28 times we hated Rob Titchener a little bit more…

rob evil

Public Service Announcement: This man is the actual worst**

Is The Archers sending anyone else into a borderline-panic-attack state recently? Seriously, this shit should come with a trigger warning.

In fact, trigger warning. This post contains reference to eating disorders and domestic and sexual abuse. Sigh.

Catching up on Friday’s episode of The Archers, I was physically shaking. The Rob and Helen storyline is car-crash radio at it’s best/worst. It just gets more and more disturbing, yet I can’t look away. Actually, I might have to, it’s not good for my mental health.

So, in order to excise some of this trauma, I thought I’d share my anger/grief/fear with y’all. I’ve been on Twitter, so I know I’m not the only one with #RobRage. Please enjoy this rant/romp through some of the highlights of Rob Titchener’s most hateful moments. (put the kettle on and settle in, we’ll be here for a while). Continue reading


How to lose your baby weight.

how to lose your baby weight‘Baby weight’: should it be an actual thing? Should it be something we talk about and focus on? Is ‘baby weight’ a helpful idea/turn of phrase in any way?

When you become a mother it is very likely that you’ll feel your body is not your own for while. I mean the whole being-in-labour thing is enough to make most of us feel a bit odd, what with the world and his wife regarding your nether-regions with clinical disinterest for 24 hours. Then there’s the fact that you have a tiny human attached to you boob/general person all the time. (Like, all the f*cking time). Anyhoo, the whole newborn scenario is not exactly going to make you feel like you’re bringing sexy back or anything, and that’s totes normal, so, like, don’t worry about it.

Added to all this body-consciousness is the concept that you have some ‘baby weight’ that you must lose sometime soon. Because that is what people do, right? By people, I mean Victoria Beckham and Jessica Alba and Kate ‘The Duchess of Cambridge’ Middleton. You know, the kind of people who can afford a nanny for each child, personal trainer and chef. And the kind of people who get followed around by cameras ever darn day of their lives… I mean, I can’t think how/why they do it…

At first this whole issue may not bother you, but give it time. I have written previously about the few months of grace after giving birth where I could look in the mirror and think “yeah, my body looks different and that’s okay”, but then the inevitable happened and I looked in s three way mirror and tried to buy jeans. Foolish woman. Suddenly it dawned on me that I really did need to shape up! And by ‘shape up’ I mean lose weight and look thinner, obvs. I need to shed my baby weight.

But did I? Do you? 

Now, I’m not saying that women don’t put on weight when they’re pregnant. I’m obviously not saying that, because that would be straight-up wrong and silly. I’m not saying that women don’t put on more weight than the 6-10lbs their baby weighs either (again, wrong and silly). What I’m saying is that the whole idea of ‘baby weight’ has a certain, well, weight to it. It has an expectancy that at some point you really need to get your act together and return to your ‘normal’ body type. Like your body has just gone wrong for a while and it needs a gym membership and 10-day juice cleanse to get it back on track.

But what if – and bear with me because this is a pretty out-there suggestion – what if growing a person in your womb, going through major hormonal changes and having the skin around your torso stretch, like, a lot, means that your ‘normal’ body type has changed? If that’s the case then isn’t the idea it’s all just ‘baby weight’ that needs to get gone a bit, well, unrealistic. What with having to look after an actual tiny helpless human and everything, I just don’t think this expectation is one we should be putting on ourselves.

And while we’re on the subject, what body shape are we trying to get ‘back’ to anyway? The way we looked before we had kids? You know, that pre-baby physique that you’d always been so happy with and never wanted to changed in any way? Hmm… Ain’t hindsight a bitch.

Actually, I think most of us want to have the body we wanted to have before we were pregnant, not the one we had. There’s still part of me that wants to get ‘back’ to my ‘ideal’ weight. This weight was not the weight I was just before Bubs was conceived, on no, it’s the weight I was when I was 24 and vegan and went running regularly and was yet to become quite so fond of Sauvignon Blanc. Incidentally this was also the weight I was when lots of people volunteered their unbidden opinion that I was too skinny. Sigh.

The fact that half of the women we see modelling clothes we’re supposed to wear are teenagers doesn’t help here. I mean, what if we’re not all supposed to have the figure of an adolescent girl whose boobs have just ‘come in’ for the rest of our lives?’

I’m just asking.

Having a baby, whether you give birth to it or not, is going to change your lifestyle. You will be exhausted a lot of the time and less able to just ‘pop to the gym’ (apparently that is a thing that people do) whenever. You will most likely eat more quick and easy food, which usually means more frozen pizza.

