How To Fail With Elizabeth Day - S7, Ep6 How to Fail: Marian Keyes

Episode Date: February 5, 2020

Marian Keyes is one of those people who you think can't POSSIBLY be as lovely and talented and nice as everyone says she is. She must have a hidden dark side, I thought. Maybe she's a terrible diva who will demand bowls of blue M&Ms and want my toilet freshly re-painted and scented with vanilla before she deigns to use it?But then you meet her and - lo and behold - she is not only as lovely as everyone says she is, but in fact EVEN NICER than that. This is a woman who has sold millions of book, who is one of the most successful and lauded Irish authors of all time, and who could quite forgivably be an egomaniac, but she's utterly fabulous. Or 'fabliss' as Keyes herself would put it.She joins me this week to talk about writing, feminism, low self-esteem, depression, alcoholism, humour as a survival mechanism, her failure to get into journalism college, weight loss (why she knows it shouldn't be important but still can't help worrying about) and her self-perceived 'failure' to have children. We also talk about her great new novel, Grown Ups, where the characters all seem like members of your own family and you're bereft to turn the final page.Thank you Marian. You really are fabliss.* This episode is sponsored by Frank Body who are offering listeners 15% off when they spend £20 or more with the code HOWTOFAIL15 at checkout.* The Sunday Times Top 5 bestselling book of the podcast, How To Fail: Everything I've Ever Learned From Things Going Wrong is out now in paperback and available to buy here.*Grown Ups by Marian Keyes is published by Penguin and is available to buy here.*How To Fail With Elizabeth Day is hosted by Elizabeth Day, produced by Naomi Mantin and Chris Sharp. We love hearing from you! To contact us, email [e-mail]* Social Media:Elizabeth Day @elizabdayMarian Keyes @mariankeyes   Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

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Let's go seize the night. That's the powerful backing of American Express. Visit amex.ca slash yamex. Benefits vary by card, other conditions apply. Hello and welcome to How to Fail with Elizabeth Day, the podcast that celebrates the things that haven't gone right. This is a podcast about learning from our mistakes and understanding that why we fail ultimately makes us stronger. Because learning how to fail in life actually means learning how to succeed better. I'm your host, author and journalist Elizabeth Day, and every week I'll be asking a new interviewee what they've learned

from failure. Marion Keyes once said that, to be funny is easier for me than anything else. And indeed, her wit and her wisdom have made her into one of the most successful Irish novelists of all time. She's written 18 books, sold over 35 million copies, and been translated into 36 languages. Born in Limerick and raised in Dublin, Keyes initially studied law at university and found administrative work in London. At the age of 30, she started writing short stories out of the blue. Her first novel, published in 1995, was a runaway bestseller. But what makes Keyes extra special is that her ability to make you laugh out loud is matched by her capacity to make you weep with feeling. You can tell that this is a writer with wisdom born from experience.

In her 20s, she developed alcoholism and clinical depression, culminating in a suicide attempt. In 2009, she went through a major depressive episode, during which she said, every day was an enormous effort not to do the acts of wounding myself. It was, she says, baking cakes and the passing of time that saved her. Her latest novel, Grown Ups, deals with what happens when you scratch the gilded surface of a picture-perfect family life. So what does Keyes herself make of growing up? life. So what does Keyes herself make of growing up? I wouldn't have my 20s back for all the money in the universe, she told me in 2013. I can't wait to be 70. Marion Keyes, welcome to How to Fail. Thank you. It's lovely to be here.

It's heavenly to have you in my home because I feel that I know you so well already through all your fantastic books. Oh my God, that's really, really nice of you. Thank you. Do you get that all the time though, people thinking that they know you and that you're their friend? Yes. And I really appreciate that. I mean, my books are not always about me, but I suppose they're channeled through me. I mean, I suppose the philosophy is sort of the same in nearly all of them that we're able to coexist with our wounds. So I think people like the message that I seem to keep on delivering. So yes, I think a lot of people feel that they know me already, which I love because I suppose one of the things that has always dogged me and that I've

written about an awful lot is feeling not connected. And to write about those feelings of kind of loneliness or oddballness or alienation has paradoxically connected me. It's been the most joyous thing. That's been the thing that I've enjoyed most about being published. I know it's very annoying when interviewers assume that characters you write about are based on you, but Grown Ups is such a fantastic novel. Thank you. You deal with this extraordinary cast of characters. There's so many of them that I honestly don't know how you kept a handle on it all. And it's 600 pages long, but reads like it's

a hundred. Thank you. And there's a character in it called Jessie. Yes. And she experiences what you've just described as some of those oddball loner feelings, like not having any friends. Yes. And I mean, she's 50 and she really thought she'd have grown out of it. She always tried very hard to be useful.

