I began Crisp Crow Communications, I wrote an anonymous blog for a year. I didn’t tell anyone I was publishing, I just wanted to gauge if people would even read what I wrote, and if they’d like it.

This blog piece had an outstanding response. I guess it resonated with some people.

Rocking What You’ve Got – A Blog About a Bikini, and, well, Love.

Those of you who are mates with me IRL (ahh.. that’s In Real Life for readers without teenagers) may have read my social media posts or heard me tequila-ey slur (in one particular instance) about my campaign to be kinder to myself this year.

I’ve been on a hate campaign diet since I began professionally dancing at 11 years old.

We moved from Sydney to Perth and I began dancing at a studio that held the contract for the State Basketball Team cheer squad. I wanted in. God, I wanted in so badly I could taste it.

Which is fortunate, because for the entirety of my pro cheerleader career, that’s about all I tasted.

During my first cheer class, the teacher took my mother aside and told her I was simply too fat. So fat. I was a size 12. And so it began.

My daughter turned 12 last year and all of a sudden I am noticing something about the vocabulary I use when speaking about my body.

It’s pretty awful.

In fact, if it was a friend talking like that about me, I would ditch them.

My husband says “God, you’re gorgeous in that dress. Look at that booty”, I say “Don’t be ridiculous, I’m SO FAT.”

My son says “Come swimming with me Mama. Come RIGHT NOW!” (because he’s three and everything has to happen immediately) and I say “OK then… God I hate these bathers. Why am I SO FAT?”

My daughter asks “Do you want to come for a walk with me and the dog?” and I say “Gosh, yes, I really should, because I am SO FAT.”

The theme of this self-talk has been mind numbingly similar since I was 12:

Don’t eat that sandwich. You’re SO FAT.

You’d better get to the gym today. You’re SO FAT.

Wear something more sensible. You’re SO FAT.

Ridiculously, I was a size 10 from the time I was 12 until I was 16.

Now, at 38, I really am fat.

And I’m bored of hating myself about it.

Because I’m also freaking glorious! And clever, and an award winning copywriter, and a mother to amazing humans, and a successful wife, who makes her swooning husband insanely happy, and a good friend, and I can tap dance like a demon and I bleeding love lemon meringue pie, for goodness sake.

I don’t know where the battle with my weight will finish or who the victor might be.  And it’s not as if I’m giving up killing off a good 20 kilos, it’s just that I’m boring when I’m hating on myself all the time.

I mean, look at this fantastical creation!

It’s doing ok for all the damage I’ve wreaked upon it, mainly in the name of weight loss. The now-illegal diet pills, the eating of paper and obsessively working out, the lap band and consequent starvation. Doing 6 hours of dance a day and then it not being enough, running home the last five kilometres. Trying every weight loss over the counter medication under the sun (does anyone remember that fat liquidising one? I have nightmares.)

It’s all taken its toll. But here travels my body, luscious and soft in the dark, still holding up its end of the bargain.

So, now I’m trying a new tactic:

Love.

In this vein, and with rounds of applause from my children and inappropriate behaviour from aforementioned husband I let my darling beloved buy me a bikini yesterday during our weekend away.

I’ve worn it in public. Twice.

Once at the hotel swimming pool – which didn’t really count as it was 6.30 in the evening and we were only sharing the facilities with a naked toddler and someone’s Gran.

Then today also at one of Perth’s busiest swimming spots during our first really warm weekends of the season.

(For anyone who has ever been not confident about getting their kit off and walking that long, long walk between towel and water, you’ll know what a big deal it was to strip off my dress and walk calmly into the sea.)

Guess what happened?

Absolutely nothing.

The world did not cease to turn. No Japanese fishing boats tried to harpoon me. No one even darn well blinked. And my husband smiled the whole time.

It was a really lovely swim… And something I maybe would have missed out on back (last month) when I wasn’t actively pursuing a love affair with myself.

So fat. So what?

This blog also appears on Huffington Post. You can read and leave comments on any of my HuffPost articles here.

Jay-crisp-crow-crisp-copy-signature

Jay Crisp Crow

Yep, really my name

If you’re here for the intuitive mix of done-for-you, make-you-cry copy or you want to learn all my secrets so you can DIY like a pro; sister, you’re in the right place. I’m a copywriter, editor, and copy consultant and coach for businesswomen ready to move away from the boring as bat poop churning out of content. Words that sound the same as everyone else’s. Bah humbug! I am terrible at writing my own blogs but smashing at writing for clients. I live in the Hills of Perth, WA, and work with women around the world through the technologically spiffy powers of t’internet. Yay for that!