It Is What It Is and It Aint What It Was

By Shanna Hindson

I don't know why I've written this book, I don't even know if anyone will ever read past this blurb but what I do know is.... Tough times don't last, Tough people do!

As a child you have delusions of grandeur that by the time you're 30 you'll be famous, have a huge house and possibly even servants....Yeah right...More likely a 9-5 job, boyfriend and grossly, hair in places that really isn't necessary! At 28 my life wasn't what I'd imagined and was about to get a whole lot further from that childhood fantasy....

I'm not gonna give too much away, just simply say that I write about my experiences...Please don't buy this thinking it's a Bridget Jones blockbuster, more like the Lambrini drinking, day time TV watching version...where cheating arseholes are seen for what they really are, grannies are people to beware of and revenge is the only drug you will ever need.

So for those of you struggling with a break up, feeling like your life is just stuck in a rut or dwelling on the past......Read on and move forward....I hope I can make you realise... A clock doesn't go backwards so why should you!

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Jan 12, 2012
• ISBN: 9781467888851

Shanna Hindson

Shanna Hindson writes with passion and wit, a tenacious attitude towards life that makes you realise, things aren't always as bad as they seem..... Sometimes they're worse! She writes for women everywhere using true emotion and a fresh look at cheating, revenge and chasing your dreams. Never has a writer dared to write with such honesty, challenge the views of society and the status quo. Shanna Hindson was born in South East London and takes you on a journey that many 20-30-40 year old females will at some point in their life face.... But unlike most writers she does not give you delusions of grandeur instead she says it just how it is....Challenge your views and step into the world of a straight talking, quick witted woman and see your life never be the same again.

Book preview

Prologue

You know the saying The shits gonna hit the fan… Well it did, and trust me when it does, it splatters sideways, up the wall and in your face!

I believe every event in your life will happen for a reason! There is no such thing as coincidence; coincidence is merely a product of Fate. Let’s say Fate is the King, Destiny would be his Queen and Coincidence their child.

We’re all put on this Earth for a purpose. Don’t get me wrong I’m not religious or into all that You shall reap the rewards in Heaven. No flipping way, I want rewards now not when I’m dead and gone and no-one gives a crap!

Well, what I’m trying to say is, your life will take twists and turns, quite like a rollercoaster, sometimes you will even be sick and want to get off. But like that rollercoaster, as crappy as you may feel, there is always that buzz somewhere along the way that makes it all worthwhile.

My life wasn’t what I’d planned it to be; I’d always dreamed I would achieve something great and make people proud of me. So at 28years old, I was failing miserably! I had a fiance, good steady job and an alright family. Most people my age would be grateful for this. Not me, as you’ll soon realise, I hate NORMAL, SENSIBLE and mostly I HATE the 9-5 lifestyle. And so that’s where Fate and his wife Destiny came in. My so-called normal existence was soon to be twisted, turned and smashed into smithereens.

Some of you will think I’m bitter, a bitch or even plain nasty throughout this and, well, I wouldn’t blame you! I’m not writing for pity, revenge or any real reason but to make other women realistically look at cheating arseholes for what they are and realise that it is sometimes a blessing in disguise, an ironic messed up way that life can make you stop taking things for granted and LIVE!

I despise women, who when finding out their partner has cheated will cry, blame themselves, wonder if it’s because they aren’t attractive anymore. Or worse of all, think they can Work it out. I’m not one of those women, never have been, never will be!

I am also baffled by us women and when we first fancy someone why do we not see past the bad breath? Man-breasts? The fact the guy is still wearing Reebok classics after the 90’s and living at home with Mummy? I think it’s what I like to call the Charity date.

Many of us women go for the Charity date as firstly we know they won’t say no, secondly we will always be better than them and thirdly, us ladies like a project!

The Charity date will always be easy to please and take minimal effort… But never be confused, this son-of-a-bitch will turn! Once you get their self-esteem up they will turn, take all your hard work and piss it up the wall!

But remember the Charity date upon leaving you will never achieve anything more. You were the founder, therefore you MADE them and just as easily you can break them!

This isn’t a self-help book or about finding my soul mate and living happily ever-after.

It is what it is, just a book of random events, happening to a random girl…

There’s a lot that’s happened in this past year. All 525600 little minutes of it, so I’ll start at the beginning of the end…

Part 1:

End Of The Beginning

People think because something bad has happened, it’s the end…

It’s not!

Like a book it is simply the end of that chapter… And just like a book, the best is yet to come…

If you liked it then you shoulda put a

ring on it.. Oh shit he did!

I can’t do this, I seriously cannot do this, and I don’t bloody WANT to do this!

I’m suffering a major panic attack and finding the restaurant I’m sat in stifling. The room is getting hotter by the second and the talking that was previously whispers is getting louder and louder.

Why does that happen in restaurants? Quiet chatter and mild mannered eating eventually become a crescendo of loud inaudible voices that sound as if they are shouting louder than humanly possible!

I can feel my head beginning to pound and trying to regulate my heart beat is becoming near on impossible. I wonder if it’s possible for a heart to pump right out of a chest? I excuse myself and quickly walk to the toilet to try and calm myself down.

