My key take-away from Tina Fey’s excellent book, ‘Bossypants’, is that of all the poses to strike on a magazine cover, the thumb casually hooked into the knickers is the worst.  I am terribly pleased that I know this, obviously, because I need to be prepared for the future. (In the future I will probably be far too busy to write this blog as I will be negotiating with ‘Maxim’ over poses). I really like the future. The future is where I will once again fit into the jeans I last wore when I was 16. (Obviously they are currently folded neatly with my other jeans. Just waiting). I will start getting up an hour before work just to run in the park. I will learn how to blow-dry my hair exactly as they do at the hairdressers. I will finish Proust. I will drink less, but be just as fun. I will accidentally make an absurd amount of money, but it won’t change anything. (Except I will increase my donations to charity. And drink better vodka). The future is magnificent because in it I’ll get to be a much more succesful version of myself. And pose tastefully for ‘Maxim’. I can’t wait. But, crucially, I AM. I would be very pleased if other people could politely follow my example.In  the FUTURE, it is absolutely fine to be a doctor, have glossy hair, get a promotion, run the marathon eye-wateringly fast (you all know who you are). In the future, these things are completely acceptable and welcome (I don’t want any ugly jealousy marring my ‘Maxim’ moment). IN THE FUTURE.

P.S. Congratulations to this Summer’s newly qualified doctors, I imagine from now on your lives will be exactly like Grey’s Anatomy.

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