Wednesday 25 December 2013

A Blog About Boobies



Manfriend and I went to the beach last week, it was warm and lovely, I had my book, and an ice lolly. My only trouble in the world was my uneven tan. You see, I had white titties, whilst the rest of my torso was distinctly more bronzed.

I had been wearing a strapless bikini all week that created the illusion that my normally well behaved and pertly placed boobies were saggy, like bags of three week old sandwiches, festering in plastic ziplocks at the bottom of a child's rucksack.

Girls, I'm sure you'll agree with me when I say it is not a good look, so, like many other women would, I undid my bikini top and slipped it off, pleased at the prospect of no longer looking like a bad stencil. I started to read my book, enjoying that delicious feeling of sunshine on skin, completely content with my carefree life here in glorious Australia.

I was just lying there thinking things such as: 'Isn't everything lovely here? Isn't everyone so friendly here? Australia has just got living down', when I heard some giggles nearby. I am not stupid enough to think that teenage boys, no matter how liberal, would not giggle at a pair of bare tits, so I carried on with my book and waited for them to pass by.

The giggles continued. It is now quite loud, snorty laughing. Tell self not to be so self involved to think that it must be about me.
Then, a girls voice. "Oh my god, that's DISGUSTING". More laughing, becoming slightly more insecure..."What the FUCK, that is so wrong". And then...

 "PUT YO TITS AWAY LADY, IT'S DISGUSTING".

Literally feel my stomach fall to my butt,  feel as though I have been transported back in time to year nine when a  boy is pea-shooting chewing gum into my hair and my acne riddled face flairs to a shade of pink.

I quickly put my bikini back on, embarassed, and Manfriend gently asks me if they were talking to me. I turn around and see a group of about seven teenage girls laughing hysterically whilst one stands, hands on hips, looking in my direction with a look of pure satanism on her face.

I am a 22 year old, confident, intelligent young feminist but still I cannot explain how bloody, shitting, fucking AWFUL that made me feel. I'm not stupid, I know breasts are not disgusting - I mean, come on, the world has had an obsession with them since the beginning of the human race, when cave men drew great, voluptuous, bosomed women on stone. BUT I couldn't shake that feeling of complete and utter fear and paranoia, with just a dash of self loathing.

Manfriend did a lovely show of violently telling them to fuck off, (which I pretended I was above, but secretly wanted to kiss him so hard for being such a deliciously aggressive protector) and we left the beach shortly after.

I managed to not cry, although had I been with one of my girlfriends I would have wailed and cried big, fat, snotty tears for all the hurt I was feeling.

It got me thinking: As if women don't have it hard enough - we constantly see images of generally unattainable 'beauty' in the media, we are pretty much unfailingly judged initially on our looks by men, we are facing a 30% salary gap, strip clubs, sandwich jokes and fucking hell-on-earth underwear shopping - We now have to fight against our own gender as well?! Well that is a sick joke.

Who raises young women to be so judgmental, sharp and cutting? We should all be hanging out together, discussing how undeniably awesome we are, and how we are going to sternly kick the delicate balls of the patriarchy by proving how strong, clever and, yes, beautiful we are. Because if the world is going to objectify us sexually for 100,000 years, we are going to use it to our bloody advantage.

I have thought of hundreds of hindsight comebacks to those girls. Some of them include calling them 'butch' 'mean' and 'immature', but most of them are just to tell them they should be ashamed of themselves to so brashly thrust insecurity on someone else, especially another woman. Especially as they know how it feels to to be insecure and scared of whether you aesthetically meet the norm. Because they are, after all, teenage girls, living in a western world where being insecure about yourself is just another day to day occurrence, like taking a shit. It is intrinsically sewn into the seams of being female.

That's a bloody awful truth to consider, but it is the truth. So maybe if we were all nice to each other, we might be able to actually get some shit done this century.

All for now, 
JoJo xxx




Monday 9 December 2013

Inderdental Sandblasting and Accidental Undressing



Day 4 in Australia.

Amount of times have said "don't you have _____ here?" or "does everybody ____ here?" - 27
Amount of times have applied suncream - 10
Amount of mosquito bites - 2 - HURRAH
Amount of times have run frantically away from a flying insect - 46926
Amount of cockroaches in bathroom - 1
Amount of times have fallen off bed and hurt arse - 1

Having a delightful time here in Mona Vale.  Very nice to see Manfriend again, although unfortunately now have to shave armpits on regular basis. The house is lovely, family are brilliant and doggy is adorable.

The flight over was very long, although in some sort of sick, masochistic way I enjoyed it. Although 'Operation Defeat Jet Lag' was less than succesful.

My flight amounted to around 26 hours, leaving London Heathrow at 10pm stopping over in Singapore and then onto Sydney arriving at local time 7.30am.
I had a truly terrific plan to avoid the dreaded jet lag. I would stay awake for the first and longest leg of the journey, then sleep for the second leg and wake up just before landing - fresh and ready to meet my Manfriend whilst also being very, very sexy.

On the first leg of the journey I had three spare seats around me - yes three! Which would have been lovely to sleep on BUT NO! MUST.STAY.AWAKE.
Watched several films, drank severals Gins, ate a lot of free snacks and did some yoga at the back of the plane to distract self from cosy nest-like space around me. Managed to stay awake - result.

Got onto next plane which was decidedly less glamorous, spacious and fresh smelling than the last. Also much smaller seats. Spare seats replaced by one very large, very smelly, British man. Tried in vain to sleep - smelly man kept laughing at i-pod, making questionable noises from bottom area and seemed to have a bladder infection- constantly asking me to move so he could 'spend a penny'.

Arrived at Sydney in delirious hysteria. Also very ugly due to lack of sleep and make-up application (had given up on life and just wanted to be in a dark, quiet place for a long, long time). Could smell the distinct aroma of my personal body odour.

Walking through the arrivals gate I felt as though I was in some terribly romantic film, I glided down the ramp with my trolley of belongings and gazed into the crowd formed at the the end. Looked around for Manfriend briefly but then decided would be much more romantic if he were the one who saw me first, so airily wandered down trying not to focus on anyone in-particular.  Got to the bottom of ramp and into the group of greeters.... Hmm, actually quite hard to find people when you are so amongst them and also so five foot two. I was sure that Manfriend must have spotted me on the ramp of glory and so just waddled about a bit waiting for his approach.

Manfriend was at the wrong arrivals gate. 45 minutes later and I had wandered around a large amount, (whilst staying in the same arrivals section to ensure that we did not miss each other), gone outside three times (incase he had meant that he would meet me there), tried to call twice (but failed because I didn't know the code thingy) and then decided to set up camp on a chair.
Was just about to attempt to do something about my profound ugliness when I saw him. Relief! But also annoyance that I had not attended to my face earlier, as now felt the need to keep hiding face with hand under rouse of a yawn, in order to mask my spotty, pale skin.


The upshot is, I got jet lag, a few days when could not walk straight and one day when I fell of the bed and hurt my butt, but other than that I have come off
relatively un-scathed.

Oh, also went for my first surf in Aussie waters and nearly shat my pants, much more powerful than at home....
Amount of times bikini bottoms  came down to my knees -3
Amount of times I face planted the sand - 4
Pints of water involuntarily swallowed - 2

So apart from a great interdental sandblast and a few dodgy half-caught, half-fluked-through-fear waves I'd say it was pretty much a disaster. But I will try again! Wearing suitable clothing and a gumshield.

So here I am, enjoying the lovely weather, generally taking it easy and being undeniably happy and smug about my lovely life.

Will write again when have done something very embarrassing and inappropriate (tomorrow).

That's all for now
JoJo xxx