And so what? I mean, maybe that’s just okay. It’s obviously not okay to eat chocolate for breakfast every day and live a sedentary lifestyle, but any parent of a toddler will know that the option of a sedentary lifestyle is but an illusive dream.

(Just as an aside, I think all parents of toddlers should, by rights, have really toned arms. Who’s with me?)

Bodies change. That is an actual scientific fact. So what if we just let them? I don’t mean what if we all become morbidly obese, obvs, (wrong and silly), but what if we don’t try to ‘get our figures back’? What if we try to love the skin we’re in, generally eat some vegetables, make sure we move about a bit, and also drink some gin and eat some chocolate?

Sure Victoria Beckham is the skinniest four-child-bearing mini you’ll ever see, but as the paparazzi aren’t particularly bothered with my everyday movements, maybe it just doesn’t matter that much if my arms wobble a bit. Maybe that’s even.. Nice.

Dear Reader, I am so sick of this crap. I am so tired of being surrounded by women on expensive, extreme diets, or talking about how ‘bad’ we were on holiday (i.e. we ate lots and enjoyed it). I am SO sick of all this body image stuff getting into my head and making me crazy and unhappy and stopping me just enjoying my ridiculously blessed existence!

So, I am turning over a new leaf, I am going to try to live a healthy lifestyle because I don’t want to die of a con colony heart failure when I’m 55, and if doing that means I lose a stone then I will be ecstatic (not gonna lie) but if I don’t, I am really going to try to feel good about myself anyway. Because why shouldn’t I? And why shouldn’t you? 

If you need further inspiration, check Amy Schumer’s acceptance speech at the Glamour women of the Year Awards. Nothing to do with baby weight, but the line 47 seconds in is priceless!


Parents: We’ve all gone a little bit mad.

Hi there good people. Just a little note today from you’re resident malcontent to say ‘Hey, are you feeling a bit mad?’ Well you’re not alone!

mad parents

As you may have guessed from the general (fucking hilarious) tone of this blog, I’m not exactly okay with the current advice-culture-quagmire we modern day parents have to wade through. And, frankly, I think we’ve all gone a bit mad. Why? Because there are so many bloody ‘shoulds’ and ‘shouldn’ts’. Neuroses about food and sleep and behaviour and development continually pop up on our Facebook feeds and get rammed down our throats in the form of ‘news’ articles and ‘helpful’ books. Seriously, I continually write about how all this stuff is utter BS but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t affect me. It’s like how I get well angry with the general “be thin, be thin, be reeeeeeaaally thin” bombardment women face on a daily basis’ but also hate my upper arms (I mean they are utterly hideous, as showcased above) and read the calorie counts when deciding which sandwich to buy. Bleurgh. Continue reading

Protein Pills, Beach Bodies and Mixed Messages #eachbodysready

The sun is out (sometimes) and the summer holidays are booked (or being booked/dreamed about). Consequently, it’s that time of the year again; time to really drill the “your body is not good enough for a bikini” message home to the 99.999%  of women who don’t look like a post-airbrushed Victoria’s Secret model. Magazines will be laying on 8-page spreads about the latest in juicing cleanses, or how to get killer abs whilst sitting at your desk. Woo frickin hoo.

At times like these there are a number of options open to the 99.999%:

a) proceed to engage in the latest 5-2/Atkins/’you are what you eat’ dieting craze (preferably this will involve a few purchases of books/supplements/juicing machines).

b) take up the latest in Insanity/bums tums and thighs/Boxercise exercise regimes (preferably this will also involve buying DVDs, subscribing to YouTube channels, or at least forking out for some over-sized inflatable balls).

c) Starve yourself (it’s not funny cos it’s true).

d) All of the the above.

e) Rise up and smash the bloody patriarchy.

f) Vigorously complain about the pressure women face to maintain largely unachievable body shapes/sizes whilst eating chocolate and secretly wishing you had arms like Jennifer Anniston.

I’ll let you guess which option I’ve plumped for this year. Sigh.

