Let Me Tell You a Story…

… about The Girl in This Picture


It is 2018. She is 30 years old.

She’s just arrived home from 5 months on the road, travelling across India, Thailand and Malaysia.

It’s the third time she’s done this.

She travels every winter.

Next year it’ll be Australia. She’ll live in Melbourne for 9 months – then spontaneously run off to the USA to take the road trip of a life time.

Right now, though – May 2018: she has no home.

She lives, part time, in a spare bedroom belonging to two wonderful friends (who are engaged, by the way – they have a baby now too).

She has no plans to own a mortgage. She much prefers a back pack.

The few possessions she does own are stored in boxes at her parents’ house, where they’ll stay for the foreseeable future.

Her cat lives there too.

This girl is single. Like, REALLY single. But she doesn’t hesitate to mingle.

(Really, she doesn’t…).

On again, off again – the last relationship she had ended briefly whilst she travelled, and fair play they both tried to rekindle things when she came back. But when it really came down to it, those two were no longer compatible.

Now, she goes to sex parties and plays with boys… and girls, and more boys… and even more girls, again.

Tomorrow is a Monday; but this girl, here?

She won’t be heading to work in the morning. She doesn’t have any work to head to, not for a few months yet anyway.

She chose to start her own business a few years back, and so far, it’s been a success! But it’s seasonal. Which is why she travels. She’ll earn the pennies later.

Not many pennies, mind, but enough to fund her lifestyle at least.

This girl – she’s smiling.

She’s smiling, because she’s happy. She’s happy, because she has no reason not to be.

Let’s wind back a few years further…


At the oh-so-tender age of 24 I thought I had it all planned out: I had a degree and a good job – I was on my way up.

I lived in Swansea, in South Wales, and spent 10 hours every week commuting to and from an office in Cardiff.

I lived for my weekends – that’s when I could do the house work, cook a dinner, and chill-out for the evening in the little home I’d made for myself.

I had a boyfriend whom I loved, and one day we would get married. We dreamed of owning our own home – a 3 bed-semi in the country, and we couldn’t wait to start a family.

And then overnight, everything changed.

My boyfriend died. My whole world fell apart.

And the 24-year-old version of me? Well, she went with him.


I had to rebuild my whole life from scratch. And in doing so: rediscover who I was.

But this is where things really started happening.

Because in rebuilding my identity, I discovered someone new. Someone true, and authentic. Someone who was actually a million ways different from the girl who once enjoyed her train commute to Cardiff.  

I discovered this:

  • I hated my job. I wanted to be my own boss. I didn’t like office hours, and I DEFINITELY didn’t want to be told what to do.


  • Mortgage? What for? I didn’t know where I belonged now. Wales wasn’t my home; it had been his. And actually, I was quite happy about that. I don’t need know my place. I didn’t plan on sitting still.


  • I wanted to travel. Like, not just have a holiday; I mean explore the world and all it has to offer. I wanted to live alongside a thousand different cultures, and go from place to place on a one-way ticket with an indefinite return.


  • Kids? Fuck off. I mean, sure – they’re cute when they behave well – but they’re not for me. And I’m pretty cool with that.


I found out that there was another side to me that had always existed. A fierce, proud, independent soul, with a great big heart, but an overwhelming desire to please herself.

I was a person who had learned the hard way that life is too short, and I wanted only to live each day for every moment.

Because, why the fuck shouldn’t I?

My friends had all settled down. They got married, bought houses, and started having babies; and I was (and still am) proud as punch for each and every one of them. They were doing what they wanted.

But their life, was not my life. My life was very different. And what’s more:

I knew that this was OK.

‘My life now’ is not the tragic outcome of some unfortunate incident.

Sure, it is the result of an overhaul I didn’t plan for. A change I didn’t (at one stage) even know I needed.

But it is a life that I’ve fallen in love with.

I life that I discovered as I began to rebuild a whole new world for my own true self.

It is the life that I have chosen.

And I wouldn’t change a thing.

This isn’t a ‘fuck my life’ story.

This is the story of a girl, who didn’t give a fuck.

So here we are today…

April 2020.

Two years on from when the picture above was first taken. And while a few of the facts may have changed (once again) for the girl in the story, the biggest fact of all is this:

I’m still living that same ZFG Life.

And I’m living it bigger, better & stronger than ever.

And you know why?

Because in the life where I give ‘zero fucks’ – I smile hardest. And right now, I’m smiling hard for every day that I live.

This not ‘FML’ this is ‘ZFG.’

This is me.
Samantha Kelsie.


⚡️ So tell me, what’s your story?⚡️

Want to know how Samantha can take you from FML to ZFG in one totally kick-ass life coaching series?

Visit the ‘Us & Together’ pages ASAP
Email Samantha direct:

Samantha Kelsie | ZFG
Lifestyle Empowerment Coach

⚡ Permission to be – unapologetically YOU. ⚡


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