the heck 

does someone become 

a middle aged, bayalaged, 

“mum” locket wearing, gradual spray 

tanned, infinity ring blinged, 

north shore soccer 

mum. Like 


that a 

life decision. Or 

is there a manual. 

For all troglodyte women to 

just return to the 

pink rock salt 

suburbs once 


say “I do”. 

The women lean

in and whisper behind 

cupped hand, then throw their 

heads back in laughter. 

It’s ludicrous. Does 

little Timmy 


his mum 

is a carbon 

copy of every other 



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