It's a strange thing, your voice. I mean, I know I'm funny... not like Amy Schumer funny, or like any comedian, actually not like anyone who is actually "funny", but as a previous boss said with a strange look on her face "Victoria, you're just so... so, quirky". Anyway, I'm taking that as a compliment. I'm quirky. It has taken me 8 years from that moment to get that quirky is ok.
How did she come to this conclusion? Let me count the ways...I love cats. (Cue eye roll; WHATEVER, to you, eyeroller). I love plants and am currently turning my house into a jungalow, you know, like a bungalow but with a jungle in it? (That's going to be super in about 4 months when the baby starts to crawl). I love punk music and rock'n'roll, and Emerald green, and leopard print and food. ALL THE FOOD. I guess one thing that I have always loved is loads of chunky silver jewellery. Apparently that makes me quirky. Or if you ask my granddad, it makes me "look like a biker's woman". Once again, compliment accepted!
The cool thing about learning about those little corners of yourself is the acceptance. Am I'm always going to tap my foot to The Buzzcocks? Probably. Will I continue to interrupt Kieran's Top Gear viewing with Facebook videos of funny cats? More than likely. Will I continue to collect pot plants until my house looks like the Uma Thurman Poison Ivy in that awesome/terrible Batman movie? Absolutely!
Am I going to wear as much silver jewellery as I can? You best believe it! Do you know why? Because I can. Because I love it. Because I'm quirky. Because I'm the Queen of a Jungalow, that dresses a bit grunge-met-a --bikers- woman, and that's ok. It's more than ok. It's me.