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Some thongs very wrong here........

There are many things that I like about being a girl. I don't for example, have to worry about shaving my face every day (the odd wax when I notice the tosh getting a bit wild does just fine), I don't have to concern myself with inappropriately timed erections....at funerals, in meetings, on the train etc, etc, and I don't have to pretend to like football because all men must like football (it's the rules!). Instead I can paint my nails pretty colours, use tears to my advantage (seriously men will do anything to stop you crying....anything) and I can ogle shamelessly over naked men without being labelled as seedy (men ogling naked women=seedy, women ogling naked men= not seedy - who knows why?).

On the tip side though, there are many things that I hate about being a girl too. That.time.of.the.month- need I say more - the fact that we have to fight for everything - the vote, fair pay, the remote- and most of all, I hate the fact that we have to be the ones to wear sexy underwear.

Don't get me wrong, I love a bit of lace and silk, but have you any idea (men) just how hard it is to make sexy underwear actually look like sexy underwear? Unless you're a stick thin, size zero supermodel - and lets face it, most of us are not - the whole lingerie thing is just....well it's just a minefield quite frankly.

I mean, basques......what the hell are they all about? It all began in the changing room of my local La Senza  (other lingerie shops are available, blah, blah, blah). I read somewhere that a good basque can transform a woman into a voluptuous, Jessica Rabbit style goddess in an instant. What it actually did was transform me into a beetroot red, sweating, bulging mad woman. The more I began to panic- boobs tickling my eyebrows and back fat spewing out in all directions (imagine how Morph would look if you squished him between your fingers....yeah you got it!) - the more I became stuck in my boned prison. When I eventually emerged from the changing rooms three quarters of an hour later (thankfully managing to free myself by myself - I cannot comprehend the embarrassment that would have come from having to call an assistant to cut me out), I decided that corsets and basques were possibly not the way forward.

I'd already written off stocking and suspenders after one Halloween doing the whole naughty school girl bit. There's nothing funnier on earth than trying to remove the damn things once inebriated, but sexy it ain't. I pulled one so hard that my hand rebounded as my stocking came off and I quite skillfully managed to punch myself in the eye.....nice one!

And lets not pretend girls that any of us look good in a thong! Those Ann Summers models make them look so gorgeous, but in reality wobbly bums and muffin tops make what little material there is sink into the skin like string on a pork joint.

Yes the lingerie thing really is a bane of my existence as a woman and honestly...........I reckon Bridget Jones had the right idea.


Damn you Mossy!!!



That's more like it!!!