With every footstep I try to catch my breath. I feel as though there are a million tiny volcanoes on my skin, erupting from every pore and covering every inch of me in burning liquid. I’m sweating like I’ve just run a marathon, with my heart pounding like the devil was running behind me and chasing me for my soul. Wow, could I be anymore melodramatic! I finally reach the toilet and grab hold of the sink, I try to breathe calmly and talk myself out of this stupid state I’ve gotten in. It’s not the worst thing that could happen, most people would embrace this; see it as a fresh start and a new beginning, a progression into womanhood.

This is what grown-ups do, this is the sign that you are on the right path… I breathe deeply. in. out. in. out, as I try to

buy into these reassuring thoughts and start to look at my surroundings.

Nice. In all of my panic I seem to have travelled back in time to a toilet of 1992.

Don’t worry I haven’t lost the plot and you haven’t picked up some time travel science fiction book by mistake; it is just the restaurant toilet looks like my bathroom (and probably most of England’s) during the early 90’s.

It’s large and covered in peach and cream wallpaper like most were back then, when your Mum had plates and cups to match, every home back then seemed to own plates that had a cream base and peach flower on them. They were likely a wedding present, saved for best when your Grandparents or friends came over. Why did everything have to be peach back then, even loo roll? The 90’s was infested with peach, flowers and pot pourri which everyone who wanted to pretend they were posh would pronounce Po-Paree! In our house it was simply Pot Puray.

This breaks my panic and gives me something else to momentarily think about. The smell is of floral air-freshener with the slight hint of sweet and sour sauce seeping in from the restaurants kitchen which must be just next door. That grabs me back to now and where I really am. Good old 2009, where I’m an adult, I get bills, periods, hair in places that really isn’t necessary and worst of all panic attacks!

I try to focus on the decor and memories of being 9 or 10 years old when my only worry was if I had enough pocket money for the new Salt& Pepper album or if the adult content would mean my Step-Dad wouldn’t let me have it. My Mum was always cool with things like that, but he was the adult of the two, the sensible one. My Mum often said he was like the man from the Julia Roberts film Sleeping with the Enemy. Don’t think I should’ve actually even been watching that film as it was a 15(and I was nowhere near) but that proves my point and he was kind of like him, having everything in its place; the only difference was he didn’t have a moustache!

My thoughts are disturbed when the door opens and an elderly lady walks in. She’s dressed nice, classy, like she could have been an old black& white film star at some point. I smile at her and she smiles back. For that moment in time I want to swap lives with her. Trade my youth for her class and happy

life, which I am assuming she has had. She walks into the cubical and takes a final glance at me. Is she pitying me? Old people always seem to have that ability to know stuff. She smiles again before shutting the door. She definitely knows! Women seem to have that psychic sense when another woman is upset, angry, troubled, or just genuinely not feeling themselves. We seem to have a psychic sympathy mechanism for each other..

I take a deep breath and realise I cannot hide in this toilet for much longer without looking like I have serious bowel problems or am claiming squatters’ rights. OK Pep talk time. You can do this, it’s the right thing, the sensible thing to do! My breathing begins to slow and I raise my head to look in the mirror. I’m frumpy, no makeup, hair just tied up in a bun and I wonder when I died and this person replaced me. She is drab, frumpy, lifeless and looks like a person who has had the life sucked from her. Overweight, dressed in clothes that would probably provide a homely tent for a 3rd world family and she’s looking at me like it’s my entire fault that this has happened! I once cared about my appearance, not overly done or a page 3 stunner but made the most of what I had, clothes always pristine and makeup immaculate. Now I look like someone who wears clothes because it’s the law to, not because I enjoy them as I used to.

It makes me calm down a bit, let’s be honest I’m not going to get any other marriage proposals looking like this, so it’s not so daunting knowing this may be my last hope. That’s right my major life threatening panic was bought on by my boyfriend proposing to me just 10minutes ago in this Chinese eat all you want (or in his case can) restaurant. It all got a bit too much, overwhelming but not in the good sense! I don’t feel nervous or anxious because, as most girls do, the love of my life has just proposed and they get to live Happily Ever After. I feel as though I’m on a plane and the captain has just announced the plane is going to plummet to the ground at a zillion miles per hour and there’s nothing I can do about it.

I feel as though my life is over!

10 minutes ago before my panic stupor, Daniel (my boyfriend) had proposed, but not really what I would like to say was a proposal. Not how I had imagined it but in his manly "I love

West Ham way I suppose it was what it was. His exact words were So we engaged now we’re back together. Might as well be cos I don’t want no-one else". Short and to the point! Whilst flattering that he doesn’t want anyone else and has gone to amazing lengths to get me back each time I have tried to get away. I can’t help but think it’s because he’s lazy. It’s not that he is in love with me, it’s because no other sane woman would want him and deep down he knows this. Well if he doesn’t I am sure on many occasions’ I have told him and will continue to do so during moments of rage!

I had smiled and agreed with his statement. We had been together 9years on and off and, well, how I was looking these days I wasn’t going to get much better. Plus he was one of the good guys, honest, always there and would be someone I would be able to rely on through the years.

We were talking about rings and telling family, We aint gotta get a ring just yet have we, he said whilst stuffing a duck pancake in his mouth. My answer was as simple as his nonchalant proposal, Erm yes we have or it’s not being engaged.

He carried on eating and just nodded. I watched him, the man I was going to spend the rest of my