It's a hard life

It was the day I got myself a life coach that I realised I was turning a bit “Dubai''. More so when I excitedly told a friend about it and she replied with: “Oh cool. I have a feng shui guru.'' She wasn't joking.

You know what I'm talking about. When I first moved to Dubai I was self-conscious about my lack of designer sunglasses, tanned, toned limbs and embarrassed by my bags and their conspicuous absence of diamante. Nowadays, I never really feel as if I don't fit in.

It's a horrifying realisation but even as I type this I am wearing an obscenely large (fake) diamond ring, contemplating getting eyelash extensions and budgeting for my next sweep of Saks (in the 70-per-cent-off rack, of course).

Before I moved to Dubai, the only sales I shopped in were New Look and Topshop. The closest thing I had ever come to designer clothing was a second-hand Russell & Bromley bag — and I had never been to a massage parlour, let alone employed somebody to do my washing up for me.

I'm spoilt. My friends in the UK have been astonished when I have turned my nose up at my “shabby'' four-star hotel in Rome and, worse still, I ended up appalling myself when I recently (automatically) stopped in front of a hotel door and waited for one of the staff to open it for me.

Last week I even had a woman cut up my dinner in a restaurant, though, I must quickly confess, I hadn't asked her to.

It's not just me who has turned into a princess, though. Last weekend, my friend asked her security guard to chill the outdoor pool a bit more so that she wouldn't feel too hot in the 40-degree heat.

She even asked him to provide umbrellas because she felt “it's dangerous to sunbathe out there without shade''.

It's not that we are rich — far from it. We are just overly pampered by this service-happy society.

Everything is so convenient and service levels can be so high in Dubai that you unconsciously get used to a certain standard of living.

But when things don't quite live up to your expectations, the amount of stress it causes can result in what are commonly known as “Dubai problems''.

I went to a beach party with my friends a few weeks ago and we were all less than impressed. As we scanned the beach — with its open-air buffets, fire eaters and beanbags on the sand — we stood there, with folded arms. “This is rubbish,'' we moaned.

After a minute or two, I realised that if I had come to this party on the first night I arrived in Dubai, I would have thought it was incredible.

But nowadays, it takes more than a man swallowing red-hot flames to impress me. It makes me wonder where I will live next.

My boredom threshold has significantly lowered since I have been here. If an event doesn't include fireworks, canapés, dancers in colourful costumes and perhaps a soothing massage as part of the deal, then I'm not interested.

Where else in the world would you get that on a normal Sunday night?

I don't think there is any other option than to try and become humble when I move on from Dubai — anywhere else is going to be a luxury let-down.

Perhaps I will go full circle and live off the land in Peru. At least that might keep me entertained for a while, until the novelty wears off.

I will discuss it with my life coach.