Scientists asked a sample of women to smell six male body odour samples before and after they took the pill to determine which they found most compelling, and the before and after results were different.

This science behind this, from what I gather, is quite simple. This is because heterosexual women usually can’t get enough of the sweaty arm pits of men who are genetically dissimilar to themselves, whereas the pill distorts this inclination, meaning women on birth control are attracted to prospective partners with whom they share genetic likenesses.

The implications of this are as follows:

…the pill disrupts the selection process and as odour perception plays a significant role in maintaining attraction to partners, it could ultimately lead to the breakdown of relationships when women stop using the contraceptive pill…Lead researcher Dr. Craig Roberts says by passing on a wide-ranging set of immune system genes, couples increase their chances of having a healthy child that is not vulnerable to infection and partners with different genes are also less likely to experience fertility problems or miscarriages. The researchers say major histocompatability complex cluster of genes which helps build proteins involved in the body's immune response is also known to influence smell signals called pheromones and this leads women to use their sense of smell in helping to choose partners.

Hmm…What to think about this? While it’s informative and interesting to an extent, the assumption underlying all of this research is that if a woman is taking the pill, it’s a temporary phase, because, of course, she is going to want children in the future. For a portion of the female population I am sure that this is true, it’s called family planning for a reason after all, but reports like this do nothing but incite anxiety and concern that if a woman is taking the pill, and then does decide to have a baby with a partner she has met ‘under the influence,’ then not only may she struggle to conceive, but when she does her newborn may have a number of genetic problems owing to the fact she had chosen to curb her womb’s creative urges for a limited amount of time.

Is this sort of research part of a much larger problem regarding reports on women’s fertility, designed firstly to make us panic, secondly to stop us taking any form of contraception, and thirdly to pressurise us to have children even if we do not want them because it’s what we are told we are supposed, nay have, to do? Conspiracy, maybe?

I don’t take the contraceptive pill as I don’t like the idea of chemically altering my body, but I have heard that it can have a lot of physical benefits beyond it’s primary objective, and if I was in a long-term relationship maybe I would consider otherwise. A pharmacist friend of mine, for example, told me that the pill can make a woman’s menstrual cycle a dream. A Dream. I am also discouraged by the fact I am so disorganised, so would end up taking packets upon packets one day of the month having realised I’d forgotten, which, from what a gather, is a big faux pas. Plus taking so many female hormones in one go could potentially result in me waking up with a face like a giant boob, and I'm not entirely sure how I'd feel about that.

But I don’t see a problem with other women choosing methods of birth control that are suitable for them, and think that until larger samples of the female population are analysed (there was no reference to the number of women questioned in this case, as far as I could find) and the results are more definitive, maybe media moguls should think about stopping regurgitating the same old supposed ‘women’s issues’ stuff, eh?

He explained that while he's "a bloke who respects women," he thinks that this could provide "an opportunity for some lonely women." There's considerate. A mayor who cares about the real issues, not only those pertaining to his townsfolk but plain-faced uglies scattered around the Australian mainland. In providing an exposition of the benefits for the f-uglies likely to flock to the town, he claimed in the Townsville bulletin newspaper last week:

Quite often you will see walking down the street a lass who is not so attractive with a wide smile on her face. Whether it is recollection of something previous or anticipation for the next evening, there is a degree of happiness.

So, not only does he want ugly women to move to his town where "happiness awaits," but he also thought while he was on his soap box he may as well berate the women currently living in Mount Isa for their unacceptable appearance.

Mount Isa is apparently a town populated by miners and cowboys, and so while it is described as "unique and progressive" on its official website, I for one am not ashamed to say I'm sceptical, especially owing to the desperate desire of the town's mayor to ship in some "sub-standard" ladies for the fellas to play with.There's something about this town which seriously unnerves me, just because I cannot imagine life is pleasant for the small percentage of women currently living there. According to the 2006 town census, there were just 819 women aged 20 - 24 living in Mount Isa out of a total population of 21, 412 people. Scary stuff. But perhaps the vast majority are moving away once they reach legal age because I'm not convinced local administration is likely to place great emphasis on women's rights within the township. Anyone else agree?

Obviously his comments have precipitated a lot of negative attention from both sexes, and have greatly upset the women in his township who, hopefully, are packing their bags and driving on out of there as we speak. But instead of conceding that maybe he should not have been so ignorant/inconsiderate/arrogant, he decided to remain resolute. He said it because he was just "telling it like it is." There we go then. Matter closed.

Now a confession: I found this story on the whole hilarious, primarily because of the refusal of Maloney to admit that he should have zipped up his cake hole before spewing out this pathetic diatribe, which made me, personally, see this as nothing more than a situation where a man, trying to be witty at the expense of others, in actual fact made himself look like a fool. Boomerang. Oh. Yes.

Whether this is founded in fact or the anecdotal depends on who you talk to. The press says yes. Of course. And did you not realise that once you embark on your third decade on this mortal coil all sexual contact is plagued by an incessant hissing reminiscent of a lit taper, as your womb begins to spin round and round like a Catherine wheel, spitting out ripe, yet unfertilised eggs? It’s a tabloid fact. Your friends say, no way! Your womb could cough out fresh-faced babes with the best of ‘em should you wish to lie back and think of England (or Scotland or Ireland or Wales or anywhere else in the world of your choosing). Science disagrees, and says you are too old, too young, too fat, too thin and too career-orientated to be a suitable vessel to bring man’s seed to fruition. And what do you say? Well, a good percentage of women, like me, probably go down the route of just not caring. While the media and family members try to centralise fertility as the most important facet of your being, there are a number of us who resent the idea that our existence and achievements will only be validated by getting up the duff.

There’s nothing wrong with yearning for a baby and, of course, each birth is a celebration of the wonders of the female body because, let’s face it, if something the size of a bowling ball can be squeezed out from “down there” it should be commended (I know I would want, nay expect, the biggest shiniest tackiest medal in the world ever, ever, ever, and be down right pissed off it I didn’t get it). But deciding not to have a baby should be considered an equally acceptable choice, without every woman who revels in her child-free life being greeted with the same pitiful and knowing smiles (“too single to get pregnant,” “too fat/thin to be a mother,” “what’s wrong with her? She must be infertile,” “her boyfriend’s/husband’s pants are too tight and too polyester,” “that’s why she works so much, but a career’s the only thing she’s got,” “it’s not like she’s got a good job to keep her occupied, she must be devastated,” etc…you get the picture…), because the default reaction is to always assume that if you don’t have a child, or aspirations of becoming a mother in the not too distant future, this is a consequence of physical/personality “defects,” rather than a conscious decision.

While from a personal perspective I am amenable to the idea that my opinions may change as I get older, at present I cannot envisage a time when I will want children. Babies are cute. I like holding them and feeding them from bottles. I like cuddling them, and watching them smile as I trace a finger around their tubby little faces, but I don’t want one. I like them because they are a novelty and I don’t have to change their nappies. I can give them back within minutes (or more commonly seconds - I have woken up horrified and sweaty at the thought of accidentally dropping a friend’s baby, so much so I only try to be around them in well-cushioned areas) should their faces start to crumple all smooth and soft and wrinkleless like folded dough, signalling that they are about to cry, scream and/or throw-up. I am not maternal at all, and so it would not make sense for me to start knitting booties and actively sniffing out a prospective sperm donor, because it’s not what I want. I like the uncertainty of my life. I like that I can do what I want, when I want, and that my money is my own to spend how I see fit. I’m inclined to say I’m selfish, but I’m not. How can I be? I’m not in a relationship with a partner who wants a baby/a mortgage/a pair of guinea pigs called Bubble & Squeak we can share on weekends. I have no responsibilities. I’m a single, child-free woman, just doing my thing, keeping it real, chilling, spending, and loving it, but what if I met and became besotted in love with someone who didn’t share my family planning ideals? Someone with whom I wanted to spend all my time with, maybe even the rest of my life with, until the subject of ze future reared its unpredictably ugly head and I found that despite the strength of my feelings I was unable to be receptive to my partner’s demands to have a baby? Would that make me selfish? And should the “do you want babies? I don’t want babies…” conversation then be a prerequisite before any relationship can develop beyond the first couple of did-it-hurt-when-you-fell-from-heaven chat-up lines? Because despite media pressures and family pressures, what about the men who want to get you pregnant? They are out there. Those you meet, commit to, tell you are not maternal, only to find they are expecting you to have their baby, romantically labouring all along under the assumption that, despite your explicit proclamation that you DO NOT WANT BABIES, they could convince you otherwise?

