logo
Baby Princess Lilibet was the spitting image of her mother Meghan Markle at the same age - as seen in shot Duchess used for her last ever Father's Day tribute to estranged dad

Baby Princess Lilibet was the spitting image of her mother Meghan Markle at the same age - as seen in shot Duchess used for her last ever Father's Day tribute to estranged dad

Daily Mail​5 hours ago

A photo shared by Meghan Markle of her daughter Princess Lilibet as a baby bears a striking resemblance to one of herself at the same age.
Over the weekend, the Duchess of Sussex shared a sweet Father's Day tribute to her husband Prince Harry, featuring numerous snapshots of their children Prince Archie, six, and Lili, four.
The post made for the most intimate glimpse into their family life in Montecito, California yet - as Meghan shared a rare look at her children's faces.
In one clip, a baby Lilibet could be seen laying on Prince Harry's chest while fast asleep, wearing a tiny knitted hat and swaddled in a blanket.
As the newborn slept, Harry could be seen gently stroking her tiny hand, in footage filmed by Meghan.
The rare glimpse at Lili's face - previously shown in the Sussexes's bombshell Netflix documentary in 2022 - made for a striking resemblance to an old image of Meghan at the same age.
In 2016, Meghan had shared a rare image of herself as a baby in her final Father's Day tribute to her dad, Thomas Markle, from whom she is now estranged.
In the image, Meghan looked almost identical to her daughter, and also lay sweetly on Thomas's chest.
She had shared the post to her original Instagram account, which she later deleted upon joining the royal family following her wedding to Harry in 2018.
In what makes for another parallel, Meghan had penned a thoughtful caption to her father - in her last ever Father's Day post before their fallout.
She wrote: 'Happy Father's Day, daddy. I'm still your buckaroo, and to this day your hugs are the very best in the whole wide world.
'Thanks for my work ethic, my love of Busby Berkeley films and club sandwiches, for teaching me the importance of handwritten thank you notes, and for giving me that signature Markle nose. I love you xo - Bean.'
Fans were quick to note how similar Lili looked to both her parents, with one Reddit user gushing previously: 'They look like copy/paste! They are just adorable!'
Lilibet and Archie have long been compared to their father Prince Harry, and share his distinctive red hair.
In a previous Father's Day post which she shared on her now defunct lifestyle blog The Tig in 2014, Meghan shared further happy memories from time spent with her father.
She recalled a class quiz from her 7th grade English class, asking her to check her ethnicity by checking a box.
Meghan said the options read as follows: 'White. Black. Hispanic. Asian/Pacific Islander'.
She wrote: 'It was some sort of mandatory census that had to be completed before an exam, and there I was (my curly hair, my freckled face, my pale skin, my mixed race) looking down at those boxes, not wanting to mess up, but not knowing what to do. Not knowing which box I fit into.'
After telling her father what had happened - and after being told by a teacher to just 'choose one' - she was told words 'that will stay with me forever'.
Meghan said Thomas had advised her to 'draw your own box', reflecting that it was 'one of those parenting moments that no guidebook could ever prep you for'.
She told another anecdote, where her father had taken apart two Barbie doll sets, as you 'could only buy a white Barbie or a black one', and made a 'custom' one to bring home instead.
In the gushing tribute, Meghan recalled how her father had even helped her to turn the bathroom into a darkroom when she was 12 and hoped to become a photographer.
'And that, right there, is the point: my dad taught me to find my light. And he taught me to always make my own box,' she said.
She wrote: 'To my dad - my thoughtful, inspiring, hardworking Daddy - Happy Father's Day. "If I had all the water in the world, I'd give all the water to you... (You won't get that quote, but he will, And for Father's Day, that's all that matters).'
Thomas Markle has been estranged from his daughter ever since he didn't attend her May 2018 wedding to Harry.
According to an interview with the Mail in March, she was said to have accused him of failing to get into a car she sent for him – even though he was in hospital at the time after suffering two heart attacks on the eve of the wedding.
In the same interview, he even gave a withering verdict of her show With Love, Meghan, admitting that though he had not yet watched the whole thing, he believed his daughter was 'trying so hard to stay in the limelight' after viewing a 'ton of clips' online.
Mr Markle said he last saw his daughter in person over a Thanksgiving meal in 2017 when Meghan was engaged to Prince Harry.
The picture of baby Lili being cuddled by Meghan was also shown in the Sussexes' bombshell Netflix documentary, released in December 2022.
