Jemma Forte's Blog

Consult any ‘how to survive lockdown’ guide and, writing some form of gratitude diary, is often cited as a top tip. That said, I’d like to thank whichever Australian TV Exec decided to make, not eight episodes of Married at First Sight Australia, or twenty-four… but forty. That’s 40 X 90 minutes of Antipodean programming, stripped across the E4 weekday schedule at a time when staying in isn’t the new going out, it’s the new ‘you have no ‘bladdy’ choice’.

It’s been a ratings smash. Based on a Danish format which first aired in 2013, the franchise has become an international hit, airing in twenty-nine countries. The UK version has aired on Channel 4 since 2015 but the Aussie show, for various reasons, is so much better. Plus, it’s on when we don’t have anywhere to go, so watching something which requires a similar level of commitment to actually getting married, is manageable. 

‘I’m just watching it for the panoramic views of Australia,’ said one man I know, in a bid to not seem cerebrally challenged. I didn’t pick him up on this outright lie because the stunning, sun- soaked landscapes are beautifully escapist and do enhance the experience, but actually, so do the cultural differences between us and the Aussies. Cliches are cliches for a reason, so when Mick, a farmer from the outback, says things like ‘heavens to Betsy’ and ‘pig’s arse,’ it’s bound to be amusing. Mick turns up to social occasions dressed in work boots and creased shorts and doesn’t care. Fair dinkum I suppose. I mean, we’ve all had moments when we’ve popped to the newsagents, hung-over, boobs swinging about under our pyjamas because we can’t be arsed to put a bra on, coat over the top, weird ‘they were by the door’ footwear on, looking furtively about, praying we don’t bump into any exes…. I think? Back me up people…

Mick, however, would happily turn up at the opera in this sort of garb and not give a hoot. But then Mick is also astute, decent, dry and highly unlikely to find a mate where he lives. I’d imagine his Tinder settings would have to be set pretty widely to find something living nearby which wasn’t a sheep. And he’s only one character from a cast of very diverse, interesting sorts which has made for compulsive lockdown viewing.

In fact, knowing how much our ‘dear’ leader craves popularity and enjoys making optimistic, ultimately deadly pronouncements, resulting in contagious congas on VE day and macabre front-page headlines such as BORIS BATTLES EXPERTS TO SAVE CHRISTMAS I’m amazed Mr Johnson hasn’t stood at the podium saying, ‘Right, listen up folks, we’re aiming to give you more freedom once this series of MAFS is all tied up, at which point there’ll be a gaping hole in the weekday schedules for many of you. So, no matter what the scientists say, when the last episode has aired, we’ll let you sit on a bench legally, so you can gaze into the distance and question your life choices.’

In the beginning, I only had one friend to gossip about MAFS with on WhatsApp, but now it feels like much of my circle, including those who wouldn’t normally go near reality TV with their more highbrow barge poles, are on board. They’ve either succumbed, acquiesced, been roped into, given up, or possibly just completed Netflix, who knows? Either way, E4 must be feeling pretty smug.

For those of you who haven’t seen the show, the format of the ‘experiment,’ is outlandish as it is simple. Participants are paired with complete strangers based on compatibility criteria that the show’s trio of relationship ‘experts’ – relationship specialists John Aiken and Mel Schilling and clinical neuropsychotherapist, Dr Trisha Stratford – claim is highly scientific, but comes across on screen as quite arbitrary.

‘OK, she’s been very hurt in the past and he’s very patient. They both like swimming, and cheese. Let’s do it!’

Or – and this is an actual scenario which happened but subsequently failed – He’s a twenty-nine-year-old virgin who’s so unsure of everything, he’s reminiscent of Clark Kent landing on Earth, clueless about society and utterly unsullied, possessing the sort of wide-eyed innocence which gives the impression that up until now he’s been living in a tree. She likes an adventurous sex life, is questioning her sexuality and is kind. It’s a match! 

Then, it’s off to a beautiful Aussie location for a wedding (although unlike in other international editions of MAFS, the ceremony isn’t actually legally binding), where the couple meet each other and their families – for the first time.

It’s as intense as that sounds. An alternate title for this show could easily be ‘What the hell are you doing? Are you out of your mind?’ Yet their nerve-wracking trauma is our viewing manna and can be, at times, incredibly touching. Credit to the experts, some of the couple’s clap eyes on each other, in a situation which is less pressure cooker, more vacuum of such adrenaline fuelled stress I think personally I’d collapse, and their faces light up. Shaking with acute nerves, grinning hysterically, they look delighted with their matches, relieved, optimistic. You’d have to be pretty hard of heart not to be touched at the capacity humans have for hope when it comes to finding love.

