Substack Plans; On Being a Woman.
I’m deciding whether to upload my blog posts here, in order to access the mailing list, increase my reach, and do the modern trendy thing of having a substack rather than a blog.
I’m also rather desperate for money, having been ‘let go’ from my (very poorly paid) monthly food column for the Ham and High.
I wonder if anybody would pay for my content. I lack confidence with this, despite having written an award-winning blog on food and travel since 2008.
Other people are making a living being an influencer or via substack. I may be doing this too late. I imagine people only have a certain amount of money. I don’t pay for any substacks, nor would I. I simply can’t afford it. But then since the pandemic I have an income of around £6k a year. I’ve been living off my dwindling retirement savings so that by the time I retire, I’ll have nothing left and have to live off the state pension of 11k a year.
Oh us lucky boomers, we are so rich and fortunate.
The spoilt boomer narrative - who does it refer to? Americans I think.
I left school in 1979 to a Thatcherite unemployment rate of 3 million. I don’t feel like a boomer.
Yes I own my flat. I bought a studio flat for 27k then scrimped and saved to get to my current 2 bedroom garden flat. This would probably be impossible now.
When I was younger, I never ate out. In fact I only owned 1 cookbook from childhood until I started writing a food blog in 2008. I don’t own expensive cosmetics or creams and never have. I don’t get clothes dry-cleaned. I don’t go out drinking, can’t afford it. I’m not a member of any clubs, never have been. I don’t buy designer fashion (I bought a Vivienne Westwood jacket second hand in Portobello last year, first piece ever).
All of my furniture is second-hand and mostly found for free on the street.
My luxury is travel, but if I’m doing it on my own dime, it’s hostels for me.
My ‘poverty’ is because I’m a single woman. I brought up a kid as a single parent, and that makes you poor. Any money I ever had went to clothing, feeding and educating my daughter.
Now I can’t even afford to turn on my heating. I’m lonely and have no one to go out with even if I could afford it. I have to be brave and do everything on my own, I don’t have a choice.
Sometimes I get treats from my parents that I couldn’t afford ever; for instance, this Christmas they rented a house in Suffolk for the family. They are in their mid-eighties.
Most pensioner poverty is women. Single women, especially single parents are poorer than married women. They don’t benefit from their husband’s income or pension. They’ve taken years out to bring up children to scant financial reward.
As I grow older I’ve realised more and more that once a woman is no longer of fuckable age, she is detested.
Look at how they’ve been treated over the trans issue. Women are always the first to be voted out on reality shows. People just don’t like women. I wonder why?
I don’t like being a woman. Talking to a friend yesterday, I detailed all the surgical interventions and health problems I’ve had are due to being a woman: fibroids, breast reduction, emergency caesarian, losing teeth during pregnancy (everyone has their weak point).
Everything physical about being a woman was and is a nightmare. My periods were so awful I had to stay in bed (actually mostly a hot bath) for a week each month. It was debilitating. I hate being small. I hate not being strong.
I’ve never enjoyed being a woman. Some women do. Being a woman is being vulnerable, preyed upon then ignored, not taken seriously. Who enjoys being a woman?