You know, she would drive people everywhere in her pristine Nissan Micra, or, you know, she'd be the person kind of cleaning up after parties and now she's kind of the matriarch of this family and she has the most money and she organizes a lot of kind of family events and family parties and pays for them all to go to expensive hotels and she has these moments when she thinks that she has to rent her friends, that if she wasn't spending money or organising attractive nights out, that she wouldn't have any. It's just that I think our default setting is never something that we fully evolve out of and that unpleasant circumstances are kind of a nexus of events can send us right back there. And I am a bit of a Jessie in many ways.

I'm the eldest in my family and I am the one with the clipboard at the bottom of the stairs shouting at everyone to hurry up. And I like to move en masse. I like going mob handed to places. I think myself and my husband have a lovely time. expanded to places I think myself and my husband have a lovely time but I really feel it's far nicer if we're accessorized by several siblings and their spouses and their children and their children the friends you know I like I like a gang that comes across loud and clear in grown-ups which is all about this family the Casey's who I just now want to know in real life but I can't because they're in your head well you can you can come and meet the Kieses.

I mean, okay, the characters in the Kieses are nothing like my siblings, but that sort of dynamic of a messy family, I love it. And obviously I must do because I keep revisiting and writing families. I've only kind of learned through writing these books that family is that important to me that's so interesting yeah just technically how did you

keep a grip on every character trajectory did you have lots of post-it notes no I don't do post-it notes I mean I know this sounds boasty I keep it all in my head because they have to become real to me. And I think every character has to be a mix of likability and flaws. And it's constantly about refining and refining and refining until the character is believably nuanced. And that takes time. Like I take a long time to write my books, which I am very ashamed about because the other writers I'm compared to, just they're faster. And I've tried not to be ashamed about it because one of the

great things is that I'm given enough time to really shape each character so that they are as complex as real people. So I just kept going back and kept going back and kept at it. And I feel very lucky to be allowed to do that. You mentioned the other writers that you're compared to there. Publishing has got better, but is historically a sexist industry. Oh God, yeah. Yeah. What are the other writers that you were compared to? Are they mostly women? Oh, they're all women. There's one man. What's that to do with? Where does it come from? It's the age old thing and it pervades

everything in our society that if something is done by a man, it's automatically more interesting. It automatically carries more weight. Like if a man writes a book about emotions, he's writing about the human condition. Like if a woman writes a book about emotions, she's writing a fluffy soap opera, but they are identical. The subject matter is identical and the execution is identical. But men cannot be seen as writers of fluffy soap. Obviously, it has to be far more meaningful, you know, and it has to be a universal, a searing exploration of the human condition in the quotidian blah-de-blah, you know? And it's just irritating. It's incredibly irritating. However, I am not going to complain about my circumstances because sexism makes life an awful lot harder for an awful lot

more women than female writers. Like how rape cases are treated, how women are treated by their doctors, how women's bodies are objectified. There is so much more that exists on the spectrum of sexism than the likes of me not getting a review in The Observer. So I observe the sexism in publishing and I quirk an eyebrow at it and roll my eyes. But there are far bigger manifestations of misogyny and far more painful. Like two women are killed a week in Britain by their partners. And it's always, she taunted him about his sexual prowess. It's always from the man's point of view.

Neighbours always describe the man as a very pleasant man you know an excellent father it's just anyway i'm going on a bit of a rant but yes that is how i feel the spectrum of sexism affects every woman in this part of the world peyton it's happening we're finally being recognized for being very online. It's about damn time. I mean, it's hard work being this opinionated. And correct. You're such a Leo. All the time.

