People stare at Natalia. She is stunningly beautiful, elegant, and with a figure that a movie star would die for. Now we're strolling down Old Bond Street in London. She pauses at a jewellery shop and stares in the window. With an exquisitely manicured finger, she points to a diamond encrusted wristwatch. This is not my normal life. It all started a few weeks earlier when I heard that Britain is under siege from a monstrous regiment of Russian temptresses - arriving here on the billionaire coat tails of Roman Abramovich and his fabulously. There's plenty of talk around the place about Rapacious Russians and Slavic Sirens stalking our streets in search of men - and men with money, at that. If they exist, they are a glittering army of clever, glamorous, ambitious, sophisticated vamps, descending, locust-like on London, the world's leading financial centre, in a mad search for merchant bankers, commodity traders and City bonus - pocketers.
I wanted to contrast how different parenting is today from how parenting was back in the 70s and 80s. All our parents should be in jail. Seriously— How the hell are we all alive and well today???
I crawled out of bed, still wearing my Cracker Barrel uniform from the night before and managed to make my way over to the coffee machine. I grabbed my pumpkin spiced coffee, walked over to the couch, and opened his laptop. It was like the television was somehow warning me. My whole body went numb. My thoughts began to race. Who is this naked girl on the screen? She looks a lot like me. Wait, wait, wait…that is me. I had never felt more betrayed, confused, and heartbroken in all my 25 years of living. What the heck.