Having not been in a long-term relationship (and perhaps not being of an age where this would be a great issue) I’ve not had personal experience of this kind of emotional pressure, but this does happen. But how common is this phenomenon of the overly “broody” male? And is it a phenomenon as such, or something that’s always been hidden behind the male use of gross sexual innuendo and generic penchant for photo-shopped daguerreotypes of big naked breasts? Do men try to force women to have children behind closed doors? By which I mean, are there women out there who are embroiled in some form of emotional turmoil, wondering if they will have to sacrifice their partner, or their personal lifestyle choices to maintain their relationships? Is the idea that men like to have sex with as many women as possible, irrespective of the consequences, and more likely to scarper as soon as they hear the word “late” (whether or not you happen to be stood at a bus stop at the time) just a fallacy? Do a lot of men, in fact, just want to settle down, and nest with their chosen lady? Are they, too, acutely aware of their need to procreate by a certain age, their genitals tingling at the thought as if their ball sacks are filled to bursting with sherbet and fizzy lemonade? And why is it then, that if a woman chooses not to concede to the demands of her partner, she’s vilified, considered cold and faulty, and the reason why the relationship has broken down? Probably because this suggests an inversion of social stereotypes. Only women want to get pregnant, men don’t. Only men like to sleep around, women don’t. Only women cry and beg their partner’s to give them a baby, men don’t. Not true, not true. Not. True.

Just a short amount of searching on a London ad website (on which, I was told, it’s possible to get anything from a hair cut to a dinner date and a second-hand copy of the Goonies) yielded this, this and this, showcasing three men who are willing to offer their “help” to women to get them pregnant, with one ad in particular tinged with pitiful desperation. How sweet! And who said romance was dead, eh? But do these men deserve sympathy? Or are they just victims of their own vanity, assuming that they are so virile that any woman would want to gestate their spawn? Are they just plain offensive? I’m inclined to say the latter, but think each case needs to be assessed individually. While some undoubtedly just think any woman should feel privileged to have them ejaculate inside her, others may genuinely want a child, obviously convinced that getting a woman pregnant is the epitome of male biological achievement, which in itself is very sad. But can men such as these ever be given credibility, when they are expecting a woman to basically relinquish control of her body just so that they can point their erect cocks at her swollen body and smile with pride as they say “I did that.” Err, no thanks. But I wonder how widespread this is, which is why I wanted to write this piece, motivated in part by a recent advice piece in a women’s glossy magazine:

I’m 28 and my boyfriend is 32. We’ve been together for six years, we love each other and talk about our future - but he wants kids and I don’t. He thinks I’ll change my mind but I don’t want to pin his hopes on it. The thought of having a baby terrifies me - I’m too selfish and would make a terrible mum. I don’t want him to miss out on a family but I can’t bear the thought of splitting up.

So, the advice? Don’t doubt yourself, do what you feel most comfortable with. Nope. Perhaps you need to sit your partner down and discuss with him why he devalues your opinions by assuming you are so fickle that you will soon concede to his wishes. Nope. While you don’t want your partner to “miss out on a family” consider whether you want to experience pregnancy and childbirth and probably be the sole carer for a sticky-tape baby, born for no reason other than to bolster your relationship. Nope. Rather, the agony aunt tells this woman that she should seek counselling to determine why she feels this way, before the old favourite of pseudo-psychologists/psychotherapists is wheeled out: “Was the relationship with your mother rocky?” A warning is also offered: “if you decide to continue with your childless relationship, there could be a price to pay in the future.” Shit. That sounds ominous. Even the use of the word “childless” implies that her life is not as fulfilling as it could be and that she is in some ways depriving herself of a great pleasure, as opposed to “child-free”, which would suggest possibility and opportunity, and an existence liberated from the shackles of the womb. Having read that I’m left feeling like I should have a baby myself right here, right now, even though no one has begged me to be his baby’s mama! Why the guilt trip? Why the suggestion that the woman who asked for advice will be, in effect, letting her partner down? Hasn’t he simultaneously let her down by putting her in a position where she has to choose and failing to accept her standpoint? Why the suggestion of counselling? Why the overt suggestion that yes, she is in the wrong? What with all this emphasis on fertility a girl can’t help but think this is part of some evil government ploy to distract us women from thinking about all the injustices we face daily, and instead force us to develop an unnecessary preoccupation with our ovaries and menstrual cycles just so we can more-or-less be herded-up and forced into huge sheds like battery chickens, where the wolf-whistle of any passing mail is likely to make us drop a string of young uns without even blinking.

I don’t want children. A number of my female friends share my disinterest, but I don’t think we need to seek counselling. Why would we? Oh, because if you don’t want babies, apparently there is something wrong with you. And if you don’t want babies when your man is sensitive enough and considerate enough to selflessly offer-up his services to impregnate you, then sorry, my love, you are apparently past helping. Don’t worry if he’s replacing your birth control pills with tic-tacs, or has jabbed so many holes in your supply of condoms that you could use them as colliders, he just wants to be a father. This is a prevailing belief that probably has it’s genesis in gender archetypes as well as the identification of a psychological condition called Tokophobia, in 2000, which is simply defined as a fear of childbirth. Having read two articles here and here about Tokophobia, I can appreciate that this can be very distressing for diagnosed sufferers. Some women are scared of pregnancy or even the possibility of getting pregnant. Others cannot abide the idea of giving birth, so much so that the very idea provokes a panic attack. So what? Some women feel that they were born with the intention of giving birth, and yet they are not considered to be “malfunctioning” in any way, just because this is what we are supposed to do. Why, then, has the female psyche been pathologised in this way? Why does science always assess every woman against the desperate-for-children template? Why are women who feel strongly that they could not cope with pregnancy forced to take a label that basically implies that they are somehow anomalous for their sex, and as such are victims of a “psychological condition” for which they have to seek help and are forced to feel a shame so deep that they cannot speak about this openly? Why is there a continuous need for society and academia to categorise women in this sort of way - either as normal, wanting children, or abnormal, not wanting children? Why is it that the contents of our lower abdomens seem to be such a source of controversy? And is it not possible that the greatest problem women who are diagnosed with Tokophobia have is the lack of acceptance of their choices by wider soceity. Some of us want children. Some of us don’t. There's rarely more to it than that. It's about choice. Can it not just be as simple as that? And are the men who want to get us pregnant ever going to be worthy of credibility? Probably not. Have you ever been forced to try and get pregnant by a male partner? Or at least been subject to unnecessary pressure concerning the need to procreate? What do you think?

This is a reminder of the original post...

I am involved in a book project about women's sex lives in London, and we are currently asking women if they could complete quite a candid questionnaire about their intimate schenanigans. It consists of twenty short questions and you can maintain your anonymity if you wish. If you live in London, and think you would have time to do this, please e-mail me and I can send the questions to you straight away and tell you more about it. The only snag is that it needs to be completed as soon as possible, as in over the next couple of days if possible. But as I say, it's only very short. Both myself and the team I am working with would be very grateful for your help. Hope to hear from you!

I can provide more information about this is you e-mail me using the link above, and it would be grea to hear from you!

[I have disabled comments on this entry, as it's not a blog post in the usual F Word sense.]

Well, ok then! Those cheeky scamps over at Lagoon Games, probably realising that a large percentage of men and women are, at any one time, without a mate (no, not a friend, but rather someone they can bump uglies with, split a mortgage with, and eventually share the kids with on weekends), and are presumably then so socially obtuse they are sat at home, skulking around grubby websites, lurking in Internet chat rooms, desperately hoping to be felt-up by someone’s rogue cursor in the hope of getting some sort of cheap electronic thrill. Sexcellent.

There are two programmes available catering for those who would like an Internet boyfriend or girlfriend, and while I suppose they could feasibly be used by gay men and women, they seem to be designed exclusively for heterosexuals owing to the stereotypical relationship woes the blurb on the back of each CD bemoans. It’s for women who are “fed up with guys who don’t call” and “sick of boyfriends who don’t appreciate you for who you are,” and men who are “fed up with always making the first move”, and “sick of girlfriends trying to turn you into something you’re not.”

Firstly, I am always tentative about anything that draws on prevailing belief systems, just because such writing confirms archetypes as opposed to challenging them. Secondly, while I am a heterosexual woman, I can only assume that single gay/bisexual men and women would like the option of developing a relationship with a cyber man or women if they saw fit, or would at least like to be able to rest easy knowing that there was an industry also catering for their needs even if they do not want to make use of it.

So, what does this say about the perception of gay relationships? On the plus side it could mean that unlike us heterosexuals, it is not considered abhorrent to remain without a partner for a prolonged period of time, and it is generally accepted that you can function perfectly well on your own. You will not grow old and wither away from lack of sunlight. You will not supposedly develop cobwebs in your crotch area. You will not be considered a failure for still living alone at 35 and exploring your penchant for fine wine and dildos. On the other hand, the implications could be more sinister, suggesting that it is not as important for homosexual men and women to develop a personal attachment with another person, their relationships devalued by the pre-existing characterisation of the “gay scene” as superficial and promiscuous. Not only does this undermine the wants and desires of gay people who want a relationship, in the same way as some heterosexual singletons yearn for a partner, but suggests that it is not suitable for mainstream discussion.

Secondly, I wonder to what extent the promotion of purely fictional relationships (while a good laugh, and who doesn’t like a chuckle?) can generate unrealistic expectations of desirable partners, meaning that we are destined to be disappointed as unfortunately very few people are likely to meet someone who fits our personal stylised templates of what constitutes perfection. I attempted to create my own cyber stud yesterday (oh yes, no messing around with me) but the promises made are likely to leave me permanently stamping my feet in anticipation of more the next time I am in a relationship:

Once you’ve got your desired virtual love god, he will keep in touch via e-mail sending messages to make you feel adored. Then you can show off to all your single friends what a magnificent specimen you’ve managed to attract thanks to your charming personality and good looks, naturally…Never fear, at any point in the relationship you can ditch the guy and get on with your exciting life. Be prepared for begging messages though - virtual boyfriends have feelings to.

While I am the first to admit I enjoy getting new exciting e-mails of an afternoon (I bloody love it, in fact) I’m not entirely sure how I’d feel about receiving computer generated messages each day from someone who doesn’t exist. You are required to complete a questionnaire before you are allowed to get going, and are then matched to one of six possible lovely lads (the whole spectrum of personalities condensed down to just two multiplied by three!! Interesting). You will also get sent a photo and a screensaver so you can show your beau off to your colleagues, friends and family members, should you feel the need. Although I think a big problem with this is that it promotes the idea that relationships are good competitive fodder, and that in order to have validation of your “personality and good looks” you have to be in a partnership. I have both (yes, yes Abby, some may say you do) and have been single for so long that my girly bits are likely to blush and giggle the next time she encounters a man in a mutual state of undress, but hey, as a wise woman once said; “I don’t need no man to take care of me.” Double negative aside, the essence of the sentiment is sound.

There’s an 18+ age limit on this software, so presumably these love notes can be of an, ahem, saucy adult nature at times, which is not problematic should the object of your affection actually exist, but who wants to invest time and energy and emotions into replying to these faux sentiments, knowing that in reality you’re probably being sent messages from discontent employees working in a stuffy office having a set quota of desperados to respond to each day. Everyone probably gets the same message telling them how much they want to get laid, or the likes, and the sad thing is that, understandably, I can imagine some people yearning so much for that form of intimate connection that they will become dependent on this to feel valued, which, while probably not typical of all users, is damaging for the small percentage who do have tendencies to easily develop emotional attachments. You can have more than one Internet boyfriend but, there’s a warning, since “you have your reputation to think about, after all…” So there you go then. Being a slut is bad, but whoring yourself out online is also apparently a big no-no! When can we put it around?

I’ve not tried the Instant Internet Girlfriend programme yet, but if anyone out there has I’d be interested to know what you think about it. This is not hugely offensive, and it’s not likely it’ll cultivate a nation of e-mail addicted emotional time-bombs (and I did find it quite funny in parts and would recommend it for a bloody good laugh alone). I did wonder if it’s very existence was representative of larger social problems, which were worth getting out there, so cosider it done. Big deal over nothing, or trivia to be ignored?

[Edit: my bad maths has now been rectified! Yep, 2 to the power 3 is 8!duh!hehe]

I’m not. I’ve seen the advert for the show on MTV a couple of times, featuring Best, walking around some exotic beach as a self-elevated muff magnet, rebuffing approaches from beautiful, bikini-clad babes who we are led to believe are so super aroused at the sight of Best that they are more or less willing him to do them there and then. In short, the premise of this programme is vile and repulsive. Best, who supposedly has women literally falling at his feet, is going to resist, yes, resist as “best” he can (like that MTV?), in order to try challenge his public persona as a vacuous man who uses women for sex. The girls are semi-naked showcasing beautiful bodies toned within an inch of their lives in stark contrast to Best’s shorts and t-shirt combination. The implication is that the women have to be stripped to their scanites in order for their desirability to be apparent and for them to be considered attractive enough for Best (presumably making it more difficult for him to refrain). How arrogant! Am I the only one quite sceptical about Best getting this much female attention? The suggestion that women around the World are being somehow deprived of this man is, surely, completely and utterly unfounded?!

As well as portraying women as nothing more than sexual commodities, with an inability to resist any man who falls loosely into the category of celebrity, this also promotes negative stereotypes of heterosexual men, endorsing the idea that they view women as an unidentifiable mass of vaginas waiting to be penetrated. I’ve not seen the programme, so this is what I have been able to glean from advertising, but does anyone else find this show offensive?

[Edit: It would seem that maybe I was a day too keen with this post. There's an interview with Best in the Obsever today, in which he admits what he wants from the show - to relaunch himself as an actor.]

So, there we go then. You’re sad. You’re pathetic. You’re unloved and unwanted in equal measures. There’s a “musty smell in your flat because you spend far too much time in it,” and “absolutely nobody in the world gives a toss about you, but, never mind, you’ve won the lottery of life.” Those who claim differently are either too proud to admit the fact they are crying on the inside, or worse still are trying to convince themselves that their lives are not completely meaningless without a partner. Marsh goes on to explain:

Connected to this syndrome is another unacknowledged truth: that a lot of single people are mad. Some of them are single because they are mad. They tack uplifting quotes to their bedroom walls; they try to allure the attached away from their beloved with promises of a fabulous new life in which no one ever need share a tube of toothpaste again. They begin to excel in those activities that are traditionally dominated by the singleton culture, stalking and conspiracy theorising.

Not only are single people weridos, then, but they also actively try to infect otherwise normal couples with this anti-social malign. Further still, single people are apparently socially inept, driven mad by their inability to forge an intimate relationship. Marsh not only fails to realise that the vast majority of us do not need a partner to validate our status as well-adjusted and worthwhile members of society, but that many single people have actually made an active choice not to be attached.

While Marsh is entitled to her opinion, and to write about her subjective experiences in order to illustrate her arguments, it’s unfair for her to make generic assumptions on a faction of people because of her own feelings of inadequacy. All she has done is perpetuate negative stereotypes about single life, specifically about single women (because she is one), which do nothing but undermine personal life choices. Yes, some people can be despondent with single life, and yearn for the emotional connection with another person that comes with a relationship, but others enjoy the freedoms that so-called solitude can elicit. Despite Marsh’s claims, being single does not necessarily isolate an individual from civilisation, and the vast majority have a strong network of family and friends whose company they can enjoy as and when they please. There are both positive and negative aspects to being attached and single, and neither choice should be berated and elevated above another. It's about choice, and neither should be negated.

What’s perhaps most interesting about this is that it’s a topic spoken about in the main by women. While probably not unheard of, I personally have never read a comparable comment piece by a man, with the malady of single life portrayed by the media as being something that primarily affects women. Or rather, something that reflects most negatively on the female of the species. Being single is less of a taboo for a man than for a woman, but why? Is it because we women should all be aspiring to get paired up as quickly as possible so that we are having sex within a committed relationship, whereas it’s ok for men to spread their seed like deranged sprinklers and shag whoever they want? Is this why there is less pressure on men to pair up?

The vast majority of my female friends are single, and they lead active, full, interesting and sexually fulfilling lives. Unlike Marsh, they don’t consider this as symptomatic of their own personal failings and incapabilities, but rather see their single status as an opportunity to explore their own wants and needs, and a time to figure out what it is that they actually want. They are not maudlin. They do not sit in musty flats in dirty underwear waiting for some handsome night to turn up and whisk them away to a world of perfectly mowed lawns, home baking and picket fences. In fact, by comparison, it is my male friends who find single life more difficult to adapt to when they end relationships. But maybe these gender stereotypes are mutually damaging? While, for the most part, women are encouraged to revel in their single-ness and still feel confident, men are not provided with the same support network. This is because it is always assumed that men have some sort of predisposed aversion to emotional attachments, and much rather prefer the casual sex and variety that can characterise single life. This may be true, but it's not something confined to the male sex: women can and do feel the same way. But does this mean, then, that single men feel disempowered to express their feelings, ashamed of their perceived “neediness,” and so have to internalise these feelings since they do not have a platform to express it? While most women can rely on friends, do men feel comfortable speaking about this loneliness with male counterparts, or have these feelings ironically been “feminised” to such an extent that men feel emasculated doing so? The press needs to stop representing single life as a female problem, because it is neither a difficulty nor isolated to women. Some people are happy being single, some people are not. What's so difficult to understand?

So, generally, who do you think can adjust to single life more successfully? Men or women? Do you think it needs to stop being considered in terms of gender? And to what extent do you think prevailing belief systems precipitate these difficulties?

Probably not. But, let's hope so anyway, and if nothing else it’s provided a perfect opportunity to talk about the need for women to become attuned to the sexual needs of their bodies (should they feel the inclination) through some good old hearty flicking of the bean. According to the 2008 Orgasm Survey nearly half of all women are not orgasaming, with 46 per cent of those questioned rarely or never experiencing a vaginal orgasm through penetrative sex. It’s frustrating, no? And the results of this survey, which is ongoing and can be completed online, are very interesting. But there was also some good news: 85 per cent of ladies claimed to come regularly through self-stimulation, with one woman’s comments confirming the benefits of onanism:

Until I bought a vibrator I had never had an orgasm of any kind. At the grand old age of 43 it came as quite a shock!

