That's really impactful - especially when you consider the proportion who don't have your best interest at heart. If only you could tag them both!
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Ha. Not the only one from this forum that has featured on the cover! They too are an abusive wick that uses their children for bate.
On a serious note though. I hate how these sinister males are somehow making themselves connected to thus very important and real theme. And yet alot of them are the harmful ones. Which means we still arent tackling red flag pricks,we are putting them in front of males and females they will do harm to,either directly or via the things they say and show. And it means with quick manipulation and spouting bull these red flags mats are still gaining their platform.
So many errors! Fixed it. 
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Aah, cute! All 314,000 Grandmas and Grandpas.
Don’t forget to tag the brands.
Don’t forget to tag the brands.
Gross that’s she’s intentionally made the thumbnail of a reel of Ryan and her dad smoking in the rain (nice) be a completely unrelated photo of Leo and Uncle Sam… talk about clickbait. Both Sam and Leo are just a means to an end for Louise and Bryan
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I kayak, therefore I am?
Here we see the male influencer in his natural habitat: posing thoughtfully beside his equipment, making sure it's all in shot.
Some see a flood warning. Ryan sees a metaphor for the overwhelming tide of wisdom he is about to share.
Keep pootling.
Here we see the male influencer in his natural habitat: posing thoughtfully beside his equipment, making sure it's all in shot.
Some see a flood warning. Ryan sees a metaphor for the overwhelming tide of wisdom he is about to share.
Keep pootling.
Did she honestly just say that its not all glamour when having to slumb it sitting her fuckong laptop up. In her spare dressing room that not even her spare room which is able to be totally appointed to her and her spare clothes room.amongst gifted bursting cupboards that she will now make a huge profit off by selling it on.
And then asking if an office is worth it. Another expense.
Oh and by the by head. Your fiaaaancaaaay. Has a grand ego'd size office with duck all in it. Another way in which you're privalahed as duck eith not even have to share office space and have the apt place to go work at.
And then asking if an office is worth it. Another expense.
Oh and by the by head. Your fiaaaancaaaay. Has a grand ego'd size office with duck all in it. Another way in which you're privalahed as duck eith not even have to share office space and have the apt place to go work at.
"And ting" Louise?
Is there a formal course called "Advanced Cringe Suppression for Influencers"?
Or "How to Stop Feeling Embarrassed When You Should Be".
In today's post Ryan had the illusion he was oozing modern philosopher exploring life's deeper currents.
What the viewer saw: Ryan, the MIC extra, parked his Defender next to a flood sign and borrowed a kayak.
Is there a formal course called "Advanced Cringe Suppression for Influencers"?
Or "How to Stop Feeling Embarrassed When You Should Be".
In today's post Ryan had the illusion he was oozing modern philosopher exploring life's deeper currents.
What the viewer saw: Ryan, the MIC extra, parked his Defender next to a flood sign and borrowed a kayak.
I feel like going on a rampage and contacting every single media outlet that still buys in to her tales of "birth trauma" 5 years on... THREE traumatic births later, I'm now pregnant with baby no.4 !! Because life moves on. It angers me how she doesnt pay recognition to amazing services within the NHS (Perinatal mental health teams) who offer therapies like EMDR & CBT - therapies that actually work !! She doesn't recognise charities such a Birth In Mind or Bliss or the endless forums/networks of mums with similar experiences who all support each other... Her trauma tour needs to come to an end she's profited off it for long enough. And her surrogacy journey needs squashing too - I pray she never finds a woman foolish enough to offer her, her womb!
That reel she just posted of Leo stroking her hair and tucking it behind her ear is so staged. Poor performing monkey, he clearly very un-naturally tucks her hair behind her ear then checks behind the camera that he's done it right. It's all so fake!
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The other thing is that kids of that age basically mirror (and say) back to you what they think you want to hear. They’re remarkably perceptive wee things.
I fear because they are now fully talking and flogging it,because of there ickle ego, they wouldn't be doing so unless they jad that womb already in the bag.
I completely understand why this bothers you.
I've never experienced this myself, so I think there's real value in listening to people who have actually experienced multiple traumatic births and come out the other side.
What strikes me, though, is that despite everything you've been through, you're expecting your fourth child.
We can see that trauma can be part of your story without becoming your entire identity.I also completely agree with your point about the support services. They rarely seem to get the recognition they deserve.
The issue is not that Louise still talks about trauma. I know personally that trauma and PTSD aren't timed events and nobody gets to decide when someone should be "over it".