Then, the happy – or horrified – total strangers, are sent off on honeymoon, to work out why they’ve been matched and whether they’re ready to share a bed with someone they’ve only seen in a white dress before, or to sleep on the couch. The next few months are spent living with their partner as they decide whether they’re ‘the one’ or not, interspersed with dinner parties, home visits and reflection sessions on the couch with the experts. At this ceremony, if one person writes leave but the other opts to stay, they both stay, like some form of exquisite relationship torture.

Pantomime villains aside, it’s not all as hopeless or disastrous as you might imagine, but then arranged marriages have been happening in other cultures for centuries and can have incredibly successful outcomes. Perhaps the whole notion isn’t quite as cuckoo as it first seems?

Part of the show’s success is very zeitgeist. Dating apps are exhausting and involve a lot of filtering. It’s perfectly possible to meet someone great but equally it can be a soul- destroying, dull process to navigate. Perhaps there’s something to be said for putting your life into the hands of matchmakers? It’s natural to wonder who these ‘experts’ would pick out for you and fascinating, from an anthropological point of view, to watch people working one another out.

An ex once said to me, what’s the most important question you can ask someone you want to date. I pondered for a while before stating ‘Have you got a nice willy?’ Apparently, this was both wrong and immature. I tried again. ‘What are your core values?’ This attempt was deemed too corporate, too ‘Mayers Briggsy’. I insisted he revealed his transformational nugget (not his willy).

Turns out, the most telling thing you can ask a potential love interest is ‘how do you argue?’ I was disappointed by the negative nature of this revelation, but once I’d digested it, found myself agreeing. Getting on is one thing, but when the inevitable happens and you disagree or hit a patch, how you deal with it is so important. If one person is a sulker and the other a ‘I need to resolve all conflict before bed type’ can it work? Or, in the case of Nick from MAFS, if you’re a laid-back, thoughtful type but were matched with fiery, no emotional regulation, aggressively shouty Cyrell, was it always destined for failure? The pair were good together… when not fighting, but Cyrell had issues which frankly she needed professional help with. The experts and Nick, were slowly helping her understand this, until Cyrell’s brother, Ivan, pitched up. Or, as I like to call him, Ivan the terrible judge of character and last person anyone in their right mind should go to for counsel.

For some unknown reason, Cyrell trusted Ivan’s opinion, which was a shame because Ivan’s view was that his sister should be allowed to be as dysfunctional as she liked and that if Nick cared about her, rather than challenge her disturbing behaviours, he should be wading in and backing her up, like a proper, caring thug. Cyrell made the mistake of letting her lunatic brother have some alone time with Nick. They went to play basketball in the park at which point Ivan took it upon himself to tell Nick, in no uncertain times, that he wasn’t good enough for his sister, and that actually he was throwing him out.

Next thing we saw was Ivan arriving home, sheepish, and alone. Cyrell wanted to know where her husband was. He announced that he’d thrown him out. This in itself was misleading because Nick hadn’t been in when he’d been thrown out. So now, a despondent, insulted and understandably alarmed Nick, was left sitting on a grassy verge outside the house, wondering how to retrieve his luggage.

Despite really liking Nick, Cyrell left the experiment, managing to look both defiant and totally unsure. Nick also decided to leave. He probably didn’t fancy spending Christmas with Ivan the agony uncle, with the emphasis on agony who proved that blood is thicker than water. If thicker means more stupid.

One of my favourite quotes however was from Bronson, a stoic chap who was paired with the awful Ines.  After yet another week of being treated dismally by someone who appeared to have zero empathy or compassion and was cheating on him, he said, ‘I didn’t come here for happiness, I came here for marriage.’ Maybe you have to be a bit long in the tooth and cynical to find that one funny. I roared.

I like to think MAFS makes us look inwards, to consider our own behaviours within relationships. Are we as mature and decent and respectful as Jules and Cam are to one another? They’re the love story of the series and have fallen hard and beautifully and *spoiler alert* are still together and raising a family.

