Confessions of a Drunken Slut Mum

Hello there. Would you like to come and explore my world – a little secluded spot which sits somewhere between these lines?

“Who are you?” I hear you ask. This is something I cannot tell you, but I am no one and anyone. I’m somewhere and anywhere: the tired-looking mum who’s waiting at the school gates with dried baked bean juice on her jeans; the one pushing the trolley in the supermarket at the same time as restraining the child trying to grab tins from the shelves; the bedraggled one in the playground catching the small boy at the bottom of the slide. Just like 50,000 others in any town, anywhere.

But while those other mums all seem to be colour-co-ordinated and perfectly made up, side-glancing at my crusty sleeves and messed-up hair, they haven’t just drank half a bottle of wine and writhed around on a bed while someone has turned every inch of their body to an earthquake of ecstasy.

I confess – I am a Drunken Slut Mum. In my spare time.

And I have been give the space here each week to open the door just wide enough for you to sneak a peek into my secret den, the red and pink cushioned place I call my own.

This is part confessional, part therapy, part embellishment and part truth… with a dash of gin.

www.drunkenslutmum.co.uk

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