The full video showed Lili lying on Prince Harry's chest fast asleep as he stroked her face, wearing a tiny knitted hat and swaddled in a blanket.
When she began crying, Meghan was quick to reassure her in hushed tones, saying: 'It's okay, it's okay. Here we go. You ready to eat? Let's have some milk. Hi Lili.'
Meghan has since rejoined Instagram, launching her new account @meghan early in the new year - ahead of projects including her Netflix cookery series, Confessions Of A Female Founder podcast and As Ever lifestyle products.
She captioned her clip in tribute to Harry, which was accompanied by Jason Mraz's Have It All playing in the background, 'The best. Happy Father's Day to our favourite guy.'
Meghan followed the clip with a photograph of Harry and Lilibet walking barefoot through sun-drenched sand as they held each other's hands.
Meghan didn't refrain from sharing private moments from what appears to be inside their Montecito-based home either, and added a clip of Harry dancing around their kitchen with little Archie in his hands.
Seconds later, another clip came of Archie sat in a car seat while spreading bubbles from a Mickey Mouse toy.
The Sussex children are fans of all things Disney, as revealed through their recent trip to Disneyland.
Next in the Instagram post, the As Ever founder once again shared a clip of Harry and Lilibet spending quality time together at the beach, but this time the father-daughter duo played at the shore.
Enjoying Californian nature appears to be a big part of Harry's life abroad, and the next clip showed him basking in the sunlight while playing with Lilibet when she was just a few months old.
Meghan then moved onto a clip of Archie climbing into a bus before adding another moment of Harry cuddling a young Lilibet while she donned a pair of pink protective headphones.
She then moved to a more recent clip of Harry taking Archie to horse stables, an activity also loved by his late grandmother, Queen Elizabeth II. In the sweet clip, Harry and his young son laughed as they fed a carrot to a horse.
Harry was back in nature in the next clip, but this time holding his son as they admired a flowing waterfall. Dressed in denim shorts and white t-shirt, the father-of-two playfully dipped his son towards the water before pulling him away.
Harry appears to be every inch the doting father - and in another video, he snuggled his children while sat on a swing
Archie and Lilibet sprinted across golden sands as their parents walked behind in another clip shared on Sunday
Next, Meghan added a clip of Harry spending quality time with both of his children as they snuggled while on a swing.
Then came an adorable clip of Harry and Archie in stitches while enjoying a bedtime story.
The father and son sat on a sofa in presumably Archie's bedroom, which featured mocha-coloured walls with three art prints in white frames.
Harry was back enjoying nature with Lilibet in the next clip. The father crouched down as he showed his excited daughter, who was dressed in jeans and a cute bobble hat, the animals at a petting zoo.
The father-of-two put on a casual display in a blue polo shirt and New Balance trainers as he enjoyed the day out with his youngest child.
In the next clip, Lilibet had ditched her blue jeans for a cute pink princess dress. She styled her flowing hair into ringlets and enjoyed a stroll outside while eating an apple.
Then came a clip of the family enjoying time at a stunning, secluded beach, during a holiday.
In April, People Magazine reported that Harry and Meghan whisked their children away on a family holiday.
Meghan celebrated her recent business ventures, including her Netflix cookery show, launch of her As Ever products, and recent podcast - with a family trip away, which may have been the one that featured in the clip.
Meghan shared footage of her husband enjoying a stroll along the beach with his family while on holiday
The mother-of-two concluded her Instagram post by showing her family celebrating Father's Day on Sunday
The post marks a major shift from Meghan's previous stance of sharing footage of her children online.
In April, The Sun's Royal Editor, Matt Wilkinson, claimed that Prince Harry and Meghan Markle have very different views when it comes to sharing photographs of their children with the public during Hello! magazine's Right Royal podcast.
Also appearing on the episode were the podcast hosts Emmy Griffiths and Andrea Caamano, as well as HELLO!'s royal editor, Emily Nash.
Speaking during the podcast, Wilkinson shared his thoughts that Harry might not be overjoyed at the thought of having his children's faces display on social media.
'My understanding of this is that, up to a certain stage, Harry would much rather his children were not seen,' Wilkinson said.
He added, 'Whereas Meghan grew up in California, she once said she would like to have a more California style lifestyle, take them down the beach, go out, do stuff.'
The Sun's Royal Editor added regarding Meghan's perspective on sharing her children online, 'She doesn't want to hide them away.'

