Ain’t No Body (Loves Me Better)

All over the Western World something terrible is happening, every week another selection of z-list celebrities give birth (this debatably isn’t the awful bit- unless they call their newborn Declan) and their bodies disappear. Yep, just like that, their whole body is gone- I’m imagining some magician style smoke with ‘poof!’ sound effects- until all that is left is a floating head of peroxide hair pushing a bugaboo/ paying their teenage au pair to push it for them because they are too busy planning their ovulation calendar for baby number 2.

Of course, their bodies don’t really disappear, therefore these rather misleading headlines can seem quite confusing, instead they are simply celebrating all the weight they’ve lost 4 days after leaving the maternity ward.

Looking at these covers, I’m sorry Teamales I couldn’t resist you know how much I love a good cover analysis, we can see a clear theme forming- starting with Kim Kardashian. Because let’s face it, most things start with Kim Kardashian.

Just in case anybody cared, Star magazine are giving us a nice rounded update about all the things Kim did in order to get her body ‘back’ including eating less (cough personal chef cough) and three hour workouts (wink personal trainer wink). So not only does she look way too good for someone who’s just pushed the equivalent of a small pumpkin out her vagina, but she’s done it all with excessive help that the average woman doesn’t have. Or NEED. At the end of the day, you’ve just had a baby- is that not magical enough? I can’t imagine the pressures new mums face these days, not only do they have to consider if they want to be the type of parent that give their 18 month old an iPad or pretend they enjoy socialising with their local breastfeeding group, but now they also have to do it all without looking ‘Mumsy’. 

The Anti F-Word Series: Meninism

If you are reading this a quick hi 5 to WordPress for posting this as I’m currently without internet in the south of France (first world problems) and have had to schedule this to upload today, if not then technology has failed me once again please don’t cry in my absence. Remember to follow/like/comment and I’ll reply ASAP (or ASAIC as soon as I can. Why has no one made this a thing? It summarises my situation so much better).

Over the next few weeks I will be posting a three part exploration into antifeminism starting today with Meninism, the belief that – if I’m honest I’m not really sure. There are almost a million followers to the main meninist twitter account, so many in fact they’ve opened an online shop where you can buy labelled merchandise which keeps selling out (hopefully because feminists are buying it to fuel their fires over the coming Winter months) but their actual political views are clouded by their unnecessary meanness. I don’t think they work completely against gender equality, but deny the feminist label and the idea that Western women need help. Funly (great word) ironical fact: when the group started expanding in 2001, a Meninist was an abbreviated version of male feminist and they even had a totally 00s looking website discussing their kick ass values. Now we have a moment of silence for the death of Times New Roman. And the niceness of original meninism.

Clubbed Penguins

After the recent traumatic discovery that Club Penguin had deleted my account due to inactivity, that typical cold turkey feeling started to kick in and I was suddenly craving a card jitsu match against Penguin908362 (I never understood that, you can name your penguin anything you want yet you settle for ‘Penguin’) and Aunt Arctic’s weekly advice column. Luckily the penguin of my glamourous assistant, otherwise known as Carla, is still going strong so she kindly let me borrow it to recharge my nostalgia levels. That was when I realised how the virtual reality of Club Penguin maybe isn’t as different from our lives as I thought…

10 Things Club Penguin Taught Me

Racial diversity exists however there’s still a bit of an Orange Is The New Black hierarchy. Back in 2008, navy blue and peach owned the servers but now it seems red is making more of a comeback- don’t worry though it’ll still take you at least 9 pages of the clothing catalogue to find the token green.

Meeting Rockhopper is the singlehandedly most exciting thing that will ever happen in your life. It’s all downhill from here.

Boob Clap

As Charli XCX famously put it: “Boob Clap the sound from my bra the beat goes on and on and on.”

Or maybe that was the alternative version….anyway.

Today we’re talking boobs. Breasts. Melons. Flumjunkers (don’t ask who contributed that one, but he was a he and over 45). Hooters. Knockers. Cups. Jugs. Fleshy organs. And any other cringey name that skates around what they really are- weird. Is it just me finding it completely absurd that women (and men that shop at Jacamo) are given the anatomy version of marshmallows that hibernate on chests in order to feed offspring,  be deleted from Instagram and have our ‘Girl Score’- sadly, this is an actual thing- increased the further down the alphabet your bra size goes? This system doesn’t seem very fair. Let’s discuss our boobylicious (I am in physical pain for writing that but we must suffer for crappy puns) existence: