Eat the Cheese, Fuck that Person.

I am not suggesting you eat the cheese if you are lactose intolerant, vegan, or anything else that may mean the cheese would be harmful to your beliefs or health. Also, I have written ‘person’, as a nod to they because gender pronouns matter – and I try to be inclusive.

However, the entire message of this post is – stop living ‘less than’. (Which is funny considering in my opening lines I was giving all the options to not eat the cheese).

Maybe I should have written cake.

I digress.

I have for a very long time been of the mind that – what is the worst that can happen? What is the worst that can happen if I choose to not work today, what is the worst that can happen if I dye my hair green, what is the worst that can happen if I am open and honest? My motto is ‘I do what I want’ on 9/10 things.

As a mother, and a writer of things, social media type, and creator in general – I live a very varied life. I do however have daily constants. School runs, lunches, and so on. Things I HAVE to do. Things that make me a functioning cog of society.

For a long time, I  used to keep myself in check. Don’t drink the gin at your lunch meeting. Don’t be too messy. Don’t eat that fat riddled cheese. Wear sensible shoes. Wear a bra. Get dressed in clothes that make sense to other people.

I was curbing myself. I was being less than. On purpose.


Who the fuck do I have to please apart from myself? Truthfully? No one. I don’t mean that in the selfish way that it may sound, but really when it comes down to it – the only person who actually has to like me, is me.

So why did I eat less cheese? To fit in a form of what the media tells me I should look like? Does it matter who I fucked before my husband? The truth of the matter is, it doesn’t actually matter. 

I know many single parents now, and they have met someone who they want to burn loins with – but aren’t. In case they are judged for having kids and getting down with a new man/woman/person. I mean what the hell is that about? Who is anyone to judge someone else? Like we all don’t have our closets wedged shut with our own heaps of skeletons hidden away.

We tiptoe on the eggshells of life because we are scared shitless that if we don’t hold back, if we actually be who we are the hand of the crowds will point at us and frown. How dare you be so… you.

Well, fuck them.

I got very sick of not eating the cheese, I got sick of wearing sensible shoes, I got sick of my mousey brown ringlets, I got sick of being less than myself trying to be what I thought other people wanted me to be. Maybe expected me to be is the better term here.

So my advice, and you can do what you like with it, is this:

Eat the cake, drink the gin, eat the cheese, fuck that person (unless it’s going to hurt someone), do that thing that makes your heart wobble a bit, branch out, grow into your skin and love the fuck out of yourself for it. Because at the end of the day, living less than, to please other people will see you sitting at 80 wondering what the fuck you did with your life. You don’t have to go down in the history books, but you do have one life to live (as far as we know) so why not do it well.

like wearing sunglasses at 3am – you do you, whatever that might look like. 

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