That bloody woman...

It's very difficult to talk about Katie Hopkins, primarily known for resigning from The Apprentice and engaging in al fresco sex with married fellas, without resorting to schoolyard jibes about her appearance and kicking all the furniture and pets within reach, while simultaneously frothing at the mouth and spitting obscenities.

Well that's the effect she has on me.

Her latest zinger is claiming that Kelly Brook is "a chubster" and that any working woman "can be a size 8" just like her, and that they should just "eat less and move about more".

So far, so simplistic.

I'm not tall, but even at under 6 stone 13lbs/97lbs at one point in my life, I was never a size 8. What I'd like to know, what would she recommend doing in my case, as I am blessed with a sturdy frame? Is someone going to come out with an all new bone-slimming diet? Should I grate myself on a full length sanding block to get my body down to achieve the necessary proportions? Or can I narrow my shoulders and ribcage purely by force of will?

Yet again, we see this lining up of slimness being passed off as virtue, or "if only they can exhibit the same amount of will power as me, then they will be perfect". Virtue is being kind to people, virtue is not the ability to get into a dress size. If the world is full of tactless TV trolls like Katie, I'm moving to Mars.

Duffed no more - Trying to be good...

When pregnant, I realised something awful.  Women are using a very big stick to beat ourselves with (in addition to The Daily Mail doing it for us) in our constant desire to be seen to be "good" when it's all total bollocks. This isn't news, so why the hell do I feel compelled to say it again?

I, for one, didn't sign up for that crap. I also wish I could have believed (I did in my brain, but not really in my gut for quite a while) my friends who said "Trust your own judgement, it's probably pretty sound." about the whole parenting mularky so let's tell the Moaning Minnies and Judgy Joans to do one. I was a child of the 70's and I turned out ok etc etc etc.....obsessive parenting and feeling guilty gets you nowhere and at the end of the day, "good" also doesn't actually mean "perfect".

I declare today (and tomorrow and the day after) to be the time that we try, for a whole 10 minutes at least per day, to not feel fking guilty about something we're doing that *might* tenuously, possibly affect your baby and their development and/or future emotional well-being.

Be loving, be kind, talk, sing about as well as the sad deluded people on X factor,  dance like someone is electrocuting your feet, read to them a bit, remember that cbeebies/formula/playpens are not the work of Satan, say no to everybody once in a while and look after yourself and be kind - to yourself. Happy parents are good parents as a rule - and the chances are that you probably are great at it, and you're a beautiful person. Shut the voices out and tell every negative Nelly to foxtrot oscar for a while - go on, you know you'll enjoy it. x

P.S. everyone benefits...bugger...I'm being positive..."tsk *eye roll*...children"...

Things that irritate me about the Daily Mail - Part 1 - Use of the word "Flaunt"

As everything about the Daily Mail irritates me, I potentially have an endless supply of inspiration...


flaunt  (flônt)

v. flaunt·ed, flaunt·ing, flaunts

v.tr.

1. To exhibit ostentatiously or shamelessly: flaunts his knowledge. See Synonyms at show.

2. Usage Problem To show contempt for; scorn.

v.intr.

1. To parade oneself ostentatiously; show oneself off.

2. To wave grandly: pennants flaunting in the wind.

According to the narrative of the Daily Fail, an assortment of famous women are perpetually "flaunting" themselves - or their curves - or if they've been papped on a beach holiday, "flaunting their beach body". This is bloody bad English displaying a blatant disregard for the actual meaning of the word, undercut with the Victorian assertion that famous and beautiful women all have the morals of a necrophiliac dockyard rat. All  because you've been seen in possession of hips, boobs and waist.

By this rationale, possessing the secondary sexual characteristics of ones gender, and wearing nice clothes at a public event is enough to make you a slapper. However, a woman with a prominent career, standing on a beach wearing a bikini with her family during a private holiday where someone surreptitiously takes a photo of her and sells it to a magazine, is realistically only guilty of one thing - having the courage to get her skin out in a public place.

Yes, there are copious amounts of ardent self publicists out there who seek out opportunities to wiggle and jiggle in an assortment of locations, but if one of the major expectations of your job is that you turn up in a posh frock and smile, it's just plain rude to somehow imply that that person is trying actually demand attention of a sexual nature by having the audacity to be a pretty woman with a public profile.

By the nature of the beast, fame means that you are instrinsically more visible than the average person, but looking good in a attractive frock or in a bikini is certainly not the same as "flaunting" oneself. 

Arguably a burlesque artist flaunts herself, but that is in primarily in the context of her act, and while she'll be beautifully groomed and dressed, I don't think Dita von Teese visits her local supermarket in tassells and a g-string operating with an overwhelming need to seduce all who cross her path. Strangely, predatory impulses accompanied by fabulously nork-enhancing top notch Vivienne Westwood and buying bog roll and cheese strings rarely go hand in hand (but I'm willing to accept that I could be mistaken).

She's not working so your right to use the word "flaunt" in the true sense has gone.  As worst it's an appalling example of the sexual double standard, implying that a successful woman and her unruly curvy body are by implication trying to grap attention. At best, it's a bitchy reflection of a restricted mindset that is profoundly unhappy with itself and seeks to make everyone feel lousy about themselves, no matter who you are.

It makes my wee boil....