People used to ask me ‘What are you going to do when you get old, are you still going to wear that much make-up and dress like that?’
“Of course, you fool," I would respond, often flicking the inches of ash hanging off my freshly lit Super King into their child’s face as I walked off.
“I’ll never change, I don’t need to change,” I would tell myself.
I was always fascinated with the idea that other people felt the need to tell me that I ‘needed to change’. Or sometimes not even that I needed to, they just wanted to know if the possibility of change was true.
Other people’s desire to know if I was going to change the way I looked, I realised in my adulthood, didn’t come from a place of wellness - rather from a desire to disprove the validity or truth of my then current state. To imply that change in the future means the past must have been a falsehood. An attempt to bring me down to their level of familiarity, so that the reality that I was presenting to them didn’t seem so threatening.
In 2020, my life shifted and so did I. I honoured and accepted the natural change that I was experiencing, and
