Don't Stand By Him, Cheryl

I've not been a huge fan of Cheryl Tweedy, now Cheryl Cole. My knowledge of her is limited to this: she's in Girls Aloud, she was found guilty of assault occasioning actual bodily harm in 2004, she's a footballers' wife, and she's mates with (heave) Posh Spice.

But I'm going to grant her temporary forgiveness as I feel so sorry for her that her husband Ashley, who she publicly adored and worshipped, has been cheating on her.

... WITH THIS.

Aimee Walton, 22, is a hairdresser who claims she slept with Ashley. For added finesse, he offered to pay for an abortion if she got pregnant.

[I'll leave for discussion in another post the repulsive ignorance of chavs towards the numerous sexually transmitted infections that are rife in this country, including HIV.]

Now other girls are crawling out of the woodwork with allegations that they too have slept with Ashley / been paid off by his posse, with an ex claiming she was paid £10,000 to delete all texts relating to him.

Some people are never happy with what they have: even the cat who got the cream will seemingly crave a sip of milk once in a while. Celebrities, although the most likely to become exposed, seem to slip up all the time. Perhaps it comes with the territory: mix big egos with wads of cash and trouble can't be too far away.

Personally I hope Cheryl has the strength to walk away. At 24 she has her whole life ahead of her and could have some fun with the girls before settling down with a decent man who won't behave in this disgusting, disrespectful manner. She's beautiful, rich and famous, so I doubt she'd be in short supply of admirers.

In most cases, I don't believe a relationship can survive that kind of treason. Often, the best bet is to cut your losses and try to move on. Attempts to repair damage that's already been done only prolong the agony.

Improvisation

Perhaps it's winter and the effects of the notorious S.A.D.*, but I feel a bit of a slob at the moment. I've had the feeling recently that I looked better onceuponatime.

Don't get the wrong impression here - I haven't let myself go. I'm the same dress size I was then, haven't dramatically changed in appearance, but the rose-tinted spectacles of nostalgia (and the fact that I've only ever kept the good photos of myself) convince me I was far more attractive and glamorous then.

It could be simply that I need a project, because I have the kind of brain that always needs a new goal. Unfortunately this doesn't help me in my career, only in my personal life. For example, I'll decide I need to save money, so I'll scrimp and save until my bank balance looks healthy. Or I'll consider furthering my education, researching part time and distance learning courses in an attempt to better myself.

Anyway, time for a step up to make me feel better about myself. I'll be making an appointment at the hairdressers (when I get the time), getting my nails done, and whatever else it takes to make me feel a little bit closer to gorgeousness.

It's a good job I'm not up for plastic surgery (pain, cost, risks, moral decay) - I'd be an addict.

*Seasonal Affective Disorder, not a gangster rapper

One Moment In Time

There I was worrying again about something that turned out to be nothing to worry about at all. Somehow I have a habit of expecting the worst. I thoroughly enjoyed meeting up with my friends the other day, one I see regularly and the other I hadn't seen for over 18 months (she lives far away). It all just snapped back into place as though we'd never been apart, and it was lovely to catch up. I was worried that it would feel different. It didn't at all.

It's difficult to put into words the feelings I have sometimes: how a rush of panic comes over me on occasion and seems to consume my thoughts. I hate it. I want to be calm. I don't want to be a worrier, or neurotic, and I shouldn't be. I have a natural confidence, the ability to stand my ground, and I've been in some difficult situations before and coped all right.

As I've grown up, the things that Teenage Me used to pride herself on are not necessarily qualities I want to retain. For example, the fact that I could win a slanging match, or was able to look and act as though nothing could knock my confidence, were features I relished. Nowadays, I just want to be a decent human being, to cater to the needs of those I care about, and be happy.

I don't have many regrets. I do regret the way I talked to my mum when she and my dad announced they were separating, but I was sixteen, and most sixteen year old girls clash with their mothers. That doesn't make it right, but it's not a unique circumstance, and we have a brilliant relationship now.

I regret the fact that when I was at uni I travelled home every weekend to see a boyfriend, who I broke up with about six months after graduating - but then again, if I hadn't, maybe I'd have gone out and taken Ecstasy like some of my other friends, and who knows what else.

I am a firm believer in "everything happens for a reason".

In my late twenties, I still have the same crises of confidence, but I don't let a bad hair day affect my life or who I am! I just analyse every potential scenario, and contemplate how I'll manage it. Perhaps the answer is to relax and cross each bridge when I come to it.