Do we transfer trauma from previous experiences onto people who don’t deserve it? If this could be you, I’d implore you to take Mark and Ning as a case study and observe.  Ning is a single mum of three and from the beginning, made it clear, that she was damaged by her past and had trust issues. She didn’t see herself as coming with ‘baggage’ (as a single mum myself I’ve always hated that word. My fabulous kids aren’t suitcases and don’t need to be carried by anyone else) but she does come with ‘walls.’ She refers to her ‘walls’ a lot. Like she’s actually lugging them around everywhere she goes. How her walls are ‘up’ is referred to every episode, to the point where I’d like to take a sledgehammer to them. Due to her ‘walls’ she shared a bed with patient Mark for months, but no matter what he had ‘up,’ she only permitted a bit of a snog and light feel of her left boob. If I was Mark, I think I’d have scaled her walls and run off into the night to find someone who made me feel fancied and didn’t tar me with the brush of their psycho ex when I hadn’t done anything wrong myself. But he’s probably nicer than me so has stuck it out. Only the ‘wall’s affliction seems to be catching because Ning has decided he’s welcome to come into her fortress, through the front door. Mark has put his walls up. What a pair of ‘Wallies.’

Martha and Michael are another success story. Martha is a beautiful Greek girl who admits she’s had a lot of facial surgery. I think she looks like Cher. My friend thinks she looks like Louise Thompson from Made in Chelsea (never watched it, wouldn’t know), my daughter thinks she’s very Kendall Jenner. I think this is the point. If you do that much to your face, you end up looking like everyone, except yourself.

Then there’s Jessika, and her lips, which are like a separate cast member. Jessika loves saying how she ‘came for love and for herself’ in a bid to excuse all terrible behaviours, including forcing husband, farmer Mick, to stay in the process week after week so she could ‘get to know’ someone else’s husband. Like all the other contestants, Dan, the object of her desire, is covered in tattoos. They all have them, to the point where if they were ever stuck for small talk at one of the group parties, they could just sit and read each other instead. Jessika described Dan to her friend and confidante, Martha, as a meal not a snack. To be fair he’s so thickset I’d say he’s more of a buffet.

And yet, we’re nearly there. The end of the series and all this easy to digest entertainment and scandal is looming on the horizon, which is horrifying in one way because it feels like I’ve been watching it forever so the fact lockdown is going to outlive it is fairly depressing. But in another, it’s for the best. I’m not sure I can justify spending anymore of my time here on Earth watching other people’s love lives.

My sister must feel the same because she sent me a text last night saying ‘Just watched episode 32 of Married At First Sight’ I literally can’t wait for it to finish now….’

Yes, it’s probably time for us all to do something else………but it has filled a bit (a lot) of lockdown and for that I’m ‘bladdy’ grateful!

It’s World Mental Health Day today so I thought I’d say this. If you have a second please study this picture of some so called ‘women’s magazines.’

Now let’s play a game. It’s called find something positive, affirming and supportive written about any of the women on the covers that isn’t either commenting negatively, passive aggressively or rudely about their weight or private lives. Someone once told me about the following quote by Madeline Allbright, a former US Secretary of State. She said ‘there’s a special place in hell for women who do not help other women.’ It’s fierce but I believe it to be true.

So, how are these headlines, aimed at women, about women. helping any of us as people and/or doing anything good for our mental health? Who cares what size (always beautiful) Nigella Lawson is? She’s a talented cook, not a model. She’s flipping gorgeous anyway. And who the f*** would assume Cheryl Cole was pregnant when her stomach is flatter than mine’s ever been? And hasn’t she just had a baby anyway?

And, as for contemplating having surgery in order to be a size 10 bride post giving birth, or indeed anytime, that isn’t a headline, it’s a serious problem. One which begs the question why aren’t you just eating healthily and exercising and WHO are you marrying who would let you even consider it?

I worry for my daughter and her lovely friends, and anyone else who might be reading and absorbing all this negative, inconsequential crap. So, today on this World Mental Health Day 2017, let’s try to support other women and focus on what they do, how they behave and what they say. Instead of the size of their stomachs, relationship issues or diets. Let’s choose our role models carefully. Because I for one have tried to live up to some of this nonsense in the past and it’s unhealthy and it’s bullshit.

It happens to be my birthday today (less important obv) but a good day to say ‘I’m 44 and my thighs aren’t perfect but I’m a good friend and on my day pretty funny. So there.’

So, let’s celebrate and place value on being kind, fit, healthy, clever, funny, strong, non judgemental, hard working and other beautiful things that all my favourite women and my daughter either already are or are striving to be. And let’s put these rags in the recycling. Peace Out xxx

The post A thought about Magazines on World Mental Health Day appeared first on .

