Honestly, shopping beats therapy, anytime. It costs the same and you get a dress out of it.

I hurl the glass teapot to the ground. we both stare at it, stunned. "it was supposed to break," I explain after a pause, " and that was going to signify that yes, I would throw something away . If I knew it wasn't right for me.

Becky! Love!" Mum has pushed her way through her dancing guests to reach me. "What's wrong? Has labor started?" Honestly. My family has no idea about contemporary urban street dance trends.

I had fun. That’s what I believe in. Fun, flings, the sizzle. It starts as a shiver, when you see a man for the first time. And then he meets your eye and the shiver runs down your back and becomes a sizzle in your stomach and you think 'I want to dance with that man.' You dance, you have a cocktail or two, you flirt.

The worst thing a girl can do is trail after a boy when a love affair is dead.

There are some things I don't understand about Jess and never will. No wedding dress. No flowers. No photo album. No champagne. The only thing she got out of her wedding was a husband. (I mean, obviously the husband is the main point when you get married. Absolutely. That goes without saying. But still, not even a new pair of shoes?)

Visiting any shop for the first time is exciting. There's always that buzz as you push open the door; that hope; that belief - that this is going to be the shop of all shops, which will bring you everything you ever wanted, at magically low prices.