not bothered

To all the school beautifully-manicured, bored-shitless, bitchy-as-you-like yummy mummies

I'm not bothered by your blank expressions when you ask me whether 'everything is better now' and I say 'no'.

I'm not bothered by your 'my child is better than your child' small talk because I know it to be a lie and even if it were true, I wouldn't be bothered. Children aren't possessions to be compared at the school gate you fools.

I'm not bothered that you shop in Boden and The White Stuff and Jigsaw and wear matching boots over skinny jeans over a body that you work out much too much because your face has had it. I'm not bothered that you'd rather be a size 6 than be pretty.

I'm not bothered that you think I'm fat.

I'm not bothered that you talk about me behind my back.

I'm not bothered that you are bothered by how bright and sparky and successful my children are because you'd love it if they weren't; then it would give you more to gossip about.

I'm not bothered that I can't, won't ever, and have no wish to drive a fucking 4 by 4. In . A. City. Or anywhere else.

I'm not bothered that your uber-husbands are rich, successful and (occasionally) vaguely handsome; they're probably sleeping with their secretaries behind your stupid backs.

I'm not bothered if you pity / laugh at / despise / pour scorn on / even like  me. I'm just not bothered.

Think what you like. Say what you like. I used to care, I really used to care, but now, I just don't.