Orange background

Try Our AI Features

Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:

Comments

No comments yet...

Related Articles

Sister Wives star Janelle Brown clears the air about her sexuality and reveals what she's looking for in a man
Sister Wives star Janelle Brown clears the air about her sexuality and reveals what she's looking for in a man

Daily Mail​

timean hour ago

  • Daily Mail​

Sister Wives star Janelle Brown clears the air about her sexuality and reveals what she's looking for in a man

TLC's Sister Wives brought their 19th season to a close on Sunday with the fourth and final installment of their One-on-One special, where Janelle Brown opened up about her sexuality. Janelle, 56, was the the second to marry Kody Brown in 1993, following Meri tying the knot in 1990, and she was also the second to leave him in 2023, after Christine left in 2021. While only one of the Sister Wives remain we d to Kody - Robyn, who tied the knot in 2010 - they are all still a part of the show, though this year's "reunion" was instead a series of one-on-one interviews with Sukanya Krishnan. Janelle used part of her time to clear up speculation that she is 'asexual,' which she assured viewers is not the case. 'I promise you, I'm not asexual. Everybody has this idea just because I didn't want to have assembly line kisses with Kody or whatever, that I was asexual,' Janelle said. 'And the hormones are hell when you're single. But, you know, it's like, you just deal with it or whatever,' she added. 'I suspect that someday down the road, if there's somebody else, then that will be part of it,' she added. She added of the rumors, 'It's so wild to me that everybody has assumed. So, just trust that I am not. I am very... I'm a very sexual being. I'm a very Earth mama.' When asked if she would be part of a polygamous relationship again, Janelle added, 'I'm not gonna say no, but I just don't foresee that I'm gonna meet very many people who live plural marriage these days.' When asked if she would be open to a monogamous relationship, she said, 'Maybe, but I'm definitely not gonna be dating on those weird apps.' Host Sukanya Krishnan asked Janelle to describe the kind of man she is looking for, as she responded, 'Someone who's very solid, who knows who they are.' She added that she doesn't want someone who is, 'super flashy,' adding, 'I'm kind of done with flashy.' Janelle welcomed six children with Kody - Hunter, Madison, Logan, Gabriel, Savanah and the late Garrison, adding she has had an interesting experience watching her daughters with their husbands. 'You know, it's interesting. I watch my children, our children with their husbands, and I'm like, "Wow, that's a really different experience,"' she said. 'I suspect that someday down the road, if there's somebody else, then that will be part of it,' she added. 'They're very engaged with each other and so, I don't know, I guess I'm just like, "Huh, maybe I want something a little bit more like that,' she admitted. Krishnan said near the end of the special that it was her hope that they could get everybody on a couch together at some point. 'Yeah, maybe. I'd really like that. I actually... that could happen. That'd be very interesting,' she said.