Like learning to accept the fact that there's always going to be someone more beautiful, more intelligent or funnier than you are - something I found unacceptable and extremely depressing at eighteen - maybe one day I'll learn not to worry so much. As they say: "Cheer up love, it might never happen!"

Things That Can Fuck Right Off

1. Spots. I had lovely skin the other day, and it's just exploded overnight it seems.
2. Being harrassed. Next time someone tries to manipulate or pressurise me I'm going to tell them exactly where they can stick it.
3. Worrying about other people. I need to get out of that habit. Down with the guilt complex!
4. Never having enough time.
5. Being too tired.

I am going to have to be strict with myself and make some resolutions relating to how I deal with other people's demands. Oh yes, it may sound very psychoanalytical, but I try to people-please, and it doesn't work. It's a predicament I've developed in adulthood; I'm sure I just did what I wanted until I hit about 24.

All There in Black and White

I went to my best friend's house last night and we sat in her attic, trawling through old notes, diaries, poems and photos that we've collected since we were 13. I'm grateful to have these artefacts, paraphernalia of days gone by that can remind me of things I'd almost forgotten, pushed to the back of my memory. I'm aware that many people aren't lucky enough to have such close and longstanding friends, let alone having a collection of paperwork as evidence of their youth.

Everything was documented. From the innocent times when a call to the home phone from a male caused us to avoid eye contact with our parents for days on end, to the obsessions we had over various (usually unsuitable) boys, to drunken nights out, losing our virginity, starting office jobs and spending the whole day sending each other letters via fax (the internet wasn't quite as accessible back in the Nineties), and going to university... it's all there, and it's amazing.

I had almost forgotten my first year of college, where I had a crush on a different boy every week. They were normally geeks, according to my diary entries approximately a week later - usually once they'd turned me down (through a third party, of course - I'd never have approached anyone myself).

There was the limbo year, before uni, where we worked in offices across town from each other and considered methods of increasing our busts which (for some reason) included eating oats, and the era during which we both returned from university at weekends and got so drunk that we'd have to piece together the night's events the following day, with only vague recollections.

There have been times where one or other or both of us has been in a long term relationship, and where our antics have been a little less wild, and times when we walked up to bars and ordered twenty £1 bottles of alcopops each, as we didn't want to waste money buying drinks in the club. Funnily enough, if I tried to drink 20 bottles of VK now I think I'd pass out. Actually, I feel quite drunk on a large glass of pino grigio nowadays!

I remember all these things and I can't believe there have been times we've ever fallen out, knowing each other so well and having been through so much. Yet we have had our moments where we've disagreed on something or other and I've wondered whether we've still got anything in common. At the moment I'm appalled I could ever have thought that: we have our whole teenage and adult lives in common!

But life changes, and we've both changed. We're still the same people. Right now we're at a point where we think the same. We have the same ideas on how we want to spend our time, on how we prioritise. We both have demanding jobs and understand that we can't go out drinking on a work night; we live just over 20 miles apart and that's enough to mean we can't pop over for a cuppa, but we make the effort to see each other whenever we can.

"It's not fair," Best Friend said last night. "It seems as though yesterday we were snogging boys, and now we're nearly thirty........"

What's changed the most is that I consider my actions now far more than I ever did. As much as I'd love to smoke a cigarette, simply because I was heavily addicted for seven years, I couldn't do it to my body, I couldn't risk becoming dependent on something that's so unhealthy, so costly and so antisocial. Equally, I love a drink, but I don't drink on weekday evenings. I wouldn't take drugs because really, why the hell would I want to? - and I don't think I ever did want to.

I wouldn't want to go to work with a hangover because now I have more to do than open the post. I'm more aware of the circumstances of my actions and I see the world as a more dangerous place, but I think that's old age for you. I'm sure these were the dangers my mother saw when she watched me leave the house for yet another drunken night out... the concerns she had for me are undoubtedly the same concerns I will one day have for my own child.

Sometimes I feel sad that so much time has passed and that we've grown up, but I know there's so much more to come. I don't think I ever really had my life mapped out like some girls do - you know, "I'll get married at 25, have kids at 28, blah blah blah" - and I'm looking forward to finding out what happens next. Sometimes I can't wait, because I never have been patient and always wanted to run before I could walk. But there's a whole life out there still to live - and I plan to document the rest, too!