I am my mother’s daughter. She built her life up from scratch, on several different occasions, only to have it completely obliterated by our common enemy—men. Yet, like most people have a weakness for shoes, coffee, or chocolate, we have a weakness for men. Particularly, rich men.

And that’s not to say that we are gold diggers. It simply means that we understand a few things about relationships. For instance, we know that we are expected to dole out meals, fresh laundry, punishments, and snacks, all whilst wearing six inch stilettos and smiling. We also know that we are expected to look like goddesses, even when we are sick, sweaty, and tired.

I love mother very much, however, we have grown apart in recent years. Her current fiancé, Larry, is a sadistic, filthy, cruel, pig of a man. Yes, he is involved in several charitable organizations, but all he genuinely cares about is himself. I have never seen him strike Mother, but I see the bruises she attempts to hide with makeup and large, Jacquie O’Nassis sunglasses.

However, we are never supposed to do or say things that we would not feel comfortable publishing on the front page of the newspaper. I am confident and secure with my behaviour, and have stopped frivolous attempts to gain other’s affection. In fact, to parlez vous moi Francais, I don’t give a flying f*** what people think of me anymore.

Perhaps that is why I am finally finding inner happiness?