The issue is that Trauma appears to have become this all-purpose seasoning that she sprinkles over absolutely everything!
No matter what the original post is about, there will inevitably be a reminder that Louise has suffered, survived, overcome and inspired.
And there's never much room in the story for anyone else. Not the organisations doing the hard work every day. Not the women like you facing similar challenges without a public platform, a book deal, a management team and regular freebies.
Because everything comes back to Louise.
The irony is that she constantly describes herself as empathetic, but her content is almost entirely self focussed.
People who genuinely raise awareness usually shine a light on others. Louise somehow manages to turn the spotlight back on herself every single time.
She's not documenting her recovery, is she. She's building a whole flipping legend around it.
I hate him so much for how hes using his child.
I have to brave myself on his posts waiting for my shriveled cringe over the tyoe of music he plays over his posts!
his hands make me not want to be touched by another hand ever again. The pinkie ring that means something so gross when worn on men like him
I have to brave myself on his posts waiting for my shriveled cringe over the tyoe of music he plays over his posts!
his hands make me not want to be touched by another hand ever again. The pinkie ring that means something so gross when worn on men like him Louise no and no and no times forever more.
There's more of a link between a baboons arsewhole than there is him.
There's more of a link between a baboons arsewhole than there is him.
The gym video is back! But without all the judgey, "why can't you just be like ME" twaddle.
Now with added footage of the infamousMum's race Lulu Olympics.
She's so attached to that video of herself winning a nursery sports dash that she's repackaged the entire post just to get it back on the grid.
However, it gives us yet another joyous opportunity to remember Runner Up Ryan and his honourable resilience.
Ryan finishing second but describing it as "joint first" is one of the most Ryan things Ryan has ever Ryaned. Bravo!
Now with added footage of the infamous
She's so attached to that video of herself winning a nursery sports dash that she's repackaged the entire post just to get it back on the grid.
However, it gives us yet another joyous opportunity to remember Runner Up Ryan and his honourable resilience.
Ryan finishing second but describing it as "joint first" is one of the most Ryan things Ryan has ever Ryaned. Bravo!
Dear Leo,
Father's Day is coming up this Sunday.
I wanted to write to you about my own father in this letter, so I got up at 5:00am thinking I could sit in silence with some coffee and my thoughts.
Instead, I'm sitting at the kitchen table watching you watch Cars 3 on Disney+.
Truth is, I wouldn't want it any other way.
Looking at you gives me all the inspiration I need to write this one, so here goes.
As I write this, you are four and a half years old. By the time you read it, I imagine you'll be much older. Maybe you'll have children of your own. Or maybe you'll simply be trying to make sense of who your dad was.
This week feels special. Not because of Father's Day itself, but because of what it has made me think about. In two days' time, we're hosting an event at Twickenham Stadium. You'll be there too, with Mumma.
In fact, you'll have one of the most important jobs of anyone. You'll be leading us from the England changing room and out towards the pitch. An honour normally reserved for elite athletes.
Whilst you probably won't realise the significance of it yet, I don't think I'll ever forget that moment. And I hope that one day you look back at this chapter of our lives with a smile and a feeling of, "My dad did something pretty cool there."
As I've been planning this event, I've spent a lot of time thinking about fathers. Not Father's Day cards or presents. Fathers.
The men doing their best every day to raise good children. The men carrying responsibility quietly. The men figuring it out as they go. The men who sometimes feel like they exist in the background of the family photo.
Present, dependable, supportive, but often unheard.
I wanted to create a space where fathers could come together and be seen. A space to celebrate the privilege of being a dad, to talk honestly about the challenges that come with it, and to reflect on the values we hope to pass on to our children.
Because fatherhood matters. The conversations matter. And the example we set matters.
More than anything, I hope the evening becomes a reminder that what we leave behind is never as important as what we leave within the people we love.
An illustration of Leo and me sat around the fire - by @projectponce
Your Mum and I recorded a podcast a few days ago and found ourselves talking about Father's Day.
Looking back over my four years as your dad and what this moment in the calendar means to me. As the conversation unfolded, I realised something. A lot of my heart wanted to talk about your grandad.
My dad.
Perhaps that's because becoming your dad has made me appreciate him more than ever. I've started to understand the sacrifices he made that I never saw. The worries he carried that he never shared. The responsibility he felt that I could never fully understand until I became a father myself. The older I get, the more I realise that fatherhood isn't something you master. It's something you inherit. Learn. Adapt. And eventually pass on.
The podcast team and your Mum surprised me with a letter from Grandad during the recording.
