Last night my boyfriend did me a home spa. I love a good home spa. It basically involves him lighting candles in the bathroom and running a bubble bath while I go at myself with a body brush. And before you say, ‘that’s bullshit, Vagenda lady. You should be fighting the patriarchal assumption that a woman’s ambitions are limited to a bath laced with The Sanctuary products and a going over with a loofah’, let me point out that home spa is for everyone. My boyfriend loves home spa. He’s been known to luxuriate in a bubble bath while clutching a flute of pink champagne and idly picking off belgian chocolates from a special dish at the side more than once. He loves trying all my lotions and potions on various parts of his body, which is how he discovered that olive oil hair mask makes his balls super-soft. The menz are all about the home spa, it’s not a gender thing.
- What you should be wearing this season:
Crop tops! Sequins! Orange! And something mythical known as ‘wearable printed trousers’. Pull the other one, Closer.
- This time of year marks the beginning of the ubiquitous ‘What to wear to a wedding’ feature (TM Every Magazine Ever). Let me save you a lot of hassle and give you some very prudent advice. I know, because last year for my french cousin’s wedding I listened to a magazine instead of my heart, and as a result I looked like a mad bridesmaid gone rogue, and not in a cool Charlotte Coleman in Four Weddings way, but in an actual proper ‘who is that plump English girl and has she actually been invited’ way.
Meanwhile, all the French women turned up in impeccably chic block colour shift dresses which looked stylish rather than ‘wedding-y’. Follow their lead, step away from the lace and the florals unless it’s CofE, and you’ll be dandy.
- Beauty, and apparently we should all be ‘daring to bare’ like Cara Delevigne. Getting the natural look involves a grand total of SEVENTEEN beauty products, which is actually more than I put on back when I used to go gay clubbing in false eyelashes and a beehive.
- Turning over the page, I am confronted by a sanitary towel advert for something called the ‘Always silk collection’. The tagline makes me gawk in horror for at least a minute. ‘THE SILK SENSATION WHERE YOU WOULDN’T EXPECT IT’ it says. Surely it…doesn’t…it can’t mean…my vagina? It DOES mean my vagina. Always, it seems, have renamed my vagina, and are now referring to it as ‘where you wouldn’t expect it’. I try it on my boyfriend. ‘Hey, I’m feeling tingly…where you wouldn’t expect it.’ He looks baffled. ‘Why don’t you put your cock…where you wouldn’t expect it’. Now a genuine look of fear enters his eyes. Clearly Always’ prudish moniker for a woman’s area doesn’t work. I suppose the angle of their campaign is that you wouldn’t expect to have a silky vagina during your period because sanitary towels chafe like a motherfucker, so I sort of get it. I don’t really see the link between continuing to feel ‘fabulously feminine’ as they put it, and a silky maxipad, but then what do I know? I’m the sort of gal who favours direct advertising. Something like: ‘check this out: a pad that doesn’t rip your fanny red raw’. No? Oh, OK.
- How to know you’re ready for a baby, according to ‘celebrity therapist’ Marisa Peer:
‘Take your time to get to know [your partner] inside out’ (snigger)
‘Make sure you want a baby for the right reasons. If you think a child will make your man commit to you…think again’ (thanks for the vote of confidence in the female sex there, Marisa!)
Likewise, ‘if you have to force, coerce, or trick your partner into parenthood, then it’s not the right time’
‘Never have a baby so you can leave work and enjoy time at home’ (BABYHOLIDAY!)
Who is this person, seriously? And why does she hate women so much???
- Weight loss. There’s shit-tons on this. ‘Ice cream is bad, salad is good’ says Coronation Street’s Jennie McAlpine, who’s clearly A LUNATIC. Meanwhile, Melinda Messenger passes the fridge raider test with an icebox full SEVEN different types of cheese. In a way I’m kind of half glad that the nutritionist has started giving women a break. The other half of me, however, is angry that she’s getting away scott free, when other fridge raiders alumni have been reduced to tears for owning bread. Perhaps it’s because Messenger snacks on ‘fresh thyme leaves’. I’m not fucking with you. She really does.
- Problems. Marnie is six months pregnant and horny as hell, but her husband is too scared of harming the baby to have sex with her. Tracey Cox, agony aunt’s solution? Despite it being perfectly safe, you should stop hassling him otherwise his temporary ‘impotence’ should turn into a long-tem problem. LISTEN TO THE MAN’S PENIS, NOT MEDICAL SCIENCE, MARNIE.
Meanwhile, Name Withheld’s husband has come home drunk and stinking of perfume. ‘Give him the benefit of the doubt’, says Tracey, while scrutinising everything he does really carefully from now on. A foolproof recipe for a happy relationship, natch.
After that it’s just crosswords and telly, but I do leave time to check in on my horoscope. ‘It’s potentially a great week for you’, says Closer, which is clearly bollocks because I started it drunk in Slim Jims in the early hours of Monday, continued it hungover, and now it’s mid-week and I have a full-on heavy cold and a picture of Kim Kardashian on my arse that won’t come off. On the plus side, no one’s called me a cunt on twitter yet, so that’s something to smile about. But yeah, this magazine sucks.