Sorry, but I am not sorry.

By  Carolyn Tate


Sorry, but I’m a little bit awesome.

Do you think women spend too much time apologising? Pantene do, so they made this ad. You can watch it, or I can tell you the gist, which is that when women apologise a lot, they seem weak, but when they (wo)man up and act all assertive, their hair looks very shiny.

Are you distracted by the fact that being assertive has eff-all to do with the bounce factor of your hair? Me too. But I do agree women spend a lot of time apologising, so Pantene at least start with a salient point.

There are many things I apologise for on a regular basis. I’m an ordinary driver and map reader, I can’t use a can opener to save my life (although I am handy with a bottle opener and can knock in a wine cork with a teaspoon, thank god), I never know where my keys are, and – try as I might (and I have) – I still can’t tie a cherry stalk with my tongue. Sorry.

But, don’t you think that sometimes women overlook stuff we are actually really fantastic at? And isn’t that a great shame? We undersell ourselves in the interests of not being thought of as an uppity bitch and peeing off all those around us.

I’d like ladies everywhere to share their talents and abilities boldly, without apology – with or without glossy Pantene-coated locks. So I am going to get out there on the record and shout from the rooftops that I am really a very talented individual.

Don’t hate me, okay?

Here goes:

• I can fit 14 unbroken Cheezels in my mouth. Actually, that is the standing record of my house from when I was a teenager. Who knows, with the amount of shouting and sighing I do in my house, my cheeks may have lost some elasticity since having children. Like my boobs.

• I make a really excellent baked cheesecake and I don’t actually eat cake. Being my friend comes with baked-in perks.

• I can chug a pint of beer in 8 seconds. I once beat a Brisbane Bronco in a beer drinking contest.

• My obstetrician says I make the most efficient placentas she’s seen (thinking of putting this one on my business cards).

• On the subject of child-bearing, my aim is excellent. Three kids. Three September births. Bam! (Happy New Year, darling. Triple bam!)

• I remember everything that happened on E-Street, right up to when it jumped the shark with Mr Bad.

• If there was an Intoxicated Olympics in High Heels, I would totally take out the gold medal in the 40-metre uphill dash.

• I know the words to every Prince song – at least up to his ‘Artist Formerly Known As…’ days. He is one freaking little dude.

• When I record TV shows (okay, The Bachelor), I can fast forward the ads on the disk drive and press play at exactly the right time – every time.

• I remember the names of everyone in my classes at primary school – and sometimes their siblings – and I remember the birthdays of every guy I dated for more than two weeks.

This last skill is nothing compared with an ex-colleague of mine who was particularly great with numbers. Her special skill was being able to recall the birthday of every Young Talent Team member. But she hated it when I brought that up in front of others. Clearly she didn’t want anyone to feel threatened by her amazingness either.

We’ve all got those skills that make us interesting and amazing, so let’s stop apologising for tiny little things, and instead crow about our achievements.

What are you great at?

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Carolyn Tate writes at Champagne Cartel, where she bangs on about the importance of taking time out for yourself in your crazy, chaotic life.

You can take time out for yourself by visiting Champagne Cartel, enjoy daily ramblings and brainfarts on Facebook, or play along with #ChampagneMoments by sharing your ‘me time’ with @champagnecartel on Instagram.