So if you're looking for a home for your worst opinions. If you're a hater first and a lover of pop culture second. Then join me, Hunter Harris. And me, Peyton Dix, the host of Wondery's newest podcast, Let Me Say This. As beacons of truth and connoisseurs of mess, we are scouring the depths of the internet so you don't have to. We're obviously talking about the biggest gossip and celebrity news. Like, it's not a question of if Drake got his body done, but when.

You are so messy for that, but we will be giving you the B-sides. Don't you worry. The deep cuts, the niche, the obscure. Like that one photo of Nicole Kidman after she finalized her divorce from tom cruise mother a mother to many follow let me say this on the wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts watch new episodes on youtube or listen to let me say this ad free by joining wondery plus in the wondery app or on apple podcasts will no one rid me of this troublesome priest? This is a time of great foreboding.

These words, supposedly uttered by a king over 800 years ago, these words, supposedly uttered by a king over 800 years ago, set in motion a chain of gruesome events and sparked cult-like devotion across the world. I'm Matt Lewis. Join us as we unwrap the enigma and get to the heart of what really happened to Thomas Beckett by subscribing to Gone Medieval from History Hit. Let's go back to before you started writing because it takes us on to your first failure, which is your failure to get into journalism college.

Yes. Now, what happened there? Okay. When I was a teenager or even younger I had no vision for a future for me. I just hadn't. I just kind of thought nothing nice will ever happen. Nothing good will you know and I always felt oh my god will I ever meet somebody I love and have a job and that sort of thing. So I got a law degree when I finished school and that's probably a big deal, but it didn't feel like one to me because anything that I could achieve just automatically felt

kind of worthless. I knew I couldn't be a lawyer because I didn't have the confidence like everyone else in my class. And maybe it wasn't the case, but they all seemed to be born to it and I felt that I was this interloper and when I left college I didn't know what to do and there was a post-grad course starting I think was the first year it had ever run in another college. And I thought, I knew that I loved words. And I knew that this was the first thing that had sparked hope in me. So I applied and we had to write something. And based on the thing I'd written, I was called for an interview. And the interviews were very sort of modern in that there were group interviews and we were set tasks and we had to away day collaborate with other members in the group. And it was, you know, we were watching

this very sort of, I don't know, creepy way to see how we interacted. Anyway, so I didn't get in and I had already moved to London because again, I was always expecting failure. And my dad wrote me this letter and it still makes me really sad because he knew how it had given me hope and how I thought, perhaps this is my groove. This is something that I could do. I could tell it made him really sad to have to tell me it didn't happen. Like I was really sad, but I also sort of expected it. Where did that lack of self-esteem come from? I don't know. I feel like it was always there.

I don't want to sound like I'm putting blame on my parents because I'm absolutely not. But both my parents came from poverty. And my dad did, he got a scholarship and then he did night school and he became an accountant and my mother also did very well at school. And I feel that they both felt imposter syndrome, that they sort of moved from, well, my mother came from rural poverty and my dad came from inner city poverty and they moved into sort of the middle class. And I feel that they felt not at ease. I'm just one of those very porous people and I pick up on stuff. And I think maybe it was a combination of that and just the way I am, which is I'm a bit of a

catastrophist. It was just circumstances meeting me. And I never felt the same as anyone else. Like that feeling of being out of step or not as good as or faking it. Like it was there from really young. And even though like I was swotty at school and I was clever, it wasn't enough. I could pass exams, but I could never convince as a person, as a personality. I just, I couldn't. And I knew people found me odd because I didn't know how to be like other people. I didn't know how to manage life. Like I was missing something.

Do you actually think that now looking back? Do you genuinely feel you're missing something or do you feel now that actually that was just something you were telling yourself to be honest I still feel like I'm missing something there's something in me there's a lack of common sense I have become a lot better at a lot of things and maybe it's like this for everyone but there are times like especially if I find myself in a situation I've never been in before and I go into myself for the appropriate response and there's a blankness there which can be really frightening. Now it's not always there. There can be times when I'm asked a challenging question or somebody is particularly unpleasant to me and I've got a really withering response. The odd time I can manage that but there are times when you go into yourself and

you think, how do I respond? And all I find is like a door into an empty room and there's nothing there to enable me to progress in that particular mini little exchange. So I do, I suppose. But maybe everybody is like that. And maybe people are just better at faking it. Like, I'm very open about how I feel and how I function or don't function in the world. Maybe other people are just better at thinking, do not tell people how inadequate you can be. Maybe it's that. I think other people probably lack your insight as well, because you're incredibly insightful about the human condition when it comes to observing and writing character. And you must therefore be able to apply that to yourself in a unique way. Yes. Yeah. I mean, I'm very, very scathing in the way I self-analyse.