Horse racing and erotica: How I survived the fickle world of freelance writing
Horse racing and erotica: How I survived the fickle world of freelance writing

The Guardian

timean hour ago

  • The Guardian

Horse racing and erotica: How I survived the fickle world of freelance writing

When people ask what I do for a living, I'm faced with two choices: either I can lie or I can bore them with the truth, which is too complicated to explain succinctly. While those around me have normal, definable jobs – accountant, journalist, engineer – my work requires headings and subheadings to get it across properly: a map of overlapping gigs and contracts. 'What do you do?' It's a simple question, and one that often gets asked on first dates. No matter how much I pare down my reply, it's always long-winded. 'Well, I'm a freelancer,' I start, 'so I have a million little jobs …' The first of my million little jobs is what I call 'Horse News'. It works like this: every weekday morning I wake up at 6am and make my way to my desk, stumbling and still half asleep. I flick on an old lamp and wince as my eyes adjust to the light. I turn on my computer and use a piece of software that shows me all of the American horse-racing-related news from the past 24 hours. It pulls up radio clips, Fox News segments and articles from publications called BloodHorse or Daily Racing Form – anything that could be relevant to my interests. I sift through countless story summaries, many of which sound fake. 'Army Wife defeats Crazy Beautiful Woman in race!' 'Another doping scandal emerges in Northern California!' 'A disgraced-but-very-good trainer is no longer banned from the track!' 'A famous YouTuber has invested millions into a betting app!' I compile the important stuff into a newsletter: stories about track renovations, big events, the series of horse laws that were passed, then repealed, then approved again in 2023. This is a real thing. These laws (known as the Horseracing Integrity and Safety Act) are meant to keep racehorses and jockeys safer. Tracks are required to provide on-site vets and doctors and to follow standardised safety protocols. But it is much cheaper, it turns out, to ignore the laws and have the horses race in dangerous conditions. Vets and safety gear are expensive, which is upsetting to the billionaires who own the racetracks. And so certain states have fought these laws, calling them unconstitutional. I have followed along, every step of the way. When the newsletter is finished, I send it to my client, a company that owns race tracks across the US. Though, to be clear, I don't work for them directly. I work for a reputation management firm. This company's entire purpose is to monitor the news for other companies, keeping tabs on what the public is saying about their clients and the major trends in those industries. I didn't know this was a real job until I started doing it. I got this job the way I've gotten most of my jobs: through an acquaintance who heard I was looking for work. This is key to success in freelancing. You just need to build a roster of industry connections who know how desperate you are. 'It's just an hour per morning,' she told me. 'Usually less.' 'Sure,' I said, still not understanding what I was agreeing to. 'I'll do it.' The reputation management firm has a slew of different clients, each of whom want a customised newsletter about their industry. There's a fast food chain, a brewery, an environmental organisation. But I was assigned to the horse-racing client. And so I keep up with the Horse News and the Horse Laws. By 7.30am, the report is done and I go back to bed. The Horse News makes me feel like a bad person sometimes. Racing is an odd, archaic and often cruel sport. The more I read about it, the more convinced I become that it should not exist. I root for the Horse Laws, and grow sad when a state bucks against them. The thing about Horse News, though, is that someone has to compile it. It might as well be me. I got the offer to do Horse News not long after I moved to Montreal, at a time when I needed work more than ever. I was 24 and a full-time adult now, tasked with the question of how I planned to fill my time and make a living. A year and a half earlier, when I'd finished my undergraduate studies in English and creative writing, I had immediately enrolled in another creative writing programme. I wish I could say this was entirely because I was devoted to my craft or that it was my life's dream to write a book, but that's only a small part of the truth. The main reason I joined a master's programme was because I didn't want to face what life would look like once I was no longer a student. As I got closer to finishing my undergrad, I kept getting asked what came next. For years, the question of what I was going to do when I grew up had been answered the same way: I'm going to be a writer. This was an answer that adults found cute when I was a child, and concerning as I got older. A writer, they echoed, mulling the word over slowly. Interesting. By the time I got to university, it was an answer that felt downright unacceptable. Sharing dreams about writing for a living elicited looks of mingled confusion and pity. A writer? I understood that being a writer was fraught. I understood that it was a hard way to make a living. There were no jobs in the