Here’s a piece I wrote for The Express. It’s my top 10 books about love (not necessarily romantic)

The post My top 10 books about love. appeared first on .

Here’s an interview I did for Female First about why I wanted to work for Cosmopolitan, my time as a Disney presenter and the ironing pile – http://www.femalefirst.co.uk/books/when-i-met-you-jemma-forte-583163.html

The post Q & A for Female First appeared first on .

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to put into words how grateful I am to every single person who ventured out on Thursday night to Waterstones in Richmond to help me celebrate the launch of my fourth book ‘When I Met You.’

But given that I’m a writer, perhaps I should at least have a try? Words being what I do an’ all innit bruv.

Firstly, there are the obvious reasons. Wine had been bought, books had been ordered in, I’d been to the hairdressers for a hair ‘do’ (which I’d had a crisis of confidence about because I kept thinking I looked like Roy Orbison). [image error]

It would have been more than a tad awkward to be standing on my own in front of a mountain of books, making small talk with my agent and publisher while trying desperately to pretend the shop wasn’t empty. When the photo below was taken this was essentially the situation. Notice not only how ‘Roy’ the hair is but also how gritted the teeth are. I had arrived early at the book shop with my boyfriend, Ross, and my children and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t occur to me to send them out into the cold to drag total strangers in off the street. At this point the three of made themselves scarce, browsing books, arranging glasses, basically anything to avoid the nervous maniac in the red dress.

But, fear of social embarrassment aside, the more poignant reason I am so grateful to people for coming, or for just posting links to Amazon, on Facebook, or twitter, or for buying/reading the book or just generally being supportive, is this. Writing a book is a wonderful thing. Like anything creative, the whole process is enormously satisfying. I love writing stories, and seeing them appear as actual physical books which people can pick up and read is incredibly rewarding and feels like an achievement. But, let’s face it, it’s a slightly weird thing to do too. Unlike other jobs, there’s no office to go to and no commute (this is actually great, as is the fact you can work in your pants should you feel like it. Often I do.)

Writing a book is a totally solitary activity and for a year or so you spend hours and hours creating en entire world and people who aren’t real but who seem completely real to you. If you hit a problem, or aren’t in the mood, there’s no one to have a natter with over a cuppa in the staff kitchen, no one who can help you solve plot problems as you go along, no one you can gossip about your characters with, who truly understands the contents of your by now distracted mind. In fact, until you have a finished draft of some sort that people can read it’s all just in your head. I think this is why so many writers love twitter. It’s the equivalent of a bit of office goss and a way to meet kindred, book obsessed spirits.

And then, one day, suddenly you do have a finished draft which you duly send to your agent and publisher and this stage is just terrifying really. What if they don’t like it?? Worse still, what if they hate it and all this time you’ve been thinking you’re on to something but you haven’t been at all? You get the gist. In a nutshell you become an annoying insecure wreck.[image error]

But, with a bit of luck they do like it and some months later, after the inevitable edits, you have an actual book and a date on which said book is going to make it’s debut into society. And because you are the book’s mother you are desperate for it to be liked and for it to be popular so that with a bit of luck you can go through the whole bizarre process again. So then you need to tell people about it because these days the shelves are very over crowded and it is increasingly difficult for your publisher to get it into any shops. My last book sold so many more copies as downloads than it did paperbacks and so word of mouth isn’t just important it’s vital.

So what then? Well, it’s down to you to spread the word and so a book launch is arranged and people are duly invited. But of course it’s January, no one’s drinking, the weather is more conducive to huddling under a duvet in a coat than going out. Can you imagine my angst?

And yet, I needn’t have worried because on Thursday there was the most amazing turn out and THAT is why I am so unbelievably grateful and touched and why your support means the world. It was great. People arrived, my heart rate returned to normal and it was a lovely, buzzy, fun night. Sadly I don’t have loads of photos as I was too busy slugging back the wine, chatting to people and ruining perfectly good books by scribbling my awful looking signature in them.

But here are the few I do have on my phone. This is one of my amazing agent, Madeleine Milburn, who said a few words and is such a joy to work with. I love her to bits. She be the best.

This is my brilliant editor, Sally Williamson, who also said some lovely things and who was there along with the rest of the Mira team. Thanks to Alison in particular for all her hard work and efforts in making the launch such a success.