I know an awful lot of my bad bits. I am well aware of them. And I wish I was a better person I know myself from where I'm sitting you're a phenomenal person I can't see any of your bad bits and I just think you're a wonder oh stop you don't need to reply to that okay okay because I know it'll make you feel uncomfortable but that's genuinely meant I mentioned in the introduction that quote where you said you wouldn't have your 20s back for all the money in the universe. What was happening in your 20s after you were rejected from journalism college? What then happened? Well, the thing about that failure was I found it very humiliating.

Would it be hubris? Is that the word? I felt that I had been hubristic in thinking that I would be good enough to get into journalism college. And so I shut down everything. I shut down all ambition in myself, career-wise. I became very in the day, not in a good way, short-termist about everything. I kind of gave up. Alcohol had been a great friend to me from early teens. And it just became, you know, a better and a better friend. And I was in a job where my boss was very, very kind to me. Like she took care of me. And I was overqualified for that job. And I stayed there because I felt I would never be able to, quote, better myself anyway.

So I drank. I drank and I drove down cul-de-sacs and I had relationships with men who endorsed my own sense of self-loathing. I was hopeless with money. But at the same time, I was always holding out hope that something magical would happen. I mean, an awful lot of it was hung on a man, that this fabulous man would arrive and he'd make everything okay. He would polyphila in on my lacunae, is that the word? And he'd fix up all my wonky broken bits. And I don't know that maybe I wouldn't need to work or that I could have babies and and that I could be a good mother and that that could be my life it was just like treading water or being on a treadmill going nowhere cycling a stationary bike that's what I was doing

except I wasn't except because everything was getting worse and I I don't know, but a year and a half before I finally had to stop drinking, my drinking moved from a worry to, it was obviously alcoholic to everyone except me. I felt very depressed and I felt very hopeless. And I was so grateful to alcohol because I thought, my God, this is helping me because I am so unhappy. And how would I manage if this was taken from me? And any addiction is progressive. Like it gets worse and I continue to normalize the abnormal. I ran out of road and it was the best thing that could have happened to me. But it was like a waste of eight years. Although, no, I mean, it wasn't.

Because you had to get to the end of the road. I did, you know, like that thing about hitting rock bottom. Like, I wouldn't have stopped if it hadn't been unavoidably, undeniably horrific. And it was. What was the end of the road for you? You know, those things they say like slowly, slowly than all at once. I woke up one Monday morning and I was due to go to work. And the depression that goes with heavy drinking is hardly a surprise considering that alcohol is a powerful depressant. But I woke up and I thought, I cannot go on like this. And alcoholics

or addicts who decide to get help, they often talk about a kind of a jumping off point where you realize you cannot carry on as you are. But the idea of living without the substance, whether it's alcohol or whatever, it's well I was in this paralyzed powerless terrified state I was on antidepressants and I was on sleeping tablets and I took them all and I don't think I didn't want to die I wanted help like I wanted somebody to come along and sort of helicopter me out of it and that is sort of what happened. I was living in London, my parents were in Dublin. They had some sense of how bad things were, but my flatmate, who was still my really good friend, kept it from them, as did my work colleagues. But by trying to kill

myself, no matter how half-hearted it was, it kind of forced me into a point where I could no longer forced me into a point where I could no longer pretend that I was okay. And that got me into a rehab place. But even when I was going in there, I thought I was really depressed. I had heard that it was a really tough place. I was, this is excellent because I thought whatever was wrong with me was kind of depression or it was that I needed to have therapy and some sort of trauma would be identified and then it could be sort of plucked out of me and then I'd be fine and then I could go back and I'd be a normal person who could manage life and I could drink normally. Jesus, I was delusional, but like that is part of the whole illness. And I was just very lucky that like I went there and very quickly it dawned on me like the only thing that's wrong with me is that I'm an alcoholic.