Lovely stuff. I’ve read advice espoused by well-known sexologist Tracey Cox, actively encouraging women to forage around in their nether regions, with those who do so once a day apparently heightening their sensitivity to such an extent that they will be more likely to come during sex. However, here’s the warning, she also claims that playing with yourself three or more times a day can actually have the opposite affect, meaning that it’s less likely sex will be as pleasurable as it could be. So, the message is simple: be kind to your clit, but don't smother her. But it’s hard to get a balance, no? Especially since it is a universally acknowledged fact that the more you do it (sex included), the more you want it. Like gorging on chocolate, I guess, but without getting the fillings. Sadly.

But, confession time: I don’t own any sex toys. I’ve just never bought one, despite all the good press they get, the bashful part of me flushes red at the thought of rolling into a store on the high-street and leaving with a big fluorescent vibe in hand. It’s childish, I guess, and probably also tantamount to self-abuse, since I’d probably put a rabbit to some seriously good use. But, what’s the general consensus? Do you own any sex toys? Where do you buy them from? Can you ever have enough? And what toys would you recommend to help a woman get off? What’s your favourite? Any tips for making that first purchase a successful one would be very welcome!

Let’s try and make every day National Orgasm Day. Here’s hoping you have a good one. Happy coming, everyone. Ohhh Yeeesssssss……….

[I have disabled comments on this entry, as it's not a blog post in the usual F Word sense.]

But one day Hefty (possibly on a sugar high) thinks enough of this shit, I’m going to fulfil my tooth-fairy destiny and fly my fat ass into some kid’s bedroom, take his or her baby teeth in exchange for this twenty-pence piece that I conveniently found while on a dutiful biscuit-run into the hidden wood. She gets the tooth, looses it, and is berated by the other fairies as a liar during an unsuccessful attempt to ingratiate herself with her slender colleagues. But, there’s a twist. The fairy queen finds the tooth, sparking a number of clandestine conversations between herself and Hefty, leading to the dramatic climax of the story where Hefty realises that she is “just as good as the other fairies” despite not conforming to expectations as to what she should look like in fairy-land.

This is a fantastic book and I love it just as much now as I did then. It simplifies the idea of social exclusion, making it accessible and digestible for a young readership, while at the same time challenging prevailing beliefs that appearances are accurately reflective of ability. Being an overweight five-year-old girl acutely aware thanks to classmates that I did not look like them, I enjoyed reading a book that not only explored issues emanating from being fat, but that also centralised a portly fairy as the main character. Yes, fairies are mythical creatures, but at the same time they are more often than not gendered female and considered the archetypal manifestation of feminine beauty. As a little girl this was important to me. I wanted to be a pretty fairy, or at least wanted to think that I could be. The illustrations are effective and sensitive, and while Hefty is considerably larger than her slight counterparts she is nonetheless attractive, and in many ways is more so owing to the fact she is the only character that is physically distinct. This book, both inspiring and empowering, helped foster a sense of confidence in my own ability from a young age, at the same time as permeating my child-consciousness with the idea that if a person is ridiculed for not looking a specific way this is more symptomatic of problems inherent in society rather than the fault of the individual in question.

Allan does not champion fatness and childhood obesity, since Hefty’s rotund gut does impinge on her flying capabilities after all, but he stresses that she does not have to forfeit her dreams and ambitions because of this, and that she should not be considered any less valuable to the community. It sends an important message to plump little girls that whether they are hefty or not, they can still be beautiful and capable, and to thin little girls not to make assumptions about the abilities of others based on superficialities. While I can appreciate arguments that one should not be defined by physical differences, unfortunately whether this is right or not, it does happen, and it’s more realistic, and likely to be more effective, if we accept this and celebrate inconsistencies rather than denying them. I have friends with red hair who have the “ginger” prefix added to their names to describe them, and I know that when providing a generic description of me, my nearest and dearest would have no option but to make reference to my weight. It is, unquestionably, one of my defining physical characteristics, and to omit it would be to suggest there is something abhorrent about that. So what? There is no malice intended, the word fat like thin is essentially an empty adjective and it’s only the meaning with which is has been invested that has morphed it into a verbal bullet shot with spiteful intent. The default reaction (understandably) to being called ‘fat’ is also to take offence, and this unfortunately perpetuates the problem, with “fattists” and “fat-sympathisers” both feeding into and from the generated distaste, mutually adopting an insulted and insulting stance with the majority not thinking to ask what “fatties” like me actually think. Personally, I describe myself as fat and have no problem with the word, and while I can understand those who are hurt by tubby taunts surely anyone who would take recourse to a superficial physical insult in order to bolster an argument has lost any credibility from the outset? But let’s not assume that the word fat is bandied around as an insult and an insult only, because to believe this makes it so.

The movie Phat Girlz, released in 2006, while for an adult audience, draws on similar themes to those explored throughout The Hefty Fairy. At the end of the film the heroine (a sales assistant and aspiring fashion designer, Jazmine Biltmore), not only enters a fulfilling relationship with a man she is overwhelmingly sexually and emotionally enamoured with, but also lands a contract to produce a plus-size clothing line for a fashion conglomerate. While saccharine sweet in parts, Biltmore overcomes lapses in confidence and a preoccupation with her weight fostered by years of verbal abuse, to get what she wants regardless of both her size and her dissenters. It’s a feel-good movie, and Jazmine, initially consumed by self-loathing, begins to embrace her curves and wobbly bits as she realises that the disdain she elicits is not the result of causing genuine disgust but owing to socially constructed ideas of what makes a woman beautiful (making them essentially fallible). Despite a few scenes overly criticising women for being thin (which is equally unacceptable), by the end of the film the word fat is one to embrace, reiterated by the pun in the title.

My feelings on this subject were consolidated recently with the release of a new game for the playstation 3, titled Fat Princess. The premise of this game is simple: a “beloved princess” is being kept captive by your enemy in a dungeon, and you must rescue her by building a number of bridges or forts, or whatever is needed to infiltrate hostile defences. However, this is not a simple rescue-the-girl mission; the opposition is plumping-up the princess with cake and cookies and a collection of other calorific goodies all probably covered in batter. The longer she is imprisoned, the more difficult it will be to haul her out of the castle to safety and it’s likely to take “most of your army working together to carry her back across the battlefield.” I’m not a gamer, and the last time I fondled a console Mario was eating magic mushrooms, while Sonic and Tails scrambled over a couple of golden rings, but my initial reaction was not to condemn this game out of hand for confirming outdated fat stereotypes because I don’t think it does. I thought that it sounded…well…fun. But this game has not been welcomed by a faction of bloggers, an example of which here showing the extent to which it has been accused of perpetuating prejudices against fat women.

Firstly, the female character is not described as a “fat monster,” a “fat wilderbeast” or a “fat minger,” but rather as a “fat princess.” I don’t think the title is derogatory, and is tame considering the strength of insults that are commonly levied against overweight women. If I were a princess, I would be a fat one. Fat is a description usually juxtaposed with words such as lazy and ugly, (and all the lard-arsed assumptions that come with that), and so in this respect this game does not fall into the trap of endorsing socially construed prejudices. While this fictional woman is only defined by one aspect of her appearance, there are no aspersions cast on her attractiveness or characteristics owing to the fact she does not conform to stereotypical ideas of what a princess should look like (thin), and she is also not denied the regal title because of it. Secondly, she is considered important enough for a whole army to be deployed with the intention of saving her, despite compromising their own safety. There is no suggestion that she should be left to flounder, collapsing under her own weight and flailing like an overturned beetle as a “drain” on the nations’ resources. She, a fat woman, is central to the entire plot of the game, and frankly I quite like it. She is not generically beautiful, in fact she is the antithesis to all pre-conceived ideas of beauty, and while the game could be criticised for its endorsement of traditional fairytale gendering - the damsel in distress being so disempowered to have jurisdiction over her own destiny that she has to rely on valiant men to save her - it does subvert the idea that only the conventionally aesthetically pleasing are worth rescuing.

While it is not stated explicitly, from what I have been able to piece together about the game, both the captures and the saviours are represented by male avatars. This is perhaps the most offensive aspect of the game because it assumes that men can have autonomous control over what a woman is eating, and as a result control over her appearance. It is also suggested that this can be controlled as a form of punishment. This is complimentary to neither men nor women, but what it does do is draw on modern cultures’ preoccupation with the obese to provide entertainment and present a humorous extreme (albeit not to all people’s tastes). We are regularly bombarded with programmes about fat men, fat women and fat children who are forced to more or less jump through hoops like circus freaks in order to shave a few inches off their waistlines, and generally we love it. If that wasn’t the case TV channels wouldn’t be littered with reality programmes of this nature on a daily basis, and for some reason watching someone’s jaw drop at the realisation that their monstrous weight could result in chalking up a few points on the richter scale should they fart in the wrong direction somehow sates our desire for entertainment. “Feeder” is a term that has entered our vocabulary, introduced by the popularity of television coverage of men who achieve sexual gratification from more-or-less force feeding their partner’s to the point that their guts are practically bursting out of tracing-paper skin, with the women conceding to all orders to eat, eat, eat with sad teeth-grinding determination. We are fascinated by these programmes because we cannot understand why someone would actively pursue a transgressive body-type, and then champion it as attractive. This is an unfortunate phenomenon, but it does happen, and because we find it so compelling gastro-vision continues to dominate our televisual experiences.

