Jealousy, envy and discontent: it’s all here

I CAN feel myself getting bitter and I do not like it.

And yet, I can’t seem to halt my descent; I am sliding into a warm, bubbly vat of jealousy, envy and discontent and it is not a pretty place to be.

Why am I becoming a grumpy old troll?


It all started when I read an innocuous article yesterday that somehow got under my skin. It was about (please don’t judge me – actually go right ahead and judge me because this is really quite pathetic) Cody Simpson.

The teenage Gold Coast singer has gone and turned 18, an occasion that has garnered all sorts of internet coverage.

He has what appears to be an incredibly fabulous life. At least, that’s the conclusion I’ve come to after pointlessly cyber-stalking him (and his supermodel girlfriend) on Instagram for the better part of an hour.

In between shots of him playing his guitar in an endless array of flattering poses under muted light, you’ll find him sunning himself on a fancy yacht.

Or boarding a private jet with half a dozen mates, bound for a far-off, exotic island location.

Or jamming at a backyard bonfire next to Miley Cyrus; hanging out on set of a TV sound stage with Courtney Cox; and celebrating his birthday in luxurious style. Never before have I seen a more blatant, unfiltered show of youthful wealth and privilege.

There’s even one pic (quite clearly snapped on a private jet) where he’s covered in a sheath of US dollar bills, which he’s captioned: “Don’t let yourself fall asleep on a plane with @mileycyrus. What have ya done to me?”

Oh, the envy! It’s not that I want to be on a private jet with Miley Cyrus flying to an island for a week-long vacation. But I do crave some excitement, something out of the ordinary. And man, does his life look incredibly fun and exciting!

That’s not to say my life is devoid of highlights – not in the slightest. Just this week, my partner had a birthday party. We went all out. Jumped onto EatNow, ordered a bunch of pizzas online from our local pizza joint and chowed down with the fam. A Viennetta was had for dessert. The night was well enjoyed.

But it’s not quite the VIP room at a hot nightclub in LA with a dozen Hollywood A-listers, is it? Not that I like nightclubs… They’re loud and crowded and there’s no food and the drinks are over-priced.

Oh, great – now I feel both bitter and old.

I am officially my mother.

[signoff icon=”icon-thumbs-up”]The Meddler

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