"I think the time has come now, darling, for you to really think about what you want for once in your life. Not what everybody else wants you to do and what's going to keep everybody else happy. I mean what do you want? Right now in this moment? What do you really, really want? And just do it … It could just be you need a poo… Do you need a poo? Just do it and never delay".
An extract from a inspirational speech delivered by my mother who has recently transformed her outlook on life after discovering motivational videos on YouTube. It's comforting to know that not only does she have my well being at the forefront of her mind but also that my bowel movements are of paramount importance to her.
Yes, this is the woman who once told me my legs looked like tree trunks before a night out, that wouldn't let me dye my hair aged eleven so I could look like my idol Emma Bunton (even though she was fully aware my mousy locks, if not bleached to within an inch of their life could jeopardise my position in the schools tribute band). The same woman that refused to let me go to Brownies with all my friends because it "just isn't you" (she was completely right) and who was so paranoid about health and safety in every aspect of our home life she insisted my brother and I play Pop Up Pirate laying on our fronts, arms fully stretched out, to withdraw the swords from the barrel, incase the pirate shot up and took our eyes out (she'd seen some horror story on Watchdog apparently. Very embarrassing when friends came over to play). Needless to say Buckaroo was entirely out of the question.
Then there was the time she pinned me up against the wall and tried to force feed me raw bacon in front of all of my friends after becoming enraged at my new anorexic phase (I use the term anorexic loosely… I never really fully committed to it as evidenced by snap shots taken from that era) before realising the bacon was raw and returning with some carb loaded white bread.
A woman, so fanatical about cleaning that she once made me and my boyfriend of the time, upon returning from the beach, stand outside the house until the wind had "blown all the sand off us", lest we destroy her freshly vacuumed home. A woman who out of boredom would lie, pretending she was a gifted lyricist and write songs "off the cuff" on long car journeys, only for me to discover about age six that 'Yesterday' and 'Michelle' were written by two kinda famous blokes from Liverpool.
So although she is the first one to embarrass me, to tell me I've gained weight and that my tits are sagging and that I should invest in some hair extensions so I may, one day, hopefully get married, she was and is always there when the chips are down. When I was at rock bottom she fought my corner, spouting readings from one of her many, many self help books. Yes, she's a mum and that's what mums do but I have put her through hell and back and personally I'm shocked she still even likes me let alone loves me.
The teen years weren't too terrible, I was naughty but never bad. Of course she had to collect me from medical rooms at under 18s nights when I was completely off my head aged 14. She suffered me and my cousins getting stoned at a family party, throwing a whitey and spewing all over the back seats of her car, shortly after she'd introduced me for the very first time to a great uncle who I promptly collapsed in front of, before crawling into the men's toilets singing "like a virgin touched by the very first Tom" in a voicemail for a man of that name who I wished to take my virginity (shockingly he did not find this arousing and it was not in the stars that he would pop my cherry), but on the whole I was relatively well behaved and passed my exams with promising results, but then it all went wrong.
I left college prematurely after losing my virginity to a total wankstain. I partied a lot. Boredom followed and I found myself moving to London. I got into the wrong circles, I fell into the wrong relationships… Oh and the cherry on the cake… I decided to pursue an acting career and I've been skint ever since.
Where she once issued Christmas lists at the beginning of November stating she'd like "A Limited Edition Dior Compact, Chanel Allure Perfume, false eyelashes," and for her main present "GHDs" she now gets a book and a card. Does she complain? Never. Does she tell me to rethink my career choices? Nope. She has supported me since, at the age of four I announced I'd one day be in films like Audrey Hepburn and look like Jessica Rabbit.
She's suffered dance competitions, talent shows, terrible fringe theatre, a god awful production staged on our patio with an all female cast that was basically a rip off of 'Grease', however all in attendance would agree they witnessed the birth of a star that day (one member of the cast has gone on to appear in 'Downton'). She still believes whole heartedly I'm going to become the next Marilyn Monroe, she encourages me every day and forced me to believe in myself.
So basically I just want to say thank you. Thank you Mum for lots of things. Thank you for introducing me to Madonna. Thank you for laughing through your divorce and all the other crap, teaching me laughter cures everything. Thank you for forgiving me when I've been a shit. Thanks for not hating me for destroying your vagina and leaving you with stretch marks. Thanks for taking on three jobs so I could have those vulgar dance costumes. Thanks for being proud that I was accepted into Chamber Choir purely to mime because although, as you so often like to remind me, I cannot sing, I was the only one without braces and had good teeth. Thanks for always making me brush my teeth. Thank you for being a fantastic mum and if the day comes for me to destroy my own vagina and get stretch marks I hope to be as good a mum as you. You were right about everything. Love you. X
On a side note I should also thank a few other Mums who make my world – My maternal Grandmother who is possibly the best woman to have walked this earth (after mum), leading a cheerfully nomadic existence – wherever the wind may blow you, all you need is an apple to munch on and you're happy.
My paternal Grandmother who always has chocolate raisins in the house… I don't resent you for contributing to my womanly curves because you're too lovely and you put on a good spread.
My 'Big Sis' Kay who is not only a great friend but now a fantastic Mum too.
And finally my cousin Erica, a bohemian mum with alternative but brilliant parenting skills who also taught me blow job techniques on a Calippo.
Alex Neve is an actress/stand up with big love for pesto, gin and anything that will make her bottom appear smaller and slightly firmer. She can do a forward roll (returning to stand) and once directed Geri Halliwell to the Hermes section in Harrods. Her goal this year is to achieve her childhood dream – successfully cross monkey bars. Her personal best to date is bar two. You can follow her on Twitter @alexneve1