Then this is the moment when I was given some beautiful flowers and when, just for a second, I felt, in a brilliant way, like I had just won a medal for ice skating.

And then it was my turn to speak and I think the following snap truly shows what a shy, retiring wall flower I am ?!

Then, this is my Dad, Michael, who us Forte’s like to refer to as ‘Mickey F’ and who got a special thanks because he was instrumental in helping me come up with the idea for this book. He’s an all round legend.

Sadly I don’t have one of my wonderful Mum who was there with a whole gang of her pals. Neither do I have one of my step-mum, lovely Sally, but they were both there in full wonderful force as were my army of siblings.

And as were loads of you, but like I say I only have a small selection of photos. But here are the ones I do have – here’s the beautiful Charlotte Woodward.

This is the moment my kids, Lily and Freddie, met Dick and Dom and forgave their mum for being a general stress head -

And these are my friends Flash and Matt. Flash is a rock star and lead singer in the band King Lizard. Because of him I have been to my first heavy metal gig and because of me he has been to his first women’s fiction book launch. This pleases me.

And lastly, here is me and Alessia Small, one of my oldest friends who was on top form and who looks bloody brilliant in her hat.

So that is a taste of what was a great night and now my book is out there, vying for attention, trying to make it’s merry way in this big, wide, book filled world. So huge thank you’s to the fab team at Cherish PR, to Sophie at Waterstones, to the amazing bloggers who have read and reviewed the book,to  authors such as Fionnula Kearney who support each other, Clic Sargent for the wonderful work they do, and to all the people who couldn’t make the launch due to life/work/ childcare/illness etc but who have said they will read it and spread the word. You’re all the best.

And here’s the link to When I Met You – a story I am immensely proud of and which I hope you enjoy with all my heart

http://www.amazon.co.uk/When-Met-You-Jemma-Forte/dp/1848453647/ref=sr_1_1_twi_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1421584647&sr=8-1&keywords=when+i+met+you+jemma+forte

Peace out. I’m off to start work on the next one….. Chaaaaaaaapter One

Jemma xxx

The post The launch of When I Met You appeared first on .

As a presenter, from time to time it is necessary to come up with a new showreel. This can be the bane of one’s life as it involves having to source material and select clips and persuade/ bribe someone to edit it. But it has to be done or your hairstyle will be shockingly out of date and no one can tell what you’ve been up to. This is my latest should you fancy a peek.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2oTWzFvOsSI&feature=youtu.be

The post Reeely reely new showreel appeared first on .

If You’re Not the One is coming out Stateside in  June 2015 and they have just sent me the cover design. I wanted to share because I love it. I think it’s fresh, contemporary and mature. Gawd bless America! x

The post American cover for If You’re Not the One appeared first on .

The wonderful Novelicious (a must- see website for anyone interested in reading fiction) asked me to contribute to their regular feature ‘My Writing Room.’ Here’s the link if you fancy a snoop… x  http://www.novelicious.com/

The post The room where I write. appeared first on .

I was on The Wright Stuff today talking about If You’re Not The One, wearing odd outfits on children’s TV, the news and more besides. Here’s the link – http://www.channel5.com/shows/the-wright-stuff/episodes/episode-98-66#comments

The post The day I was a guest on The Wright Stuff appeared first on .

Unless you’ve been in a cave these last few days you will no doubt be aware of the #nomakeupselfie campaign which has exploded on Facebook and so far raised over one million pounds for Breast Cancer Research. That’s over ONE MILLION POUNDS people in little more than 24 hours.

Of course, some areas of the media have chosen to criticize it, to brand it as narcissistic and generally belittle the whole thing entirely. It bewilders me to think we can live in a world that can even contemplate being negative about something which is simply a force for good. Full stop. With so many awful things happening around the globe can we not instead celebrate the good? Can we not take a second to think about what it’s really all about and what is driving so many females to take part. I for one truly believe that if you took everyone’s no make up selfie and lined them up in a huge art gallery, the faces staring back would say so much.

I’ll be honest, before I knew much about it, when I saw the first few pictures of women staring out at me, bare faced, I was initially a bit cynical myself. Was this just an excuse to post yet another selfie, only this time have people comment on how pretty they were without slap? Apparently some were posting pictures but not donating, so what was the point?

