... that I prove, almost mathematically, that I am Carrie Bradshaw.
Down to mannerisms, the laptop by the window, the whirly tutu skirts and the curly hair that I always want part brown, part gold, all wild.
But here is the twist:
I am also, equally, a hippie at heart. Who scorns Carrie Bradshaw. Who wants an allotment to grow her own vegetables and who is actually happiest sitting cross legged doing interviews in a field.
Like I said before: Versus is a dirty word.