Whilst wading through the whole I-know-that-society-has-given-me-a-completely-unattainable-ideal-body-image-but-I-still-want-a-flat-stomach-and-a-gravity-defying-bosom quagmire It was nice to see a stick-it-to-the-man story doing the rounds last week. I discovered it on the Huff Post with this super-strong headline:

Irate commuters have been defacing this lovely little ‘beach body’ advert:

*screams into pillow with incandescent rage*

I mean where do you begin? With the fact that this brand is tying to sell us MEAL REPLACEMENTS of pills and powder that cost £62 (SIXTY TWO POUNDS?? From what I can surmise that’s only a two week supply) and contain caffeine? That the implication of the advert is that you have to lose weight to have access to the beach? Or that the company who sells the protein pills posts tweets like these: Um, yeah, because you either look like the (gorgeous, healthy and probably very nice) model in those ads or you are “fat and out of shape”: you’re sort of proving the point here guys! The truth is that there are a lot of fit and healthy women who would never look like that in a bikini. Some of us have little boobs, some of us have big bums, some of us have stretch marks. You get the picture.

(For more on beach body bullshit hop along to The Artist Formerly Known As Sisterhood and All That for a peek at this splendid post)

A weird but largely unchallenged perfectionism seems to hang around body image. Either we are the paradigm of vigorous exercise and strict diet or we aren’t good enough. Either we’re at the lowest end of a healthy BMI or we’re ‘fat’ and need to lose weight/tone up/drop a dress size.  It’s more than slightly infuriating.

But hurrah for the angry commuting public of London! They have taken it upon themselves to demonstrate just how they feel about these adverts. There are various approaches from giving the finger in a twitter pic:


to a simple yet effective post-it note,

to grander (and slightly less legal) gestures

If you didn’t know, Dear Reader, this particular form of graffiti is know as ‘subvertising’. Like, subverting advertising, clever huh? Indeed the #eachbodysready campaign has grown apace! Hence the coverage from the Huff Post, BBC, and all them lot. There’s a petition and everything, though I’m not sure I want the adverts to be taken down, I’d rather every single one of them were subvertised. How cool would that be?

Huzzah! Up the sisterhood.

Yes, it was all going so well, my feminist hopes were lifted and my body image demons quieted for a moment as I revelled in the civil disobedience that was taking place on the London underground. If only I hadn’t scrolled down.

Never. Scroll. Down.

Because when I did I found that despite running an article on such an empowering topic, the Huffington Post had also run a body-shaming link at the bottom of this very same page.

That’s right. “Twelve celebs whose weight gain you won’t believe!”* Seriously? Is the actually happening? We are just staring at strangers who have gained weight and judging them. Epic fail, Huffington, epic fail.

Just FYI, this was the picture they used for fat Britney. WTF.

Just FYI, this was the picture they used for fat (ie gorgeous and healthy) Britney. WTF.

It’s no wonder that even the bolshiest of us have underlying body issues. Most of the celeb ‘before’ pictures were taken in their teens. But then we are all supposed to look like adolescent girls accord to most high fashion magazines. Either that or Marylin Monroe (in her ’60s corset and pointy boob bra).

Sigh again.

A few years back on Radio Four there was a show called the People’s Manifesto, hosted by Mark Thomas. Totes hilares and now a book (google it). The basic idea was that the audience proposed new laws, some bizarre, some bloody genius. One of my all time favourites is that all models have be chosen at random from the electoral register. Isn’t that the most brilliant thing you’ve ever heard? How much would everyone love that advert if it was Mavis Brown, 62, from Scunthorpe in the bright yellow bikini? Suddenly we would get a much more representative idea of what bodies actually look like and stop being told over and over again how they should look. Oh how I would love my son to grow up surrounded by normal images of normal bodies, rather than spirit-crushing ideals that make us mere mortals feel like utter crap.

Okay, the whole models-by-ballot thing is almost certainly an unachievable dream, but maybe next time you see an image that makes you want to shrivel into a ball and repeat the mantra ‘I will not eat a Mars bar” over and over, you could just picture our Mavis in the same pose. Failing that, have a look at the pic of me and my thigh in an old post on body image. Laughter is the best medicine, after all, and it seems mockery is a pretty excellent protest.

What do you think of it all? Would you deface one of the ads if you had the chance? Or do you think it’s no big deal? Comment below or tweet me @aafew. Oh and if you like this please do:


Tots100 MAD Blog Awards


*this link isn’t on the page anymore, but it was all day yesterday.

Sex A.D. (After Delivery)

so hot right now

Have you had a baby in the past few years? If so, how long after the birth did a midwife start talking to you about when you could/couldn’t have sex? I think I got about 24 hours before someone asked “Now, have you thought about contraception?” I think I answered, probably with something like “Erm, no, erm…*adjusts small person attempting to breast feed*”. A more genuine response would have been  “Have I thought about contraception? HAVE I THOUGHT ABOUT CONTRACEPTION? And frickin’ kidding me??”