industry, and books didn't sell for as much as they used to. And so, the question of what I wanted to do after graduating was one that made me physically sick, because I didn't know what being a writer meant either. I decided the solution was grad school. If anyone dared to ask me what I was doing after that, I could shrug and tell them I had a few more years to think about it. My plan worked for a year, though not exactly as expected. First, the pandemic hit and I moved to Nova Scotia with my now ex-girlfriend. Then, I became disabled. I developed a nerve condition that became chronic. Pain had spread through my neck, my arms, my hands. When it first started, I couldn't type at all. I had to readjust every aspect of my life: how I cooked, how I brushed my teeth – and how I worked. By the second year of the programme, I had moved to Toronto, but I was still struggling with voice-to-text and barely able to keep up with basic assignments. The thought of writing a thesis – an entire book – felt impossible. I was also writing freelance articles on the side to help pay my rent and I simply couldn't do both, mentally or physically. Forced to choose between work and school, I chose work. So I took medical leave, saying I would return in a year but unsure if I actually would. Leaving school meant I had to face the question of who I was, if I wasn't a student, much earlier than anticipated. Without a schedule filled with classes to attend and readings to do, I was just a person with an empty calendar and one and a half arts degrees. 'What're you going to do now?' a friend asked over beers at a Mexican restaurant in downtown Toronto. I dragged a chip through guacamole. 'I don't know, to be honest. I mean, I'll work, obviously.' 'I'm sure you could get an office job somewhere,' she said. 'Or go back to being a barista, maybe.' People kept suggesting jobs to me like this. Why don't you just become a barista? A cashier? A secretary? Every time, it was a sharp reminder of how little they understood my physical limitations. I'm too disabled for that, I wanted to say. I held my tongue, but it was true. My pain was so crippling at this point that I struggled to perform basic tasks around the house. I knew I was no longer able to do most of the jobs I'd had in high school or when I was an undergrad: I couldn't work as a barista, my forearms too weak to tamp down espresso grounds, nor in retail nor as a waitress, as the weight from my own dinner plate at home was enough to make me wince with pain. As I scrolled through job postings for office work, I knew a nine-to-five wasn't feasible either. I needed the kind of flexibility a job like that wouldn't allow: the ability to take long breaks when I was in too much pain, to shift deadlines, to use tedious and time-consuming adaptive technology. Back then, I was in so much pain I could barely use a mouse, commanding my entire computer with my voice. Open Google Chrome. New tab. Copy that. Paste that. In addition to being annoying in an office setting, it just wasn't fast enough. 'I think I'll just write,' I told my friend. 'Like I've been doing, but full-time.' She blinked at me. 'Will that be enough?' I understood the question. I'd enjoyed the freelance writing I'd done, mostly penning articles about health and pop culture for Canadian outlets and the odd American one. It paid poorly and inconsistently. For a long time, I'd thought of this freelance work as a stepping stone to a real job as a writer or an editor, with a salary and benefits. Now, it seemed like going all-in on freelancing was my only real career option. It was the only way, I thought, that I could truly work on my own schedule and tend to my needs without falling short of employer expectations. 'I'll manage. It'll work out, I'm sure of it.' I'd never been less sure of anything. In the weeks that followed I launched myself into freelancing, pitching an endless stream of articles and essays to my editors. I was lucky to have a few people who championed my work and encouraged me to send them my ideas. I'd never met any of them in person, which was strange: they felt fake to me, just email addresses that provided me with opportunities and pay cheques. There had been even more, in the past – editors I'd worked with and felt comfortable contacting – but many had faded away, either leaving the industry or simply starting to ignore my emails. As I started writing more freelance pieces, I was, in a way, living the life I'd always wanted. I was a writer. It was my actual job. I balanced deadlines, rotating between articles and editors. I sent out more and more pitches. I worked late into the night, fuelled by instant coffee and bad music. It wasn't enough. The number of pitches I was landing couldn't comfortably sustain me. And it often took ages for me to get paid for my work. A fully written article might be put on hold – it would sit and collect virtual dust, and I wouldn't be paid until it was published. I knew I needed more consistent work. I longed for some sort of pay cheque I could rely on month to month. My savings dwindled as I paid for rent, pricey physiotherapy appointments and adaptive tools. I moved to Montreal, where the cost of living was cheaper, but I still struggled to get by. This was when Horse News entered my life. As I settled into my new city, I was shown