It is a scientific fact that if we over-indulge in fatty foods we will gain weight, that is medically accurate, and while there is nothing wrong with being overweight, it is not desirable for health-reasons, and so can Fat Princess not be interpreted as a fair warning about the dangers of eating too much of the wrong foods? And is it fare to accuse Sony of reinforcing negative body attitudes when they are just capitalising on something that is a part of reality and does sell (and sells because we have created a market for it)? Would it not be beneficial to address the reasons why we are preoccupied with self-perfection and weight-control rather than something that is symptomatic of this? After all, Fat Princess represents a fictional world, and any tenuous links to reality are consolidated by our own expectations and pre-existing beliefs.

Had the title been Fat Prince would it have elicited comparable negativity? And would it have been as controversial and popular at one and the same time? I don’t believe so. This is because the idea of a woman enticing a man to stuff his face with pies in order to get herself hot is totally alien to us, and as such would be too far away from our own reality to be in any way engaging. We have also been socially conditioned to believe that appearance is far more important to women than to men (whether this is true or not is questionable), so the thought of a man being fed to morbid obesity does not have the same anticipated consequences because the aesthetic ramifications would be considered negligible. Super Mario, a gaming icon for almost as long as gaming has been established, is a fat plumber. He is a fat plumber of Italian origin who, if the film is to be believed, has emigrated to the US. So, what do we have here? If we analysed deeply enough then we could probably draw on racism, social prejudices, body fascism and class presumptions all manifest in one moustachioed little cartoon character. Sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? That’s because it is. There was no offence intended here but, then again, no-one has been that bothered about poor Mario to question his constitution. Presumably because in reality he’d be riding Yoshi all the way to the bank but, oh yes, like the Fat Princess, he does not actually exist outside of the pixelated world anyway.

But, as always, I’d be interested to know: what do you think? Do we invest media such as this with more importance than necessary, and in doing so ironically validate its influence? Or do you think the Fat Princess is a problem? Is this an example of political correctness working to an unnecessary extreme to the detriment of good old-fashioned fun? Or should Sony consider taking the game off the market? And if so where would this sort of censorship stop? And how would that action be justified without the explicit implication that there’s something wrong with being over-weight? Does a preoccupation with reports like this distract us from more important issues affecting women?

Whether you have casual sex or not, I am going to assume that it’s unlikely (unless you are devoutly religious) that you would disapprove of consenting adults safely playing with each others genitals. However, according to this article, if you are female and want to behave this way, you are disingenuous simply because science claims that “evolution has not adapted women to having casual sex.” So, there you go then. Consider yourselves told. You thought you were enjoying all that no-strings bumping uglies, but you were mistaken. You thought you were liberated and satisfied, when in actual fact what you really felt was “used” and “regretful.” Surprised, huh? Or rather frustrated that science has supposedly found a way to confirm one of the biggest taboos of the modern woman’s life - that of so-called “promiscuity?” Promiscuity is largely a derogatory term, and the preferred nomenclature for those who want to use a more refined word to criticise a woman for her “whoring” - that is for committing the crime of having more than one sexual partner and speaking openly about her intimate experiences. It is not synonymous with casual sex. It’s outdated and it’s unfair, but unfortunately those of us who choose to act this way are still berated for our behaviour and considered morally corrupt for doing nothing more than recognising our personal desires and endeavouring to avidly sate them.

So, who says otherwise? Professor Anne Campbell of Durham University, who collated the information for her study (which has been published in the journal of Human Nature), through online investigations:

An internet survey of 1,743 men and women who have had one-night stands found that 80 per cent of the men had positive feelings about it, feeling greater sexual satisfaction and contentment, plus a greater sense of well-being. Only 54 per cent of women felt the same way.

Firstly, we are not told the ratio of men to women who were questioned, and secondly this is too small a sample of the population to accurately confirm the sweeping statement that “men like casual sex more than women.” Also, the reliability of these results is severely hampered by virtue of the fact they were reaped online; was there any way of determining whether the questions were answered by men or women, or was it assumed that each person who participated was rightly declaring their gender? Since such inconsistencies could seriously disrupt the balance of results. Also, to what extent did the research consider prevailing sexual attitudes? As women we are told that traditionally we are not supposed to have a number of sexual partners, and that to do so is “shameful.” Therefore, is it not possible that when faced with a number of penetrative questions asking us to declare our feelings about something that we are told we are not supposed to do that we are naturally going to feign upset, in order to seemingly repent our perceived transgressive behaviour? Is this not an example of self-preservation - saying we are guilty in the hope that this will reduce the severity of judgement levied against us? So what if that was the best shag I ever had and it made me feel fantastic, I’ll claim to feel like absolute shit so that they’ll all think I’m really a ‘good girl’ underneath my fishnets, and that’ll be the end of that.

Men are not expected to adhere to a rigid criterion of sexual etiquette in the same way, and therefore can be honest about their experiences because they are less likely to be lambasted for saying they like a quick emotionless lay. However, with this there is also a certain amount of pressure. Traditionally the male of the species is supposedly predisposed to enjoying a good fuck without the “burden” of a relationship, and it is anticipated that they should actively be pursuing a number of women for the sole purposes of sex in order to be deemed a healthy red-blooded male. Therefore, is it not also possible that those men who felt “used” and “regretful” after their one-night stands to similarly take recourse to self-preservation and claim that they enjoyed every second of meaningless sex just because they think that’s what they are supposed to feel like? Whereas a woman is considered less “ladylike,” “proper” and “feminine” for having sex outside of relationships and enjoying everything that comes with “emotional disconnectedness,” men are ridiculed for wanting to have sex for love and emasculated by their admittance of feeling “empty” and “dead” after a random fuck. What studies like this do is disempower women to make their own lifestyle choices and decisions free of judgement, at the same time as confirming unrealistic gender stereotypes.

Professor Campbell offers justification for why she tells us (women) that we (women) don’t like casual sex:

In evolutionary terms women bear the brunt of parental care and it has been thought that it was to their advantage to choose their mate carefully and remain faithful to ensure their mate had no reason to believe he was raising another man's child.

Maybe when we were all running around wearing loin clothes and tearing chunks of flesh from the sides of cows with our bare teeth this was the case, but presumably in the western world where contraception and sex education is readily accessible we are no longer slaves to our reproductive systems. While procreation can be the result of sex if precautionary measures are not taken, a large percentage of people enjoy rolling around naked with a partner in order to orgasm, not to make plans to get a people carrier for weekends away in Legoland. The introduction of condoms and the contraceptive pill means that we now have greater control over our bodies and can thoroughly enjoy sex for sex’s sake rather than for the sole purpose of squeezing out babies (if we don’t want to). It’s unfair that our sexual desires are always assessed against a man’s behaviour, and what this study has allegedly confirmed is that we don’t enjoy casual sex because, in a nut shell, we don’t think men would approve. And we don’t think men would want to be the fathers of our babies if we enjoyed said casual sex. Sounds pretty ludicrous, doesn't it?

I understand that casual sex is not for everyone, but men and women can become equally disillusioned with it. The subtext to all conversations I have had about this is the belief that women’s emotions are so entwined with their sexual experiences that we are not able to mentally cope with being “used” in this way, although the assumption that women are always positioned in a submissive, victim role in such scenarios undermines our abilities to judge our own limitations as well as our determination to achieve our own sexual fantasies. Why is it that the woman is always described as being “used” when she could equally be the “user?” Or rather maybe the people actually involved are mature enough to not see this as a power struggle but as something that find mutually gratifying?

I don’t have casual sex, but I would not rule it out as an option in the future should I feel the need, and should I feel that personally it was the right thing for me to do. Owing to my own personal belief systems about sex I’m not entirely sure that it would be the rbest thing for me at the moment, but I do greatly admire the women who have the confidence to take what they want sexually, because why shouldn’t they? I have friends who thoroughly enjoy the freedom the comes with getting what you want without a partner, and surely this is exactly what feminism is all about? To each their own and, after all, you get the physical part of a relationship without the mind games, jealousy and paranoia that often comes with long-term commitment, and so it should be enjoyed while it lasts. It would be nice to reach a stage, however, where we are free to make our decisions without judgement and without society presupposing how we feel about it. It’s just a shame that society still sees fit to judge women for not emulating the behavior of men (because why is it that social acceptance of male sexual freedoms should then make it, by default, something rightly reserved for their sex only), but rather for doing what gives them pleasure, but hopefully as more and more women speak candidly about their one-night stands and shag partners, then this redundant attitude will begin to change. Whose taboo is it anyway? Certainly not that of the vast majority of women I know.

When the late, great Hunter S Thompson said that “reality is more twisted than fiction” he could not have been more accurate. Imagine a world in which dandruff flakes could be used to cultivate a living human embryo before implanting it into the dusty old uterus of a woman approaching her centennial year. Imagine then that this technology was readily available on the NHS, with the streets filled with waning prune-faced pensioners pushing prams filled with babies made of geriatric skin. Sounds like the synopsis of a lurid work of science fiction doesn’t it? Well, sadly it’s not, and such a reality is only 30 years away, according to a recent article championing the “progressiveness” of science in its determination to extend female fertility.