Yes, I am aware that it is very responsible for hospitals to explain to women that they could potentially become pregnant straight away and that breast-feeding is not a guarantee against baby number two popping up on a scan in 12 week’s time (was that a collective shudder I just heard?). But, seriously, 24 hours after Bubs was born a more pertinent question would have been “do you think you’ll consider ever having sex again, ever in your entire life?” Because, let’s face it ladies, there’s nothing about pushing out a tiny human that makes you wanna welcome a fella into your lady garden any time soon, now is there?

Weirdly, though, I have heard stories from multiple midwives about couples being caught ‘at it’ on the post-natal ward. Yep, that’s right, on a ward, behind those flimsy blue curtains. And they say romance is dead! All I can think when I hear about this is “WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE?” I mean, forget the psychological element, my first day of motherhood saw me walking around with a bag of my own pee. It’s just not practical, now is it?

Next time I had ‘the talk’ it was when I was being discharged by the community midwives. Same question again: “Have you thought about contraception?” I think I laughed this time. She was well aware that I had infected stitches (over-sharing?) and a particularly screamy baby. We both knew that this was a box-ticking exercise. (no, I did not intend that to sound like a joke from a carry-on film).

Actually, due to the afore mentioned stitches, I was also advised to wait until they had healed before resuming bedroom antics. And, you know, I was pretty okay with that. A lot of my friends had assisted births or caesareans and so were in the same boat. I’m pretty sure none of us minded putting off the hanky panky. At all.

Now, my friends and I don’t actually talk about our sex-lives; come on people, this isn’t Sex in the City. Still, every now and again one of use would hint at their, shall we say, lack of enthusiasm and we’d all laugh knowingly, then move on to more talk of puke, dribble-bibs or other such highbrow subjects.

Depending on your experience of labour (I haven’t met anyone who loved it yet, tbh), I’d say there is a sliding scale of how weirded out you feel by your body A.D. (After Delivery) It goes from, well-that-was-super-intense to oh-my-freakin-days-whose-boobs-are-these to AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH. Many of us spend a good few months (longer?) feeling our bodies are not our own. So it’s no wonder we aren’t feeling that up for it.

And must give a shout-out to the partners here too. Watching your loved-one give birth may be awe-inspiring but I imagine it is also pretty darn gross! I saw Robbie Williams on the Graham Norton show a while ago and he said “it’s like watching your favourite pub burn down.” Now, obviously Robbie Williams is a dick who prefers to live tweet his wife’s labour than, you know, actually be there for her, but I think he’s probably illustrating a wider issue. I mean, once you’ve seen that you can’t un-see it. Ever.

But I haven’t even got to the best part yet. The most effective form of contraception that arrives after the birth of your first child: That’s right folks, it’s your first child!

bubs CRYING b&W

Screaming babies: nature’s contraceptive.


A little baby sleeping inches from you bed, or indeed in it, every night isn’t exactly an aphrodisiac. In fact, let me rephrase that. A little baby not sleeping inches from your bed every night; that’s the real kicker. When our little ones do eventually drop off at 1am after hours of coaxing and rocking, our priorities tend to be capitalising on a two-hour window for sleep, not having a quicky.

This is all perfectly reasonable, but after a while, if we’re not careful, the guilt starts to creep in. However feminist you think you are, there’s probably some 1940s-BBC-RP voice in the back of your mind shouting “Women of Britain: Do you duty!” It’s nonsense of course. Your duty is to look after yourself and your baby and, hopefully, stay sane in the process. Any partner who doesn’t understand that needs a punch up the bracket I say!

Looking at the NHS website, though, it would seem some women do feel rushed into sex before they’re ready. Why else would the page on episiotomies feature sentences like “If sex hurts, it won’t be pleasurable”, well, that isn’t something that should need saying! Even more worryingly it goes on “If penetration is painful, say so.” I mean, bloody right you should say so, but I would hope the bloke would notice too!!

So, just in case there is anyone reading this post who hasn’t read the NHS website or had other women to talk to, I just need to let you know a few things:

If you don’t feel like having sex after your baby is first born, then don’t worry THAT’S NORMAL. Still feel the same two months later? That is ALSO NORMAL! Still feel like it after a year? Well, to I’m sure that’s pretty normal too, but you might wanna talk to your partner (or someone else) about it, because if sex was fun B.C. (before children) then surely it can be fun A.D.  (It can be, don’t ask me how I know, my parents might read this).