the ropes of this strange job: how to use the monitoring software, how to identify stories worth including in the newsletter, who the big players in Horse World were. I was promised hourly pay, with a lump sum deposited into my account at the end of each month. And I suddenly became aware of the possibility of odd jobs that were writing-adjacent – the kind of unglamorous work that would pay the bills while allowing me to keep writing on my own schedule. In the coming months, other odd jobs entered and exited my roster. I wrote Instagram captions for a hospital foundation. I wrote online content for a bank (which always paid me late and said it was because they couldn't figure out how to transfer the money, which made me grateful it was not my bank). Importantly, I wrote a column where I recapped episodes of The Bachelorette. I was constantly writing some odd article for a different publication. Throughout all of this, Horse News was the only stable work I had. Every weekday, without fail, the horses raced on and I compiled my newsletter. As new opportunities presented themselves, I found myself unable to say no to work. No matter how busy I was or how strange the job was, I accepted every single offer that came my way, worried the gigs would eventually dry up. In early summer, as Montreal's unbearably cold season gave way to an unbearably hot one, I got a text from a friend. She worked at a major Canadian newspaper – which, she said, wasn't paying her enough. She'd taken on a side gig to compensate for the poor salary. She'd heard I was looking for work, and thought I might be interested. 'What is it?' I texted. 'Writing erotica,' she answered. The next week, I had a Zoom meeting with someone who worked at the company. She was young, in her late 20s, with pink cheeks and glossy blond hair. She explained that she needed writers for an app she was running that was like a choose-your-own-adventure story, only hornier. Users, mostly women, would select a story and start reading. They were all written in the second person, placing users in the protagonist's shoes: You walk into a restaurant … You see a hot guy sitting at the bar … What will you do next? They were then presented with two choices. One would be boring (ignore the guy!), and the other would be depraved (ask him to go back to your place and [redacted]!). Choosing depravity cost $0.99. These stories were long, most of them basically novels. New chapters came out every week, each instalment getting increasingly risque. This was a business strategy: users became invested in a story, and were then charged money to read the new material. 'Do you think you'd be able to keep up with it?' 'I think so.' I agreed to write one or two chapters per week. Each would be about 4,000 words long and the story would ultimately have at least 20 chapters. I would get paid US$120 for each chapter. If I had worked this out or thought about this critically, I'd have realised this was a very bad idea. It was a monumental amount of work and creative energy to expend for pretty poor pay, especially as someone who couldn't type very much. Unfortunately, I was distracted by how fun the work sounded. Like many young women who grew up with the internet, I had lived through the days of reading whatever perverted and poorly written erotica I could find about my favourite fictional characters. The prospect of now becoming a professional erotica writer was too enticing to turn down. Plus, if my friend was balancing full-time newspaper work with this, how hard could it be? The woman who would become my editor nodded. 'The categories that perform best right now are domination, stepbrother and campus stuff. You know, student-teacher situations?' She looked through a printout of figures and nodded. 'Vampire and werewolf stories are making a resurgence, too.' I jotted this down in a notebook, my handwriting messy and quick. Campus, werewolf, domination. 'Got it.' 'By the way, the app store won't let us use the words penis, vagina or cock,' she said flatly. 'Oh,' I said. 'Why not?' 'Terms of service stuff.' 'Got it.' 'Read a few of the stories for inspiration on how to work around this. You'll get the hang of it.' 'Right.' 'People get really creative. Fruit works, sometimes.' 'Fruit?' 'You'll see what I mean,' she said. 'And you'll need a pen name. Unless you want to use your own?' I shook my head. 'I'll find a pen name.' That afternoon, I sat on my friends' balcony. I told them about my new job, which would somehow slot in alongside all the other jobs I was doing. It was one of the first truly warm days of summer, and we were determined to spend the entire thing outside. Between sips of iced coffee, we plotted out my story chapter by chapter, my friends enthusiastic about its trajectory. 'Maybe she can hook up with her roommate?' I suggested. 'Yes, that's great,' John said. 'Make it a love triangle.' He dragged a finger through the air, drawing a triangle. 'I can't believe you're writing porn,' Maria said, leaning back in a wooden folding chair. 'How fun.' 'Not porn. Erotica.' 'Same difference,' John said. He pulled the notes I'd scrawled towards him and squinted. 'OK, what happens next?' By the end of the day, John and I had plotted out an entire story arc: the student and the TA's tumultuous affair; the way they were almost found out; the forces that almost pulled them apart. Ultimately, love and sex brought them back together. 