By Caro Cooper
Fuck you, fuck work, fuck pants, fuck polite, fuck coffee (no, I take that back), fuck brushing my teeth (OK, no, not that either – but screw everything else).
I was raised like so many other girls in the ’80s: to be nice, quiet, polite. Even though age has worn me down, I still carry the burden of it all. I say, “Thanks, thank you,” to everyone – really, just like that. Someone holds a door open for me and I hinge at the hips in supplication as I squeak out, “Thanks, thank you.” Two thanks to make sure they really hear my gratitude. I laugh awkwardly when people insult me, then apologise for my inadequacies. I’m a frilly knickerbocker-wearing jellyfish that never wants to upset the…