But the pictures kept on coming and slowly it dawned upon me what an incredible thing this was. School friends I haven’t seen for years, women I’ve worked with, best mates, there they were, unadorned, staring quite intently down the lens. Some were smiling, some looked embarrassed and self conscious, some were defiant and grim faced. Some of the images were quite shocking. Some really were quite raw. We are so used to seeing our fellow females with their ‘faces’ on that the pictures really do make an impact. But there is also something really beautiful about each and everyone of them. They’re so intimate and it occurred to me then that what I was looking at, these pictures were of faces that only those really close to us ever get to see, husbands, boyfriends, children, our relatives. They’re the only people who see us first thing in the morning or last thing at night. Everyday we get dressed for work, or for the school run, choosing how to present ourselves to the world. It’s a small handful of people who see us tired after a long day, hair tied back, comfy clothes on, make up off.

People were saying that some hadn’t got the point. That people were posting selfies but not donating, but as far as I could see the vast majority of these women had got the point entirely. Post a make up free selfie and text BEAT to 70099 thus donating £3 to the charity who are trying to fight this disgusting, hideous disease which sadly will affect, if it hasn’t already, someone we know, or indeed ourselves.

I decided to do it and in doing so got to experience what everyone else has felt. The nerves! Did I really want to expose myself like this? I don’t think men will ever understand how much we rely on make up. It’s our armour! To me, applying eyeliner and mascara is as much of a part of my routine as putting on shoes or knickers. Without it I feel weird and look a bit like a rat if I’m honest. And it doesn’t just stop there. Foundation, blusher, lippy, they’re all my friends and what’s more they come out with me in the day, stowed into my handbag along with my phone, keys etc. Do I ever leave the house bare faced? Of course I do. Anyone who’s seen me on the school run will attest to that but I don’t feel great. And besides, in reality, I’ve probably got plenty of yesterday’s mascara still clinging on for dear life anyway.

Still, doing it ultimately felt quite empowering (although note that I did not do it in harsh morning light so have not been as brave as some). Was I really so vain that I’d only let people see me looking like the most glamorous version of me, made up and in photos which I have ‘allowed’ to be seen? Only the other week my sister and I were at the Baftas, both doled up to the nines. We spent ages trying to get the best possible photo of ourselves which we could then post on Facebook, to the point where we were laughing our heads off. As we deleted our nine hundredth attempt to both look half decent at the same time, we joked that perhaps next time we should just be done with it and bring a professional photographer with us.

We all do it though! We artfully cultivate how we want to appear on our Facebook and twitter. We present an image of ourselves as funny, busy people, carefully selecting the bits we want people to know about. Which is why this is so cool. Once that had dawned upon me, I was overcome with love and admiration for all the brilliant females who have been brave enough to take part. Brave enough to look down the lens and say, alright this is me, and this cause is so important that I’m prepared to reveal my naked self to everyone, even including any ex boyfriends who might be lurking.

This campaign is an ‘up yours’ not only to cancer but to a world where we are perpetually bombarded with airbrushed, unrealistic images of women who are plastered in make up and look unrealistically beautiful in a wholly unachievable and unnatural way. We instagram, we filter, we crop, airbrush and present images of ourselves which simply aren’t real and in part are an attempt to compete with what we see in the magazines the whole time. Perhaps this campaign will also lead us to question what our idea of beauty really is?

So, to anyone who’s still not convinced I urge you to go back to your Facebook and to really read what women have posted alongside their photos and then hopefully join in. The language is so revealing. Up Yours Cancer. F@#k you Cancer, Let’s BEAT this awful disease. It’s fighting talk. One of my best friend’s mother has had cancer, somebody else’s sister, somebody else’s best friend. These are the girls who look defiant, they are the ones who are particularly aggressive in their language because they know that beating cancer is a very serious battle. A photo then a text. It’s simple.

And it’s not just the girls who are getting involved.  Plenty of men have commented that they love their women make up free and every ‘like’ is a show of encouragement and a bit of reinforcement that actually we haven’t terrified the life out of them.

And for the cynics out there, to the miserable bleeders moaning that their timelines are being ‘cluttered up’ by these pictures, then I say, get a grip. This campaign won’t last forever and then it will be business as usual and we can return to being whimsical and amusing, to promoting ourselves and posting plates of food, stupid videos and edited selfies. In the meantime,who knows what the final figure will be for money raised and, looking at the bigger picture, maybe, just maybe, this is the start of a backlash which is surely on it’s way.  Wouldn’t it be nice just to look like us and know that that’s ok?

The post Why we should all get naked! appeared first on .