I wanted to achieve lots of things when I was young and idealistic, but I was fairly changeable with my idea of a vocation, and didn’t really settle on a profession until I was 28 and a half.

For a while I wanted to be a fashion designer and the 9th year of my existence was spent filling notepads with drawings showcasing my various hot new collections.

They all seemed to be quite similar in tone, big haired women with hoop earrings and exposed midriffs, posing in thigh high boots with fishnet tops. They would stand with their hands behind their backs, because fuck drawing hands, and they had price guides attached to their clothes. I thought it would be helpful to Marks and Spencers when I sent them my work. Oddly enough, they never responded.

After that I got less specific and settled on some kind of artist. I didn’t know what kind of artist I wanted to be. I thought a style was something that emerged organically, or something you leant on when you realised it was what people responded to most.

I focused mainly on the successful lifestyle, living on the embankment of London making art, stuff that didn’t take too long but sold really well. You know. Like a drawing of my hand.

I wanted to be tall and lithe by the time I was 29.  I comfort ate as a teenager, because you know, food tastes good and my parents were getting divorced, so it tasted extra good. I would lie in my bed and pinch my fat, mentally tracing a chalk outline around my chubby little body and imagining it melting away, until I emerged six inches taller. Mr Kipling apple pies were my vice. Along with chocolate, milkshakes, chips, chicken nuggets, bacon and cookies. I also wanted boobs. I also wanted to be blonde. Oh and to be American. I think I wanted to be Pamela Anderson.

I was told that by this age I would be married, mortgaged and have some kind of career that involved a power suit. I would currently be on maternity leave in this alternative universe, and my husband, David Duchovny would be massaging my back. It was also my ambition to marry him when I was 13.  Not at 13, that would be weird. But then I also wanted to marry DeForest Kelley. So I think I was just weird.

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