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It’s only right that when you’ve got great hair, a gorgeous boyfriend and not a care in the world, you should give a little something back. Using her street smarts, her womanly intuition and a whole lot of Googling, Fenella Bond has opened her heart (and her inbox) to the humdrum disasters of regular people’s sad little lives.
Here's the first edition of Jersey's favourite socialite's foray into agony aunt-ing...
Dear Fenella,
My husband and I have been married for 45 years and I’m starting to feel like a piece of furniture in my own home - and not even a sexy piece of furniture like a sleek chaise longue or anything, more like a tired, old armchair that could do with an upholster. We’re still very much in love, it’s just that I express my love by, say, cooking him his favourite meal, and he expresses it by, well, sitting on his arse and watching golf all weekend without saying so much as a word to me. Perhaps I’m being overdramatic...
We used to be such a power couple in our youth, and I read your lovely columns as a kind of escape back to a time when I felt beautiful and assertive like you and your gaggle of gal pals are. I can’t remember the last time that he paid me a compliment and I’m starting to worry that there’s something wrong with me. I don’t want to leave him, but is there anything that I can do to rekindle the magic?
Thanks so much in advance for helping me,
Lukewarm in St. Lawrence.
Hey girl,
First of all: we’ve never met, but I would like to personally begin by saying that you are the sexiest damn chaise longue that I have ever had the pleasure of beholding. Don’t let anyone – not your husband, not your friends and certainly NOT your own self – make you feel like you are anything less than EXCEPTIONAL, KIND AND GORGEOUS IN AND OUT.
Now, you might not know this, and I’m certain you had no idea when you wrote to me, but I sort of have a gift for reading people’s auras, and I can tell you for sure that you are one good egg. I am seeing lots of purples and turquoises in your energy which tells me that you are a very giving and outgoing person who definitely would hate to spend their weekends watching golf (I mean, you are straight in my good books for that, babe).
We’ll come to your marriage in a moment, but I couldn’t help but notice some seriously toxic vibes emanating from your letter, specifically within the language you are using to describe yourself. Let’s list them:
Take a good long look at those words, my darling, and tell me what you see (aside from a slightly clumsy furniture metaphor) ... that’s right! Oodles and oodles of negativity. If you don’t see yourself as desirable, as someone who deserves to be cherished and complimented then how do you expect someone else to recognise that in you? Dr. Fenella is prescribing a healthy dose of SELF-LOVE. I want you to look at yourself in the mirror every morning and repeat the following mantra:
“I am worthy of love, respect and empowerment. I will be more like Fenella. I will embody Fenella’s confidence; her inner and outer beauty, and I will show up every day for myself.”
Negativity can become such a huge obstacle in our lives and this is an issue that I really dig into in my new book ‘Split ends: how haircuts can and do change your life’ (out now in all good garages and businesses that my friends own, for just £19.99). Overall, it’s always the best policy to treat every human being with kindness and compassion. Now, to the lazy, ungrateful, unworthy elephant in the room: your husband. The thing I simply cannot handle is the AUDACITY of the man.
Who died and made him King of the Slobs? He really expects you to toil away at the stove making him his favourite dinner?! What year is this?? He should be kissing the ground you walk on for letting him so much as mention the word ‘golf’ under your roof.
Pictured: "My advice? Catch him off guard. Cook yourself a delightful meal for one and enjoy it with a glass of red."
My advice? Catch him off guard. Cook yourself a delightful meal for one and enjoy it with a glass of red. Invest in one of those lovely shelves with a wine holder which go across the bathtub and be one of THOSE WOMEN. Meanwhile, he’s been so hypnotised by the sweater vests on TV that he only realises he hasn’t eaten when it’s gone 21:00. He’ll frantically call up to you wondering what could possibly have gone wrong to prevent you from cooking his dinner as usual, but you can’t hear his cries over the sudsy bubbles and the blasting sassiness of your fave Beyoncé album. He won’t know what to do. And it will be so, so sweet.
In all my years of love troubles, heartbreak and eventually romance, I’ve learned the hard way that if you want to keep a man you’ve got to toy with him emotionally and psychologically. It’s the only way, my dear: just lean into it. He’s got to learn that he can’t rely on you for basic survival skills and you’ve got to start giving yourself some space to find out who you are and what you want.
Are you contented as a worn-out old armchair or do you want to be a curvy, velveteen chaise longue that everybody wants languish on? It’s up to you, girl.
Loads of love and fairy dust,
Your young, hot, favourite Auntie Fenella xxx