And the only way I'll ever be OK is if I stop. And it was a clear revelation. But I was also I was heartbroken because this had been my best friend. I don't say it so much anymore because I have a different love of my life now, but it was the love of my life. It was my best friend. It took away my pain. It took away my fear. It took away my sorrow and my heartbreak at my empty life and like my loneliness. The thought of being without it, like I grievedieved it like the way you would grieve a lover or a person who died it's a very powerful relationship addiction it's incredibly

enmeshed and passionate well mine was it's like having a dysfunctional relationship with the an abusive person I knew what I had to do. And very quickly, I became hopeful. Like my feelings changed really quickly. And I suppose I was lucky. I think a lot of people who don't get that kind of immediate lift might relapse. But just because I wasn't pouring this powerful chemical into me any longer, my mood changed. And I felt, you know, I could see the wonder of the world, which had seemed like it was misty and ashy and shrouded in grey for so long. And I had hope that I could have a life which was more like the lives other normal people had. I feel so lucky. like the lives other normal people had.

I feel so lucky. I feel incredibly lucky. I feel incredibly lucky that you have the words to express what you went through with such beauty and eloquence. And I know that that will be enormously helpful for so many people listening. I hope, I hope, because it's such a hopeless condition, addiction,

you know, and that feeling that every door is locked, that you're trapped in this underground room. It is possible to recover. Like it is possible. And really and truly, for me, it was my waking thought. It was all about how I could drink, you know, where I would get it, how I got the money for it like it was everything to me I can be out now I can go to parties I can be at dinner with people people can drink I am like almost literally blind to alcohol which the freedom I've been given you know when I was such a prisoner and now I really can I don't care if I accidentally smell somebody else's wine, I feel, oh my God, now get it away from me. It's like horrible stuff. Like all it made me feel was miserable for years and years. And I have to say, totally superficially, your skin is amazing. Thank you so much.

I feel they can't be unrelated. But you mentioned there that you had hope that you could become sort of quote unquote normal. Yeah. And that part of that for you was having children. Yes. And you don't have children. No. And that is your second failure.

Yeah, it is. It is. Okay, I'm only speaking for myself. It's a very strange one. But if anyone else, forgive me, I know you've struggled. I'm not saying it's a failure for everyone. And I suppose I come from a family where there's five siblings and I feel that that's quite small for some reason I always thought I

would have children and then I met the man who is my husband I'm touching wood here like he's so lovely I just thought it would be lovely I just the, the idea of, you know, that thing I said to you earlier, like I like being mob handed. This is ridiculous, but I wanted to have six children. I mean, I know no matter what had happened, that would probably never have happened, but I love babies. I love children. I, I just love them. And it was a slow process of realising that it wasn't going to happen. And it just didn't happen? No, like, I mean, we tried things. Now, we didn't try IVF.

And I will tell you why. It's because so much in my life had improved. And I felt so lucky to be sober, to be alive, to be with this beautiful man who was and still is my best friend. And that I had this lovely job, like this incredibly fulfilling job where I felt useful. And I had also learned through 12-step programs and therapy that wanting too much is not healthy for somebody of my wants because I'm an addict and I get addicted to everything. And it was almost like there was a life lesson being given to me and I felt nobody gets everything. Nobody gets everything. And I worried about becoming too tunnel visioned about wanting this.

And I'm really not good when I don't get what I want. I'm an immature person. Like that's one of my many failings. I rage against the universe and why me and why didn't I get it and that sort of thing. But I was given some sort of grace around this. And it wasn't so much that I let go. It was lifted from me. And I have people close to me who also wanted children and who also didn't have them. And they have suffered far more than I did. And I see their pain and it breaks me. It's very unique odd unusual you know especially as a woman or maybe not maybe it's just hard for men but I know we're there we're equipped we've got the womb we've got the ovaries everything's in place it's meant to happen and I feel okay now I mean

we still have moments I mean like we used to joke about it. We had all their names, you know, for the six of them. And they were all going to be these sort of very fashionable Irish names, you know, there would be Sirse, agus Ífa, agus Táig, you know, and my husband and I used to joke that because I was doing the writing and everything, he'd be downstairs like doing the childcare. And now and again, I'd come down to inspect them and he'd have to line them all up. And, you know, we had so much fun thinking about it. So we have nieces and nephews now. Obviously, it's not the same, but we have both made our peace with it most of the time.