Advances in germ cell technology mean that it will soon be possible to use skin cells to make sperm and egg cells, which can then be combined to create a human embryo. While allowing women the opportunity to have a baby at any time during their lives, it is also anticipated that treatments using skin cells (known as induced pluripotent stem cells) could replace IVF, allowing parents to have a “designer baby” by specifying the physical characteristics they want their offspring to inherit. Although I understand that this could have some benefits - removing the possibility of a child inheriting a genetic condition or abnormality - should the use of this treatment be condoned in the pursuit of an aesthetic ideal? Or does this reiterate the idea that a baby has become a commodity, something reflective of a couple’s success and genetic supremacy, and as such, like a pair of Manola Blanhiks, would-be parents want the best that their money can buy? It’s unfortunate that the desire for self-perfection has now extended so far that scientists has now seen a niche in the baby-making market to offer the brightest eyes and the rosiest cheeks, and it won’t be long before private clinics are competing for customers, offering two-for-one deals on matching Arian boys and girls, one womb, twice the love…etc…. (Am I the only one to have found the recent spate of twin-births (one girl, one boy) in Hollywood slightly suspicious?) Of course, in an ideal world this technology could be used for the greater good, but unfortunately it will be open to abuse by those in pursuit of the perfect “handbag baby” to complement their perfect lifestyles at the perfect time for them.

Plus, (not to sugar-coat the truth), there is something morally repugnant about the idea of impregnating a 100-year-old woman, and why is it that science has seen fit to force something on which nature has put a time limit? It’s not that science is a bad thing. It has offered cures for illnesses, or at least means to control and/or alleviate symptoms of diseases that would have previously left sufferers incapacitated or dead, and while in this respect it has been used to help a body that is essentially ‘out-of-order,’ why does it see fit to then offer a ‘solution’ to a problem that does not exist? A woman of 100 is not infertile because nature has been unkind to her, but because physically she could not nurture a child, nor offer the same sort of support that a younger mother could - her body is doing what it should be by stopping her from getting pregnant. It’s also very unlikely that she would live long enough to provide the care an infant and young child needs. Yes, anyone, whatever age, could step outside one day and get knocked over by a bus, but surely for a woman this age the blocks of mortality are stocked much higher against her threatening to crush her at any moment when they fall? Chance is one thing, but that we are humans and biologically destined to what our body fall in to a state of disrepair and expire is a fact.

I wrote a post on this subject a few months ago. This is not ageism but surely, while women do want to have more control over their fertility, anyone, man or woman, should seriously reconsider their plans to procreate once they have reached a certain age. I appreciate that this age can fluctuate significantly from one woman to the next, owing to a combination of career plans, lifestyle choices, relationship status and health. Some women are also genetically predisposed to remaining fertile for longer. It’s not unusual for some women to experience the menopause in their late thirties (or even sooner) and others not until they are in their fifties (or later). Plus, a woman in her late thirties/early forties may be considerably healthier than a woman in her early twenties, and therefore her body equipped to cope with pregnancy better. I understand that for every idea or rule there is an exception, and also that the individual is empowered to make their own life choices, but I can’t understand why anyone would either want a baby at that age, or encourage a woman to do so. Just because science could offer the means we should not take advantage of it.

I hurried home chased by muffled laughs and not-so-witty retorts that I struggled to decipher owing to the fact that I wanted to get away from them as quick as possible. It was embarrassing. I was embarrassed, even though I had done nothing to warrant this negative attention nor directed crass and inappropriate language at a complete stranger for just walking down the street. And while it would not have mattered if these had been three of the most aesthetically pleasing, generically attractive men ever to stalk the earth, what bothered me was the fact they felt they could slight my appearance in such a coarse, base manner, as if should they have all decided they were “desperate” enough to “fuck that,” that I would have stripped off there and then, lay back and spread my legs as if grateful for the favour. But later that evening, and in the days proceeding, I didn’t think about this once. It’s not that I thought it was acceptable, nor because it didn’t bother me (I felt extremely uncomfortable, intimidated and vulnerable), but because I have subconsciously come to accept this as part of the normal daily routine. I no longer see this as behaviour directed at me personally, but rather a part of a much greater malign directed at women in general, and something that we have no choice but to suffer. But I don’t want to feel like this, and having considered all the instances I have been subject to this treatment, am I angry.

I’ve been the recipient of more offensive comments, worsened by the fact those men felt they had a right to be tactile with me and touch parts of my body I’d rather leave untouched, thanks. I’m not the only one to be the subject of this sort of behaviour, with the response to my blog post last year and more recently the phenomenal reaction to the lovely Laura Woodhouse’s piece, showing that street harassment is still a part of most women’s reality. On more than one occasion I’ve been walking home, with cars filled with what I assume to be teenage boys speeding past as they shout “slag” at me. This happens. Yet, when anything is written on the subject it’s not unusual for men to wade in wearing prickly shoes and claiming that this does not happen, just because they are not guilty of the behaviour themselves. It is this attitude and the failure of society as a whole to recognise that this is a problem that prevents anything being done about it, and I set up a specific blog to discuss this last year. I can only put up posts when people e-mail me their experiences, and if this is something you would like to contribute to, please do not hesitate to let me know as I think talking about it is a way to help breakdown the belief that the person subject to taunts is in any way responsible for their treatment.

But all in all, I think the sheer denial by many of the difficulties faced by a lot of women everyday when doing nothing more than walking to work, is what precipitated my ambivalent feelings towards this story. Female students at a college in Kent were sent an email from the higher echelons threatening disciplinary action should they continue to indulge in “totally unacceptable” behaviour by wolf-whistling at builders who had started work on the campus. The students were informed that this behaviour “constitutes harassment,” with a spokesperson for the contractors claiming “we do not condone inappropriate behaviour from any parties on our sites.” While I accept that this could distract the men from their work, I am almost 100 per cent sure that getting wolf-whistled at by a girl in school uniform, thought uncomfortable, would not have physically threatened or intimidated them in any way. They would not have felt their physical safety compromised, unlike a young girl walking past a group of rowdy workmen who feel it’s necessary to comment on the size of her chest. No-one, man or woman, should be made to feel awkward or embarrassed because of their sex, but considering most women are frequently subject to considerably lewder comments it’s farcical that this story should make it into a national newspaper. A man being wolf-whistled at by a woman is in no way comparable to a woman being asked for a blowjob by a random man, primarily because biologically men are stronger, and men can always violate a woman’s body. The only reason I can fathom to justify the existence of this report is because it is such a rarity for men to complain in this way that it was considered newsworthy. That women, getting touched up and confronted with a barrage of filth on the tube, in a club or even when walking home on the street, is not featured is probably testament to the fact that it happens so often that people have a complete disinterest in reading about it - it’s just part of being a woman.

The most interesting aspect of this article are the end statements claiming that a new Sexual Offences Bill in Scotland could see individuals punished for up to ten years for “communicating indecently,” with the new law intended to punish sexual harassment via text, e-mail and letters, and also “sexually explicit comments to strangers.” While the law would only punish persistent offenders, is it not absolutely ridiculous that in order to encourage individuals to treat people they don’t know with a modicum of decency and respect that a law has to be implemented threatening a custodial sentence? But is this the answer? Should similar laws be introduced in England and Wales to “punish” men who lack the social etiquette to realise that asking a woman to sit on their face as she walks home is not the correct way to behave? Or would such a law be subject to abuse? While street harassment is getting completely and utterly out of control, how would such a system be regulated? And in all honesty, considering how difficult it is for a woman who has been raped to get any sort of justice in a court of law, how likely is it that we would get the desired result since we have not, in fact, been severely physically violated? Plus, as is always the case, it’s likely the minutest detail of our sexual lives and dress sense would be dissected beforehand to find the reasons why we had been spoken to in such a manner - because, of course, it is always the fault of the victim. So what’s the answer?

Type ‘Gwyneth Paltrow no make-up’ into Google and you will be met with pages of reactions from around the blogosphere, many berating Gwynnie for her perceived faux pas and equating her decision with a downward turn in her career. But what’s the message here? Do we have to paint our faces in order to be perceived as successful? I wrote a blog post on this subject last year, and yesterday was asked to speak on the Victoria Derbyshire show on BBC Radio Five along with The Times journalist, Sarah Vine, who was “irritated” by Paltrow’s decision.

But what is the big deal about make-up? While I understand that many women feel considerably more confident when wearing make-up (it is, after all, like a mask), perhaps what needs to be addressed are the reasons why women feel they need to cover-up their perceived “imperfections” to begin with? That Paltrow, a woman whose face and appearance have been a commodity, felt comfortable enough to defy Hollywood convention in this way is refreshing in a celebrity world where vanity reigns supreme and airbrushing is considered as vital to survival as breathing air. She is not flawless. Her skin is not perfect. She has wrinkles. And yet she is still attractive precisely because she is real.

