Shame, Shame, Shame
Alcohol, ambition, and giving our power away
It’s a weekday in Autumn, 2008, and the world — my world — is ending.
I am wearing my Shame Trousers. Walking pyjamas. Mystery bottoms. I acquired them a few months ago, in time for festival season. Then, they were loose, slouchy, sitting below my belly button. Now, they are slightly less spacious. There’s a spare inch between my body and the waistband…