How long did it take you to make your peace with it? Because I can relate so hard to everything that everything was working okay and so did my husband and then tried various drugs clomid and such like and it was a slow dawning and it was almost like I grieved along the way with every procedure or every new thing we tried and it would come back and there would be no no success it was just one of those death by a thousand cuts thing and as I say I'm not good when I don't get what I want and this was one particular life loss that I was that something bigger than me made the pain okay as I say I see people who are in the throes of it and the agony of it. And they ask me how I'm okay. And I don't really know because I don't feel it

was me. And like, I am not in any way a religious person. Like I abhor that whole malarkey. But I think now and again in life, look happens or something happens and pain is dialed down. And I'm just lucky that this was me. You started off saying that maybe some people don't see it as a failure, but I just want to say thank you for choosing it as one of your failures, because I do think, you know, I talk a very good game on this yeah and on the whole failure thing and I do see my failure thus far to have children even if I've learned from it and even if I can be really positive about all the things that it gives me and all the opportunities I still if I'm truly honest I do feel a failure because it's a failure against my own expectation

as with you I always expected I would have a family of my own. And then it's also a social failure because there is still so much social conditioning that this is what happens. Women do, yeah. And people seem to be able to do it so easily, other people. I know, I know. I mean, I do know. And life seems to be divided between women who get pregnant at the drop of a hat, like by accident, you know, they didn't mean it to happen. And then there is a whole cohort of women who are ashamed. We are ashamed that our body didn't do what it's meant to do. And that's a quote. I'm putting that in quotation marks and then there's so much as you say societal stuff there's a lot of side eye i think that goes on at professional successful women who don't have children as if it's their

choice and aren't they a bit unnatural now oh they'd far rather prioritize the career now than do what their womanly bodies are expected to, are meant to do. I mean, I absolutely agree. People who don't know enough about a child-free woman will put a narrative on that particular woman that is very judgmental and that regards it almost as something that woman has chosen to do and that that is the wrong thing a woman should choose. There isn't enough tenderness, I think, or compassion for women who have miscarriages or who just haven't been able to do it. Do you think you write the children that you wish you had? Yes. I mean, yes. Yeah, I do. I do. I do. In the particular book, Grown Ups.

There's a social. Yeah, there is. And see, the thing is, I mean, I have a 19 year old niece and I can't tell you, I adore her. I mean, I love them all. And then if there's a two and a half year old niece and the boys make me laugh so much. I mean, I do. And when I'm with them, their personalities, like their carry on, I get such delight from them. And I really like being with them. It really matters to me. Yes, so I do. And I translate that feeling of that kind of tenderness and that, oh my God, like the feeling of wanting to protect them from pain. That is one thing that I worry about that I would not have been able to handle. I mean, one of the things I worried about was that any child of mine would end up like me, like either unable to function like a normal person

or that they'd end up with an addiction. And I wonder how I would have handled that. And I think I would have struggled with that. But even with my nieces and nephews, I just want to be their shield. Like anytime they get hurt or someone is mean to them or they're not invited to a party, like there's a character TJ in the book who isn't sure whether she wants to be a girl and she's regarded as weird. And Jessie, her mother, experiences like this acute protective sorrow on her behalf. So yeah, I put my imaginary children into my books. And in my last book, The Break, there were three young women, like two were teenagers and one was in her early 20s. And they were all based around versions of Emma, my 19-year-old. It's one way of living it out.

