The Don't Beat Yourself Up Guide To Being A Bit Of A Grumpy Cow

I would like to think that most people would think I am quite a bubbly person. God I hate the word 'bubbly'. But due to the fact I am a bit chubby, blond and loud I would imagine it is the word that is used to describe me most. But more recently I would describe myself as sometimes? Being a proper grumpy cow. My tolerance level to the general public is low and my poor husband must be sick to the back teeth of my rolling eyes and tutting. I tut a lot. Oh and mutter under my breath "for f*cks sake".

I relish a good moan with my best friend and in my more darker PMS ridden moments I enjoy a cry about important things such as how sad the film Saving Mr Banks is. You know life shattering issues. As I had my first child when I was well into my 30's I'm not sure that it is due to getting older or becoming a parent. A parent gives you this huge shift in priorities. And also means you are extremely knackered. Previously in times of old if someone cut you up you may have inwardly sighed. Now you are exhausted and can find yourself shouting whilst sticking your fingers up at the d*ck that could have killed your kids (forgetting that you are the d*ck that screamed "D*CK!" in front of your kids).

F*cking wind.

I have been thinking a lot about what to do with the grumpy side of my character. Shall I ditch her? Shall I try in vain to always be super positive? Shall I smile when someone nearly crashes into me? If someone who serves me in a cafe when I am with my kids starts swearing really loudly shall I grin and think "teens will be teens?". Orrrrrrr shall I walk over and give them a full lecture about professionalism whilst embarrassing my husband in the process? Well I think we all know the answer to that one (I am not welcome in my local Subway).

I kinda like the grumpy cow in me. She makes me smile. She makes me have the confidence to distance myself from friends who are more of a drain than a joy. She encourages me to shout at the tele during reality TV and she always vanishes when my kids are around (bar when they won't put their shoes on. She hates that). Alas she does rear her head from time to time when I am in the presence of my husband.

So no longer will I be worrying about 'sticking a smile on it' when a smile is not needed. I am going to embrace my grumpy cowness. She is a kinda reverse Sasha Fierce. But unlike Beyonce I don't have to squeeze into a corset to channel her. She's proper happy moping around in pyjama bottoms and a sweatshirt. Now sod off and leave me alone. I've got an episode of Ex On The Beach to be outraged at.