'This is basically an entire romance novel,' John said. 'Smuttier, though.' 'Of course.' 'And worse.' Maria spent the day brainstorming pen name ideas, which she would occasionally pipe up to suggest. Madame Scarlett? Delilah Rose? Candy Mae? Jolene Fox? 'What kind of vibe are you looking for, anyways?' Now, my days looked like this: I woke up at 6am and did the Horse News; I hammered out whatever freelance writing assignment I was working on; I wrote erotica; I ended my workday around 5pm, tired and achy. In the coming months, I sat in my hot, un-air-conditioned apartment, sweating and damp, and wrote between 3,500 and 8,000 words of smut per week. Since I was doing this with voice-to-text, I had to keep my windows closed, mortified at the thought of my neighbours hearing me speak vile things into my computer: words like member, length, girth and sometimes the names of fruit. I worked on one story throughout the whole summer. On weeks when, for whatever reason, I couldn't keep up – say, my hands were worse than usual or I got too busy with other work – my boss at the app was understanding. Your health is more important than this, she would say. Rest. It was the most compassion I'd ever gotten from an employer, which was nice but also annoying. Part of me hoped to be fired, freed entirely from my contract. But no – these people were, unfortunately, sweet and thoughtful. Within a few weeks I had come to hate the work. Though it was fun in the beginning, it quickly lost its charm, the sex scenes becoming tedious and exhausting once they were no longer new to me. 'There are only so many ways to write 'they had sex', you know?' I told Maria one day. She shook her head. 'I really don't.' The biggest problem was just that I was overworked. Writing that much sapped all of my creative and physical energy, leaving me unwilling or unable to write much else. When I neared the final chapter, my friends and I sat around with a bottle of wine and celebrated the fact that my life as an erotica writer was almost done. They suggested words and phrases I should try to sneak into the final chapter as a little personal challenge: cornucopia, sledgehammer, pumpernickel, Seinfeld, Donna Tartt, the Watergate scandal. Maria squinted at John. 'That last one is too silly,' she said. 'She won't be able to manage it.' 'Have faith,' I said. I managed them all, laughing along the way as I tweaked the story to include them. By the time it was done, I'd written more than 70,000 words of smut. My editor asked if I wanted to renew my contract and I declined. She insisted, saying we could alter the work schedule, maybe even up my pay by another $5 per chapter. My story, she revealed, was gaining a devoted following, quickly becoming one of the most popular on the app. This felt nice – my anonymous magnum opus. Still, I said no. As time passed in Montreal and I did more odd jobs, my hands were getting marginally better. This meant that, as long as I was very careful and worked within a strict set of limitations, there was one more type of work that became available to me again: cartooning. I'd loved drawing since I was a kid. Growing up, I drew countless pictures of animals (especially birds), carefully copying them from the books I begged my mom to buy me. When my pain first started in 2021 and I realised I would have to take a months-long break from drawing, it had been a particularly tough blow. Drawing wasn't as big of a part of my income or my identity as writing was, but it still mattered to me immensely. What felt worse was the fact that, a month before I lost the ability to draw, I'd sold my first cartoon to the New Yorker – an accomplishment I'd worked towards for years, and which I worried I might never be able to repeat. Now, in my very ergonomic home office, I could draw again (though I needed to set a timer beforehand to make sure I didn't work for more than 20 minutes at a time). When the timer went off, I'd stand and stretch and take a break. I limited the amount of projects I took on so I wouldn't overdo it. However, every now and then I pitched a cartoon to the New Yorker, or accepted a commission request for a portrait of someone's dog. Cartooning became a very small part of the tapestry of odd jobs that came together to make up an income. But it was one I was happy to be able to include. On dates, I try to condense this all into a short spiel. I'm a writer. I do the Horse News. I'm a copywriter. I also draw cartoons, sometimes, but that's neither here nor there. Even this has omissions, but it's the best I can do. 'Wouldn't you rather just have a normal job?' one date – a lawyer – asked. It's something I've wondered myself. Sometimes, looking at overlapping assignments and deadlines on my Google calendar, I feel overwhelmed and exhausted. But when I'm in pain, I can take a break in the middle of the day, or even go back to bed if I need to. 'This suits me best,' I said. I ended that date early, as I do all weekday dates. I have a great excuse: Horse News is due at 7.30 tomorrow morning. Excerpted from Look Ma, No Hands by Gabrielle Drolet. Published by McClelland & Stewart, a division of Penguin Random House Canada Limited Listen to our podcasts here and sign up to the long read weekly email here.