Personally, I rarely wear make-up, and only do so on special occasions or when going out in the evening time, not because of an inner compulsion but because I know that it’s expected of me to do so. If I don’t, I’m not seen as having made an effort, or having pride in my appearance. What’s wrong with me for not wanting to ‘make myself look pretty?’ Once we reach a certain age we are expected to adhere to a carefully delineated set of criterion that outlines the way women should look, and if we deviate from the widely conceived norms then we are automatically denied our femininity. I don’t have perfect skin. I am not beautiful. I’m probably less than average and I’m not confident about the way I look, but I am also not prepared to become slave to a band-aid beauty regime that offers no permanent solution to self-esteem issues, which ironically makes me feel more confident in itself.

Make-up does not change the person underneath, and I do not want to develop a dependency on it to such an extent that my daily machinations are orchestrated around throwing on the slap in the morning and frequent touch-ups. Friends and family members are caught in this cycle, convinced that their relationships hinge on the fact their partners believe that their eyelashes really are that dark and voluminous, and their lips really are that red and luscious, to such an extent that they are afraid to bare their pasty faces for fear of ending up alone. Of course, this is not true, but as women every facet of our lives have become so entwined with the way that we look that it’s understandably why some women can’t even leave the house without putting their foundation on with a trowel.

Surprisingly, as I have got older I feel more comfortable in my own skin, and I think this is partly because I have accepted that make-up or not I’ll never look the way I would like to, but so what? There are very few people who are completely happy with their appearance, it’s just unfortunate that society tells some women that this means that they are, in fact, physically repulsive, and have to do something about it.

In response to the Paltrow story, the Daily Mail offered a feature in which a Harley Street surgeon and celebrity make-up artist look at photographs of celebrity women - including Uma Thurman, Kate Moss and Gisele Bundchen, to name a few - both with and without make-up, offering critiques of their appearance, and reasons why they look so ‘awful’ without it. I don’t see a problem with them, and I’m sure a large percentage of women choose not to wear make-up regularly owing to the fact that they literally don’t have the time to preen themselves all day, so making this news does nothing but perpetuate the idea that if you don’t paint on your face you are inherently flawed as a woman.

But what do you think? Make-up or no make-up? Do you believe this is something that has an influence on the way you are perceived by the outside world, and the way you present yourself in it?

The responses are made at the personal discretion of the individual contributors, and there are no rules saying what can or cannot be said. But let us know what you think, we'd love to hear from you.

Dear F Word

Desperate Husband

Dear Desperate Husband

You have said that you have done a lot and see a sexy woman in your wife and I take your word for it. It is, in my view, a right attitude and is to be commended. If only more husbands were doing the same as you do!

You tried all the right things but haven’t mentioned two other important ones. First, you should try becoming more physically attractive for your wife too. I cannot help asking in response to your lament that she is “letting herself go”: are YOU letting YOURSELF go too? Because it is unfortunately far too often that husbands who grew gut and butt and went completely to seed still take it upon themselves to criticise their wives for no longer being the sexy 18 year old they fell in love with!

Make an extra effort in dressing up when you are going out together, try to look good at home too; buy some new clothes for yourself as well. She will notice this and will have an incentive to measure up too. But expecting her to do all the work on herself without doing the same yourself is neither fair nor productive. Looking good for her is also a very important way to show affection and respect for your partner. It shows that you care what she thinks of you. It means you care whether she finds you sexually attractive. (You shouldn’t assume that our partners’ looks are less important for us women than ours are for you. Honestly, I wouldn’t find my husband sexually attractive if he suddenly cut down on number of showers, wore old clothes, didn’t look after his hands, had less than fresh breath and didn’t know what aftershave is. Fortunately his love for me, and realisation that he is married to a woman 14 years younger than he is, keeps him on his toes)

Second, could it be that years of your sitting back and letting her do all the housework and caring for the kids aged her prematurely? It is known that women age and look worn out because they do far too much at home and their husbands don’t do enough. The women who take part in the program “10 years younger” look much older and more tired than their partners, who live on the same income and have the same diet. How come? Then you see this woman’s day: packing kids off to school, going to work, returning home to cook and clean and what does the hubby do? Off he pisses to a pub with mates or to play football, looking all cheerful and sprightly, and we are all invited to sympathize with his sexual needs not being met by an aged tired wife who hates her body! Little wonder then.

So if you don’t want her hands to look rough, do the washing up yourself. If you don’t want her to be too tired for sex, relieve her of the domestic slog. Give her time for herself - be it a walk, meeting with friends, or a visit to a hairdresser or a beauty salon - by doing yourself what she usually does at home. Honestly, the older a woman looks than her real age, the more it shows her husband’s selfishness! Men should be judged by the way how healthy or relaxed their wives look.

You mentioned money problems. It ages both partners and can sometimes undermine the relationship itself. If one of the partners is out of employment, it complicates the matters, and it is easy to be too harsh to a partner in this situation. The important thing to remember is to try not to take it out on another, and not to lump all problems together. As you went through bad times together, tell her that it is important to be defiant in the face of difficulties that life throws at you, at least by not giving up on yourself and not living like you were defeated. And not looking like one. Maybe your wife has other problems you didn’t mentioned, maybe there is something more painful in her life than ageing and loosing good looks. It is not to say that she shouldn’t try for you, it is to say that you should be understanding and subtle. Tell her that any age has beauty. Let her stop thinking (if she does) that once something happen (first wrinkle, tooth falling out, etc) this is the end. It is not.

It is good that after 17 years together and 3 children you are finding some time to spend together, like the time in Italy last year. Maybe the more time she spends with you the less she will think of herself as “just Mum” and will start seeing herself as an individual, a woman, a partner. As someone who has needs too and respects herself enough to care of her body and health.

Irina Lester

Photo by Stéfan, shared under a Creative Commons license

At the other end of the bar sits a man surrounded by ladies. He arrived with the blonde on the right, but is preoccupied with the brunette on the left while the little non-descript blonde strokes his chest and whispers to him. She fails to move him beyond nonchalance. He stares at the barmaid’s cleavage as she passes him his drink, grinning when she blushes and looks at him, embarrassed and horrified. He grins, refuses to look away and says nothing. He assumes she fancies him: he could have her if he wanted. If a woman has some flesh on show, it’s his right to look, of course. The other girls fawn over him, but when his mobile rings he stands-up, shakes them off like flakes of dandruff and takes it, no apologies or explanation offered. He has a lot of women, but is not in a relationship. He doesn’t want one woman no matter how much she begs him. He offers love sentiments like sweeties, saying what he needs in order to provoke the desired response to fellate his vanity. He’s good looking, or at least he thinks he is, and it shows. His self-assurance is compelling as much as it is repulsive. He picks up women and drops them like stones, but yet they ache for more.

So, you walk into this bar. Mr Nice Guy is still sat alone, reading the newspaper and pondering over 21 down, in a ploy to make himself look less like a loner and more like someone at ease in his own company. He’s not. Mr Bad Boy has returned, takes up his seat and finishes his drink offering nothing more than the claim of “business” as the young girls continue to paw and vie for his attention, while he’s completely preoccupied with the gorgeous young strumpet that’s just walked in (you!). What do you do? He smiles at you, you feel attractive, and yet can sense he’s callous, self—obsessed and likely to fuck you and chuck you (words he’d probably use if willing to speak openly) before you’ve had chance to catch your breath. If you had to, which one would you choose?

Now, forget the bar setting, and forget my (frankly) awful attempts at trying to epitomise this idea, but while the sensible, safe option would be to go with the crossword geek, why is it that the vast majority of us are still overwhelmingly attracted to the spiteful, vain, indifferent types who are likely to use us sexually, treat us badly and break our hearts? Not my words, the words of Mr Peter Jonason, Scientist at New Mexico State University in the United States. Well, maybe not his words exactly, but this is the essence of his argument, citing James Bond as the perfect example of the cad who gets the ladies:

He’s clearly disagreeable, very extroverted and likes trying new things - killing people, new women.