But, basically, your body, which by the way has produced an actual human being, should be respected and given the time it needs to heal. So should your mind for that matter. It seems weird that this is a thing that even needs to be said in 2015, but it probably does, so I’m saying it.


What’s your experience? Has labour put you off sex for life? Or maybe you were the ones getting jiggy on the post-natal ward? Whatever you think do get involved by commenting below!

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Mummy’s First Review: Revel Body SOL (I’m bringing sexy back)

*Fair warning: though there are no details at all divulged in this review, it is for a product of an adult nature, so if you know me and wish to regard me as an asexual being, look away now*

Dear Reader, I have ummed and erred over whether or not to include reviews in this blog. Since 90% of my posts are rants about the avalanche of advice that descends upon parents ‘these days’, it feels a bit hypocritical to then start telling you what and what not to buy for your kids. But, on the other hand, I quite like free stuff, and I also like being critical. Hmm. Dilemma.
Continue reading

Nicki Minaj’s Anaconda: Why I don’t want none, hun.

It may surprise some of you to learn that I am massive hip hop fan; so much so that I’ve been known forgive all manner of misogyny and general foolishness for banging beat and a lyrical flow. But I’ve heard that when you become a parent you suddenly become more sensitised to the world. You are more likely to cry at tragic news stories, rage against injustices and generally be affronted by the naughty shinnanegans that little our global media. 

Is this why, then, when I sat down to watch the new Nicki Minaj video, Anaconda,  (at the behest of a feminist friend) my jaw dropped further and further to the floor whilst the rest of my face gradually screwed up into the very picture of disgust? Is it something about my new maternal identity that made me cover my face with my hands and utter “what?” and “why?” in a sort of frenzy of shock and helplessness as a parade of expletives and buttocks were jiggled before me? Maybe. I’m pretty sure I would have found this video offensive 10 months ago but my indignation is reaching new levels of potency. Hence the following rant.

I feel that the parental advisory label is somewhat redundant.

I feel that, given the cover photo, this parental advisory label is somewhat redundant.


There is a lot of jiggling flesh on offer in this video. Like, A LOT. Various beautiful women lazily shake their ample behinds for the camera. In fact, if you’re not Nicki Minaj then your face is of little import, it seems, cos it’s all about that ass. Other cliched ‘sexiness’ includes an unoriginally provocative banana eating shot and the obligatory fake work out scene featuring a gravity defying pink thong. I’m too weary to get offended by the predictable steamy-girls-winding-together stuff. It’s all so outrageous tha I’m pretty sure Nicki is consciously parodying male rappers who surround themselves with equally faceless smooth-bodied women whilst listing their various sexual exploits. 

Just any idea, though, why couldn’t she have done that with a load of oiled-up men for a change? And what os the need for the – frankly creepy – lap dance scene at the end with her mate Drake? We shall never know friends, we shall never know.

Still, this is nothing more than the logical extension of every other pop video for the last 20 years. Katy Perry with her whipped-cream canister bra in California Girls; Britney in Toxic apparently wearing nothing but rhinestones; Rhianna engaged in some act of bandage or other in practically every video she ever makes nowadays (remember Pon de Replay? Ah, those were simpler times). And these are the videos by women, where they get to use actual words and appear to have some agency and everything! Don’t get me started on the offerings of Usher et al, or that video Satisfaction with the women using power tools from about 5 years ago *shudder*. (Though, incidentally, that does have a YouTube content warning if you try to watch it, which Minaj’s latest offering doesn’t.) 

But the wider point is that Minaj isn’t doing anything new here. She’s just doing it with bigger bums. Which, apparently should empower me. 

So maybe it was the lyrics that offended me. They are filthy, I mean filthy. And I’m no prude. I love a bit of hip-hop, and boasting about prowess in the bedroom is up there with drugs and guns when it comes to subject matter for this genre. But there are A LOT of swears. Dear Reader, I just wasn’t prepared. Too much In the Night Garden has desensitised me to the harsher ways of the world.

Then again, the filth is nothing new either, if anything it’s a reminder of how much misogynistic bullshit  we’ll happily imbibe.  The whole song is a sample of ‘Baby Got Back’, the 1992 Sir Mix-A-Lot hit that has oddly become a sort of family favourite. You know, despite that fact that  it containing lyrics such ‘my Anaconda don’t want none unless you got buns hun.’*; the charming rhyme that Minaj has adopted as her chorus. 