You write them very well. Oh, thank you. There's also a character in grown-ups called cara yes who lives with bulimia and i don't think i've ever read such a visceral and accurate portrayal of someone with bulimia ever i actually don't think it's really written about maybe that's why maybe i don't think i've ever read about it no I will say I am not bulimic my thing is like sugar and overeating but I don't make myself sick but I don't know why I decided well I mean I wanted to write about women food and body image the actual illness of bulimia I don't know why I chose to write about it

just I suppose because anything to do with being a woman and not being the right size I find so particularly painful so I researched it and I hope I did it justice if I had gone through it because I have no boundaries whatsoever of course I would talk about it I mean the thing that I do suffer from, which is like overeating sugar, I feel very ashamed about also. Well, that does bring us on to your third failure, which is an interesting one because you are a self-avowed feminist. And you say in your email to me, I understand that this is part of the sexist narrative and I wish I wasn't part of it. But the third failure is putting on and losing the same two stone all my life. I mean, I have so much to say about this. For a start, the idea of being smaller, of women making themselves literally smaller in the world,

like that is, excuse me, fucked up. Like it's insane. Like you're not worthy of the space. No. And I mean, I think it does go back to when human beings became agrarian. Women didn't have the upper body strength to operate the plough. So the men did it. So our roles became sharply defined between the big strong man and the woman who did other things. So I wonder if women being smaller makes men feel bigger. I mean, that's one fairly whimsical interpretation, but there's much, much more.

When I am overweight, which is a lot of the time, I feel ashamed asking for what I want, whether that's in a professional situation, when I go to the hairdressers, when I'm talking to a taxi driver about which route to go. Because do you feel you're being judged by the other person? No, I judge myself. And that's something I'd like to talk about as well, because it's internalized. And I have learned to despise myself. And this is not new for women. This has nothing to do with social media. This has nothing to do with skinny models and magazines. This has gone on for like at least a hundred years, probably lots more. But I have been taught that if I am not skinny, that I am

greedy, I am out of control, that I'm to be mocked, that I'm a figure of fun. Now this is all in my head, but I didn't get those messages from no place. I think it's where sexism and capitalism and puritanicalness intersect in a particularly horrifically juicy way to teach women to hate themselves. I mean, for a start, there's an awful lot of money to be made out of women wanting to be thinner. And there's an awful lot of other money to be made out of women being hungry, And there's an awful lot of other money to be made out of women being hungry, being exhausted from going to like five spin classes a week before work and keeping them too ashamed to speak up in meetings or to ask for what they want. It suits men to have women perpetually unsettled by feeling I'm in a size 14 skirt and I should

really be in a size 10. That's real. And it is one way how men hold on to power. I think that capitalism has caught on to men can also be ashamed of being overweight. It's nothing like as unpleasant as it is to be an overweight woman. But money has been made out of overweight men as well. But I think ultimately, it really reinforces that whole thing of, yeah, women should be kept in their place. And by mocking them for not matching

up to the ideal, that's a great way to undermine them. So you know all of that logically. I know it all logically, yes. But again, I can't think of a single woman that I know of who wouldn't relate to this. Yeah. That you think it logically and yet you can't feel it. I know. And it's awful because it's as bananas as like, I've been thinking about this, like it's feet binding in China. Imagine being ashamed because your feet were too big. Like in this country, we would laugh at that, but it's the same thing.

I am ashamed because I am too big and I shouldn't be. Like I'm healthy and I'm sane-ish. There's a lot of good in my life. And yet it's such a waste of joy. It's such a waste of time and energy. I know it all. It's like a civil war in me. It's like the rational head is coming back to me and shouting, feet binding, feet binding, remember that, you know? And then the other part of me that goes, I can't bear to look at myself in the mirror a lot of the time. And I know that that is ludicrous, but there it is. And because we're talking in the context of, we've admitted that this is a sexist yeah assumption that we've internalized yes wrongly yes so the question I'm about to ask is within that context so it's quite a sexist

question sure but because of what you've said about how in your 20s you valued yourself according to what man could polyphila your self-esteem yes you are now married to a lovely man. Yes. Does it matter what he thinks of how you look and what you eat? I'm touching wood here. So am I. Yeah. He says he doesn't care. I honestly don't think he does. He is so nice to me and he is so admiring of me.