Well, technically it was a voice note, and I wasn't expecting it at all.
I don't remember the last time I cried like that. Not because the words were dramatic. But because they were so raw and honest. For a few minutes, I stopped being a father and became a son again, his son.
I could hear the pride in his voice. The slight change in pitch when the words drifted into the deeper, more emotional parts of his heart. The things fathers don't always say out loud. But, grandad was able to do it.
During that voice note, I realised how fortunate I am that we still have time together. Three generations.
Grandad.
Me.
And you.
Not everyone gets that. Not everyone gets the chance to be a son, a father and a grandson all at the same time. And in that moment, I felt incredibly grateful for the family that surrounds us.
When you're young, time feels endless. Then one day you realise that some of the people you love most won't always be here.
And suddenly the ordinary moments become precious.
So if there is anything I want to protect right now, it's that. Time together. The three of us.
(And the rest of the family, of course.)
Because one day you'll understand what I am only just beginning to understand now.
The greatest inheritance isn't money. It isn't success. It isn't status.
It's love that gets passed from one generation to the next.
Father's Day is coming up this Sunday.
I wanted to write to you about my own father in this letter, so I got up at 5:00am thinking I could sit in silence with some coffee and my thoughts.
Instead, I'm sitting at the kitchen table watching you watch Cars 3 on Disney+.
Truth is, I wouldn't want it any other way.
Looking at you gives me all the inspiration I need to write this one, so here goes.
As I write this, you are four and a half years old. By the time you read it, I imagine you'll be much older. Maybe you'll have children of your own. Or maybe you'll simply be trying to make sense of who your dad was.
This week feels special. Not because of Father's Day itself, but because of what it has made me think about. In two days' time, we're hosting an event at Twickenham Stadium. You'll be there too, with Mumma.
In fact, you'll have one of the most important jobs of anyone. You'll be leading us from the England changing room and out towards the pitch. An honour normally reserved for elite athletes.
Whilst you probably won't realise the significance of it yet, I don't think I'll ever forget that moment. And I hope that one day you look back at this chapter of our lives with a smile and a feeling of, "My dad did something pretty cool there."
As I've been planning this event, I've spent a lot of time thinking about fathers. Not Father's Day cards or presents. Fathers.
The men doing their best every day to raise good children. The men carrying responsibility quietly. The men figuring it out as they go. The men who sometimes feel like they exist in the background of the family photo.
Present, dependable, supportive, but often unheard.
I wanted to create a space where fathers could come together and be seen. A space to celebrate the privilege of being a dad, to talk honestly about the challenges that come with it, and to reflect on the values we hope to pass on to our children.
Because fatherhood matters. The conversations matter. And the example we set matters.
More than anything, I hope the evening becomes a reminder that what we leave behind is never as important as what we leave within the people we love.
An illustration of Leo and me sat around the fire - by @projectponce
Your Mum and I recorded a podcast a few days ago and found ourselves talking about Father's Day.
Looking back over my four years as your dad and what this moment in the calendar means to me. As the conversation unfolded, I realised something. A lot of my heart wanted to talk about your grandad.
My dad.
Perhaps that's because becoming your dad has made me appreciate him more than ever. I've started to understand the sacrifices he made that I never saw. The worries he carried that he never shared. The responsibility he felt that I could never fully understand until I became a father myself. The older I get, the more I realise that fatherhood isn't something you master. It's something you inherit. Learn. Adapt. And eventually pass on.
The podcast team and your Mum surprised me with a letter from Grandad during the recording.
Well, technically it was a voice note, and I wasn't expecting it at all.
I don't remember the last time I cried like that. Not because the words were dramatic. But because they were so raw and honest. For a few minutes, I stopped being a father and became a son again, his son.
I could hear the pride in his voice. The slight change in pitch when the words drifted into the deeper, more emotional parts of his heart. The things fathers don't always say out loud. But, grandad was able to do it.
During that voice note, I realised how fortunate I am that we still have time together. Three generations.
Grandad.
Me.
And you.
Not everyone gets that. Not everyone gets the chance to be a son, a father and a grandson all at the same time. And in that moment, I felt incredibly grateful for the family that surrounds us.
When you're young, time feels endless. Then one day you realise that some of the people you love most won't always be here.
And suddenly the ordinary moments become precious.
So if there is anything I want to protect right now, it's that. Time together. The three of us.
(And the rest of the family, of course.)
Because one day you'll understand what I am only just beginning to understand now.
The greatest inheritance isn't money. It isn't success. It isn't status.
It's love that gets passed from one generation to the next.