In which I disagree with someone more important than me...

Reader, the other night I went to hear a Very Important Man (VIM) who is involved in my industry speak. A lot of what he said I nodded appreciatively at, and I applauded at his work and even stood up when everyone else did at the end to give a standing ovation (although I felt a bit silly given he hadn't just performed or done a Ted Talk). But there was one thing out of all of the things he said that I really, really disagreed with.

A young student in the audience asked for advice for people who wanted to be actors and he replied, in all seriousness; 'Don't be in a relationship, don't get married, don't have kids'.

To that, I say BOLLOCKS.

In case you mis-read, that is a very clear, BOLLOCKS.

Being an actor is not always easy. When you're working, it can be the best job on earth, but the set backs are hard and sometimes it can be emotionally traumatic. Last week 3 potential, well paying, career changing jobs melted away into nothing when I found out I had been lied to by a professional catfish ( you can see the vlog on that HERE). I was gutted. I was scared. I felt invaded. But about a year ago, I was also lucky enough to meet someone who changed my life and who knows more about me than anyone else in the world, someone who I respect as an actor and producer, someone who gives great advice and who I love so much that sometimes it scares me a bit. So when at first I tried to overlook the fraud, he sat me down and gently made me look properly so that I'd see going to meet this person was unwise and would put me in an unsafe situation. When I felt stupid he told me all the thing that made him proud of me, that I often overlook. When I cried, he held me and kissed me till I stopped shaking and then sat me on a terrace in his jumper and brought me wine and chocolate. By the morning I felt ready to do detective work on the fraudster and properly report them, and felt more positive about my life.

If I had been single, I wouldn't have had that sounding board. Yes, friends and family are incredible and make my life wonderful every day, but being in a relationship you get a cheer squad of one and a partner in crime to back you up and help make difficult decisions. Now I'm not saying you need to be in a relationship as an actor, of course not! I've been single as an actor, and it was fulfilling and excellent! But it didn't make me a better actor. Nor does being in a relationship, but it gives you some much needed support in an industry that can sometimes be very lonely.

You also have someone to share the good times with-we've celebrated so many achievements together, and because he's there to see how hard I work at it, he knows how important it is when something finally pays off and we take huge amounts of joy from our successes.

Ok, so being in a relationship means that when you go to work abroad or on tour you have someone to miss, but that just means that you have something excellent to come home to. True, you can't just jet off to live in LA at a minutes notice but a) when would you have done that anyway, leaving all your family and friends behind and b) to be honest I would follow my partner anywhere, and I know he'd do the same-what matters is that we have someone to enjoy the journey with us.

Now please don't take this as me single shaming, it's not at all. I loved being single, I was great at being single, I was a single actor for a year and my career was just dandy. But don't let people tell you that being in a relationship gets in the way of your career. If you're with the right person, it supports it. You determine how your life works, how your relationships work, how your career works. If you're in a relationship that's holding you back, then it may be time to look at the dynamics of that relationship. But for goodness sake, don't give up on love just because some 'industry professional' told you to. That's their experience. Not yours.

Ash
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Body business...

The thing is Reader, I am feeling quite large at the moment. And there is a reason for that. The reason is that I AM quite large at the moment. I didn't realise it till I didn't fit into a size 10 earlier today because my boobs almost broke the zip. Thing is, I've been dating this guy who loves food. I already love food, so being with him is like a dream-a ticket to feast, because he'll always eat more than me. The thing is, he is built of pure muscle and does lots of exercise and I am...well...I'm not really built, I'm more sort of casually moulded into a variety of curves.

The issue I have with this is that I do not like my body over a certain weight and that makes me sad. I don't want to not like my body. My body does really lovely things for me, like help me act, do yoga, dance and hopefully one day give birth to a small clan of children. My body is a nice thing. And I haven't always treated my body very nicely in the past; I smoked for four years, then another year. When I drink, I drink heavily. I don't exercise enough, or drink enough water. My poor body doesn't like wheat or dairy and I choose to ignore that fact and eat pizza and cheesy pasta on a regular basis. But my body still troops on. It has lived through asthma attacks, chest infections, ski collisions, being burnt by hot oil on a badly supervised Girl Guide's camping trip and even a scary two weeks where a doctor told me to deal with the fact that I might not be able to have children. Reader, I swore at my body a lot that week. I cried everywhere- bus stops, supermarket toilets, cafes, an ultrasound wing of a hospital and on the train to an audition (the audition didn't go terribly well). I didn't really tell anyone because it seemed like A Very Big Thing. And my heart didn't feel ready to face the reality of discussing A Very Big Thing. I lay in bed next to my partner every night and stared at the ceiling, cursing my body and making deals with greater powers. If my body could have children I'd treat it nicer. I'd go to the dentist more and do volunteer work. I'd buy more copies of the big issue and be nicer to my little brother. And after two weeks of worrying, I was told that there was no sign of cancer, twisted Fallopian tubes or any of the things that had been rattling round my brain since my first appointment. They still don't really know what's wrong with me, but at least I know I have a chance of getting pregnant. I feel terrible for those couple of weeks where I directed such vittrol and spite at my poor womb.

And the thing is, when something like that happens, when you think that your body has failed you in such a drastic way, you suddenly realise how bloody ridiculous getting cross with a few extra pounds is.

Which is why I don't want to be sad that I'm a little heavier than usual. In my lifetime, some amazing people have passed, some of them upsettingly young. Time spent looking in the mirror begrudging your shape is time utterly wasted.

Also, thinking you can't have kids makes you realise how much you want them (or for some people, how little they do-amazing clarity comes from the results of a medical test at times) and how you'd raise them. I never want my child to hear me say 'I'm too fat' or give the impression that being a different shape to the shapes in the magazines is an issue. I don't want him or her to see me frowning in the mirror as I clutch at my rounded hips and generous, Irish thighs, wishing I looked like a different woman entirely. I never want my child to think 'Mummy thinks she's ugly and I look like Mummy-so I must be ugly too'. My body has a history-the hips come from farmer's wives in Ireland carrying kids and baby animals, my strong thighs come from horse riders who travelled across the lands and my soft belly comes from a legacy of women who make incredible mothers, professionals and lovers. Who am I to scorn all that?

So although, yes, I will be eating a little less over the next few weeks and moving quite a bit more, I will not be doing it because I hate my body. I will be doing it because it's a lovely body. And it deserves some tlc.

Reader, give your body a hug today. And remember not to be too mean to it.

Ash
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