While Ian Fleming’s fictional creation makes for good viewing, let’s not forget that Bond is a character that exists on paper - in novels, film scripts - he is not real. And to list “killing people” as a throwaway interest that apparently enhances Bond’s sex appeal (although I know he does only kill the “baddies”), can’t really be used as a prototype for real life because if such a character were to exist, rolling around the UK, killing those with facial disfigurements, disabilities, penchants for cats and clear psychological disorders culminating in their desire to take over the World, then I’m sure, aside from the fact the recruitment process for the Civil Service would be brought into disrepute, he would be arrested. He would be considered a psychopath. (Plus, wasn’t his throaway babe attitude towards women and relationships fostered by the fact he was burned by a woman who betrayed him? Isn’t he just a man launching an assault on the female sex in order to prevent himself from getting hurt once again? And did this revelation make Bond less attractive?) I’ll stop being facetious and will try to look at this logically, and assess the attributes with which Bond is invested that can be transferred to the everyday man. OK, he’s independent, confident and saturated in self-belief. He’s a charmer, intelligent, and isn’t afraid to use violence if the situation presents itself, and always wins. If you were with Bond and some other cheeky young scamp tried to woo you or feel you up you know JB would have him by the nuts. While you’re with him and he wants you, he will treat you with respect, albeit superficially. He considers women as nothing more than disposable goods, while at the same time treating the one he is with as the most beautiful sensual thing ever to exist. Other women envy you when you’re with him, but can’t handle him themselves. Sounds good and bad, no? So what’s the problem? Well, he doesn’t really mean it. He is ruled by his desire to get laid, to conquer, to be the first to have the stand-offish stunning woman who everyone wants but only a few will get. Is it true that we want strong men, men who will take what they want when they want it? Do we really want to loose control? And by default, do we find something gratifying about being treated badly? About pouring our heart and soul into a few clumsy encounters with a man we adore, only to be tossed aside like a dirty old porn mag? Or rather to we like the bad boys because we hope upon hope that somehow we will be able to change them? We hope that he will become so enamoured with us that he will be forced to change his wily ways - he’ll simply be unable not to, and in this respect is it not our own vanity that comes into play?

As part of his research Jonason subjected 200 male college students to stringent personality tests, designed to determine the strength of their so-called “dark triad traits.” These traits include self-obsession, vanity, callousness and deceit, to name a few. These men were also probed about their attitude towards sexual relationships, including the number of sexual partners they had and whether or not they enjoyed one-night stands. Putting aside the fact that sexual promiscuity is something women, as well as men, enjoy at university (and indeed can at anytime should they so wish) - sex without strings - Jonason’s results found that men who ranked highly for their dark triad traits had more sexual partners and more interest in short-term relationships and flings. I wonder also to what extent Jonason took into account the possibility of error. If these men were shown to be arrogant through personality testing (plus they were college boys, after all) is it not highly likely that these bright young things will have been stretching the truth regarding their sexual vivacity and experiences and, say, lying their arses off to impress their interviewers? How accurate can the results of any testing like this be? Jonason’s findings were supported by the work of Professor David Schmitt of Bradley University, Illinois, whose study of 35,000 people in 57 countries found a direct correlation between man’s sexual success with women and their dark triad personality traits. Schmitt said:

It’s universal across cultures for high dark triad scorers to be more active in short-term mating. They are more likely to try and poach other people’s partners for a brief affair.

“Poach other people’s partners:” Is anyone else getting flashbacks to the animal channel? Imagining fully-grown women sat in bird’s nests waiting for the male to return, his cock flying overhead like a delicious worm, as these ladies scramble for it, before some other hopeful sweeps in and takes them? Maybe it’s just me, but that sounds a bit too much like the Animal Channel. The implication that women can be passed around, used, and taken by a variety of men as a sexual commodity by the scientist involved in this research suggests the sexism inherent in the industry. This sweeping statement totally fails to appreciate a woman has her own consciousness with the capacity to make her own decisions despite what “science” considers her to find irresistible. But, back to the so-called “evidence:” in general, we are more attracted to the narcissistic bad guy, but why? The science behind it claims that we equate these negative attributes with masculinity, and therefore believe that such cads are more likely to father healthy children, the cads in turn being given the opportunity to spread their seed far and wide without the obligation of attending parent’s evening. But there is no empirical information to prove this. This is nothing more than speculation, and why is it that everything scientists endeavour to investigate regarding male-female relationships has to be entwined with a woman’s fertility and her allegedly inherent desire to procreate? Yes, we may be attracted to these men, we may have one-night stands with them, but we may also get up in the morning go home (or kick them out) satisfied that last night we got laid fantastically by someone we actually quite fancied, and think no more about it.

But how does this translate in the real world? Well, I’ll put my hands up to this one. As ashamed as I am to admit it, I’ve always been attracted to arrogant men. By which I mean men harbouring an inflated sense of their own self-importance and a tendency towards indifference. I don’t know why: if it’s because it poses a challenge, and I hope I can change these men, break them down and rebuild them, it can’t be helped. I find confidence a big turn-on, and I like the idea of being with a man other women covet and want. It must be an ego boost to think you’ve been chosen by someone who could have whoever he wants, even though you quickly realise you’re one of many and not even at the top of the list, but squeezed somewhere at the bottom between collecting laundry and getting a hair-cut. There is something strangely attractive about the callous man. Why? I don’t know. In reality I would not like this, I would feel used, and it would be unacceptable. In fact, I would try my best to ensure this does not happen. Yet this, like Bond, is something belonging to a dream (nightmare?) world, and while I am attracted to these men I try to have enough control over my feelings to realise that a brief fling would never be anything more than that, so why not enjoy them? I consider myself, like many women my age and older, to be an independent and confident, and surely with this independence comes the capacity to have my own fantasies, my own desires, and my own choice to act on them. This is an attraction based simply on lust and fantasy, and the belief that someone with these characteristics could satisfy my sexual desires. I’m not saying that this is the case for everybody, but having a one-night stand with a man confident enough with his body to be liberated in the bedroom and take control would, I imagine for me, be pleasurable. So while, for the sake of vanity, these men love to feel they’ve left women around the world broken hearted, is it not true that many women only really want horrible self-centred men as living sex toys rather than for keeps? Is it not true that women are now feeling empowered to take what they want? And is it not the arrogance of these men that makes them assume they are the be all and end all of any woman’s life they enter, rather than owing to any proof? While the empirical information puts emphasis on the fact these men have one-night stands, and casual relationships, what they ignore is the fact that the women they are involved with are doing the same thing! Why is it the woman always has to be positioned as the used, and the man as the user? While admittedly women are the victims of a lot of injustice in the twenty-first century (and this is by no means the worst), the fact that we are repeatedly denied our fantasies and sexual desires by the popular press means that it still remains unacceptable for us to actively pursue them.

What’s interesting (and frustrating) is the way a publication like The Daily Mail (male) deals with these findings. It almost relishes the idea that women can still be controlled by their base carnal desires to such an extent that they will give it all up for men who actually couldn’t give a shit about them. The implication is that we are weak, they are strong, that we are the victims, they are the victors, that this is the way it is, has always been and always will be. We’re painted as a victim of our need to find prospective fathers for our babies, and men championed as heroes for getting their leg over despite being self-interested, ignorant tossers. What’s more offensive akin to these sweeping generalisations is the failure to recognise the nuances of a woman’s sexual preferences. It we like the bad boy, then we can’t like the nice boy. However, while the old adage that “nice guys finish last” has been dusted off and thrust back into the gender politics circuit, is it not true that while us ladies may not want a kind thoughtful man as a shag-buddy or a one-night stand, we are more likely to want to settle down and build a life with them? Is it not true that while the patriarchal womaniser may get more action, the nice guy gets consistency and quality and love, and so is the latter not in a better position? Sort of like the tortoise and the hare: while the nice-guy has a slow start, doesn’t push himself onto the ladies and generally goes with the flow, he finally meets a woman and has a loving, meaningful relationship whereas the hare, quick of the mark, fucks everyone and everything along the way, getting de toured en route by a need to get his ego massaged once again by a cacophony of different women, and so he never gets one for keeps. While The Daily Male uses this information to infer nice guys may as well give up and start treating women as cock socks in order to get what they want, nice guys certainly do not finish last. Surely we women are allowed to indulge our sexual attractions towards men we may not necessarily like as people just to get a gratifying lay - so why is it that this has to be seen as having bigger implications than necessary? Nice guys, don’t use this as justification to launch a deceitful and downright spiteful sexual tirade against us, just be patient and give us space!

But, as always, I’d be interested to know what everyone else thinks. What do we want?

So, I find it difficult to understand the thought-processes motivating mothers to take their children to Tantrum, the first child-only beauty salon located on London’s King’s Road. As reported by The Observer today, here dolls and DVDs rest easily alongside the latest issues of Tatler and Vogue, the salon a monstrous hybrid, aspiring to a twisted form of childish maturity, having connotations of awful child beauty pageants where little girls are painted garish, teeth-whitened and hair tousled so that they look like over made-up 30-year-olds. Forget run-of the mill hand lotions. At Tantrum soap dispensers are filled with the best, most exclusive product by Champneys, with a fish tank in front of the basins containing considerably more than scabby old goldfish, with a collection of stingrays taking pride of place. The girls want to play, yeah? Well, forget Tiny Tears, here she can plays shops with expensive, old fashioned dolls while she waits for the chair to free up so she can get her eye brows plucked and baby nails painted.

There is something grotesque about this, not only because the extravagance and over-indulgence is something that these young girls will come to expect when they mature, nor because this indoctrinates girls from a young age to believe that self-perfection is central to femininity and womanhood. But rather there is a whole industry flourishing promoting the accelerated adolescence of children without taking into account the consequences of making a girl look more mature than she actually is. While to the girl in question she just looks pretty, emulating the images of women she is told are beautiful by popular culture, with this devastating innocence making her vulnerable to abuse. Although many women wear make-up to make them feel good about themselves and to improve their confidence, it is traditionally used t