Years of waxing your pudenda into a heart-shaped lie and then he leaves you for a Cyborgasmatrix silicone doll called Cindy. And now you're alone. Possibly for the first time in your life. Possibly at the worst time of your life. Branded with stretch marks, greying hair, and shame. You look into the future and all you see are the birthdays, Christmases, and New Years Eves where you are the lonely object of pity and the fear is so strong that you can't even leave your one-room flat that will always smell slightly of the previous tenant's cat.
Truth time. This divorce is the best thing that ever happened to you. It was the best thing that ever happened to me.
I realised I had spent the whole of my marriage terrified of being left if I didn't stay thin enough, attractive enough, accommodating of his increasingly humiliating sexual habits enough. I thought being alone was the worst thing that could happen. It wasn't. I fought the fear and I won. I'm now three times the woman I ever was - quite literally - and I'm having more sex than Wayne Carey on a coke binge. On my terms. Leave the lube at home fellas. Hazel's plenty juicy already.
Divorce Fear. Live Free.
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