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A Different Kind of Lesson

At school I never quite fitted in. Even my uniform didn’t quite meet the fashionable requirements nor was I particularly popular. I was happy in my own world, happy in the library and even happier in the art studio. I didn’t need anyone other than Jane Eyre, Emily Bronte or Marc Chagall. They were my heroes. Painting and reading fulfilled everything that I needed or wanted. I am not sure how it feels today to be a teenager, nor the pressures that girls deal with. I had different role models. It’s a lot more complicated now. But it didn’t make our journey growing up any easier. We all had our insecurities, our body hang-ups, heart aches and heart breaks. The difference now is everything is online; everything is streamed live or on Facebook. Break up and makes ups, divorce, relationships, moods. Nothing is private. Weight loss, weight gain, body shaming, haters and lovers alike… We are scrutinized, mocked, adored and loved in perhaps equal measure. But we need to remember one thing, that as hard as it all is, whatever anyone says, the only opinion that truly matters deep down is what we think of ourselves. No one is harder on us, than we are to ourselves.


One of our biggest lessons is to be kind to ourselves; to treat ourselves with as much care and compassion as any lover. I wish at school there was a class each week that taught us how to look after ourselves and nurture our souls. That would have been much more useful than home economics… I never did learn to sew, but I know an excellent tailor who can!

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