Justin Bieber opens up about his 'anger issues' in candid Instagram post
Justin Bieber opens up about his 'anger issues' in candid Instagram post

Daily Mirror

time2 hours ago

  • Daily Mirror

Justin Bieber opens up about his 'anger issues' in candid Instagram post

Justin Bieber had taken a swipe at wife Hailey last month on social media amid a worrying period, during which fans have expressed their concern for the popstar Troubled popstar Justin Bieber has confessed to being "broken" and "angry". The singer opened up about his "anger issues" in a new post on Instagram, the latest in a string of self reflections he has uploaded in recent months. Fans have become concerned for the star's mental health after disturbing social media posts included close-up selfies and blurry images. ‌ But in a candid post today, Bieber, 31, said: "People keep telling me to heal. Don't you think if I could have fixed myself, I would have already? I know I'm broken. I know I have anger issues... I tried to do the work my whole life to be like the people who told me I needed to be fixed like them. And it just keeps making me more tired and more angry. The harder I try to grow, the more focused on myself I am. ‌ "Jesus is the only person who keeps me wanting to make my life about others. Because honestly, I'm exhausted with thinking about myself lately. Aren't you?" Concern has also been shared for Bieber's relationship with wife Hailey, following spats played out on social media. Bieber blanked his wife on Mother's Day and, consequently, she chose not to wish him a public happy Father's Day on Sunday. They married in South Carolina in September 2019 and, in August last year, model and socialite Hailey gave birth to a son. Since then, the Biebers have had anything but domestic bliss and, earlier this year, the Canadian popstar admitted on social media he struggles with feeling like a "fraud". It is a far cry from Bieber's heady days as a confident 16-year-old prodigy when Baby, his track with Ludacris, peaked at third in the UK charts and fifth in the US. He would, within five years, top both charts with What Do You Mean?, a fun and summery number blasted out at parties across the world. Fans - reminiscent of that successful Bieber era - took to social media themselves recently to post messages of support. One person said: "Awh good love him seriously struggling it's looking like Liam Payne and Britney [Spears] someone needs to help him before it's to late." As a second wrote: "So hard and sad to watch. Why are the people around him not helping him when he's clearly struggling. He's not clear at all and hurting." "Babe. Please go get help," another chimed in, as a fourth commented: "Omg men u need therapy ur case is serious." "Bro you're 31, get some therapy for your sons' sake. Or divorce Hailey then get therapy idk man but you need to get yourself together for Jack," one added, with another writing: "I love you and I'm praying for you. You're so many peoples idols. You have an amazing voice. You're a father, whatever you're going through I hope you can heal."

DOWNLOAD THE APP

Get Started Now: Download the App

Ready to dive into the world of global news and events? Download our app today from your preferred app store and start exploring.
app-storeplay-store