And I'm really grateful for that. It's hard for me now, but maybe it would be an awful lot harder if I was with somebody who was mortified by having a woman, a wife, who would mind, who wouldn't want the size 14 coming out on his arm. I mean, I know that this is not logical. I know that my head is not right on this. I'm just being honest at how, and I am grateful that my husband doesn't seem to mind. I've been up and down, weight-wise I mean. And it honestly, he has seemed to love me as much as when there's more of me. I know this is so fucked up. Like I I really do and I hate talking about myself as if I'm an object but this is how I feel but I think it's so powerful because of the woman and the feminist that you are that you are talking about it because you're like actually there's this big

imperfection that I feel in my feminist outlook on the world and it's this one and so many people will relate to it yeah and you know I felt it really young like I think I was about 11 and I'd had the flu and when I got up and got dressed after it my jeans were loose and like at 11 I was so pleased where does that come from it's crazy what do you make of the body positivity movement I love love it. I love it. I am so heartened by it. I honestly think that millennials and youngers have a better idea. They have a healthier idea. I love to see young women not being a whatever, a size six or whatever, wearing clothes and wearing anything they want and having their stomach on view or like not being skinny and still loving their look and being

really blatant and flamboyant and putting themselves out there. I find it incredibly heartening. And I love people like Lizzo, who is just such an inspiration. I love it. I really, really do. My hope would be, it's probably too late for, who knows, for the likes of me, but for younger women, I would love if they ate what they want, if they never exercised, only if they wanted to. And if they just, they didn't waste any of their energy

worrying about, is my bum too big in this? I would love because so much more productive stuff can be done with that energy and with that time. Yeah, I suppose I feel hopeful and I do think the body positivity movement just has given more confidence. And can I really say that this is just my stuff? I don't want any other woman to feel that I would judge them because it's only about the voices in my head. And I really salute any woman who manages to be herself in her own body at whatever size. I salute them. I would love it myself. How do you manage then those voices in your head? It ebbs and flows it's not always unbearable I am not always crucified with shame and maybe it has got easier as I've got older I think everything has got easier as I've got older in that I think, you know, my body has

done so much for me. It's kept going for so long. But there are still days where I hate anything public. Like I have this thing that Cara has in the book of like, I don't want people to see me. And like, it's hard if you have to be wheeled out to be in the public eye from time to time, as I do. Anytime I have to go on telly, I'm always kind of flinching and braced for the, I'm attributing thoughts to the audience at home where they'd be saying things like, oh, Jesus, she's after getting hefty again, you know, and it's horrible. So some days it's just very hard. Some days I just don't want to do it. And some days I'm better at it. And I think, feck it. I've been so lucky. I try my best to be a

decent human being. And I really do. Like it really matters. Despite my flaws, I don't want to make the world a worse place. I would like it to be better. There are times when I'm able to sort of own the fact that I am trying to be a force for good. And there are times when that means something to me. Or like I'm with my 19-year-old niece and she loves me and she thinks I'm wise and she thinks I'm funny. Her opinion kind of fills me up and makes me feel sunshiny about myself so it's not all bad but it is a constant thread sometimes like an underground stream and sometimes it's out in the open force for good that's exactly what you are your books who you are I want to ask you one final question even

though I could sit here and talk to you for days on end we've talked a lot about growing up actually in this interview and your book is called grown-ups and I just wonder we started off talking about your 20s and how you couldn't wait until you were going to be 70 yeah and what age do you feel inside I feel about 44 now which is great yeah I was such a precise oh yeah it's funny I feel very 44 at the moment I feel I am far better able to stand my ground and I am able to turn away from the arrows of other people's opinion in a much better way. And that 44 thing of, you know, I feel like I'm starting the perimenopause, even though I am, you know, 56 and I'm on HRT and, you know, hopefully never coming off it. But yeah, I feel more confident a lot of the time. There are times when I feel it doesn't matter as much what people think about my appearance.

There are times when I feel it doesn't matter as much what people think about my appearance. I mean, it's mad because it's so not important. But yeah, 44, 44 is a good age. I would like to be 70. 70 would be an excellent age because then I'd be really wise and I could wear what I liked and I could sit on a bus with a bag of sweets and, do you know, and say anything I wanted to anyone to be free from the shackles of the opinions of others would be just the most joyous way to live and hopefully that will eventually happen will you come back on the podcast when you're 70 oh my god I'd love to yes thank you Marianne Keyes thank you so so much it's an absolute, thank you so, so much. It's an absolute pleasure. Thank you.

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