Maybe it was the heart-warming scenes of Ross and Rachel rapping the ditty to baby Emma to make her laugh, or the YouTube sensation caused by an all-American couple who did their hilarious surprise wedding dance to the classic tuuuuune. Had you, like me, forgotten how creepy this song actually was? Have a listen, and be appalled. In fact, Nicki, for giving us the wake-up call we all needed. Now go and wash your mouth out, young lady.


Incidentally, Sir Mix-A-Lot, this is an actual Anaconda and, you know, in your dreams mate. #justsaying

*Incidentally, Sir Mix-A-Lot, this is an actual Anaconda and, you know, in your dreams mate. #justsaying

There’s no doubt Ms Minaj enough knows exactly what she’s doing. You don’t get to be a female icon of the rap game without some serious smarts. Anaconda has gained the accolade of most YouTube watches in 24 hours, snatching the crown from the equally mind-boggling Wrecking Ball by Miley Cyrus, and little bloggers like me around the globe are giving her free publicity. She ain’t no fool! 

But even though I feel better for her that she has some sort of say in all of this and isn’t just desperately flaunting herself in an attempt to gain affection and/or attention (unlike Miley perhaps), that doesn’t make me like it any more. It doesn’t in any way make me feel empowered. Not even a little bit.

Minaj ‘hit back’ at criticism of her single’s ‘artwork’ (see above) by tweeting a Sports Illustrated cover. Yes indeed, Nicki, you are not the only woman whose bum has been flaunted in order to sell something. Good point, well made. And I’m sure that some people don’t like it because you’ve made this choice as a woman; an empowered black woman at that. Theyare, of course,silly little fools. But, mate, it’s still objectification. I don’t care who’s doing the objectification. I don’t care if you’re objectifying yourself in some postmodern beat-them-at-their-own-game endeavour. I certainly don’t think women doing it is better than men doing it for us. We are the worst at this crap. It scares me that in 10 years time my son will be able to peruse scantily clad women on magazine covers at this eye level. But I am not talking about Nuts and FHM (though boo to you); any women’s ‘fashion’ mag will show you far more perfected female body images. Bleurgh!

‘Perfected female images?’ I hear you cry! ‘Why that’s what she is subversively challenging with her in-your-face championing of the curvier figure!’ Really? Really??? If Nicki Minaj weighs more than me I will eat all of my hats. And my socks as well. She is as slim and artificially perfected as any pop star. Some of her pre-photoshop single cover images have been leaked on the internet. Google them if you like, I won’t put them on here because it’s should be a woman’s choice how and if she shows off her body. I recently bore my cellulite to the world in a postbut I wouldn’t impose that on another woman. Any way, however many ‘touch ups’ have been done post-shoot it is clear that this lady does not jiggle in any place that wasn’t designed to be appealing to the male gaze.


Minaj showing off her 'fuller figure'. No wonder she hates all those skinny ass b*tches.

Minaj showing off her ‘fuller figure’. No wonder she hates all those skinny ass b*tches.

All of this, however, I can forgive. I don’t like it, and I hate that this is the sort of imagery that will saturate my son’s mind in the far to near future. I wish I didn’t feel I had to conceal the existence of music channels from him. (Seriously, I want him to think that CBeebies shows and Pointless are all that TV has to offer for an long as possible).

All of the swears and unoriginal music and objectification add fuel to the fiery maternal rage I am experiencing, but it is none of those things that are keeping me up when I should be having my beauty sleep. It is this section of lyrics that I can’t seem to get out of my pretty little head:

Yeah, this one is for my b*tches with a fat ass in the f*cking club
I said, where my fat ass big b*tches in the club?
F*ck those skinny b*tches, f*ck those skinny b*tches in the club
I wanna see all the big fat ass b*tches in the motherf*cking club
F*ck you if you skinny b*tches WHAT?

WHAT? Are exactly my thoughts too, Nicki.

What the asterisk are you going on about? If this is a middle finger up at the white male establishment that has idealised the tall, slim, adolescent girly figure over all others in the past 40 years then it is a bloody well misplaced one. If you really want to challenge the homogenised images of women out there then perhaps you’d be better not to scream obscenities at your less posteriorly endowed counterparts.

I’ll put it this way: Replacing one fetishised, unattainable body image with another is not really progress. Neither is categorising women according to the size of their bottoms, in case you were wondering. *screams into a pillow*

I think my rage has less to do with me being a mother and more to do with  being a woman. A woman who struggles with her own body image and gets angry when new female cabinet ministers are analysed by their outfits more often than their politics. But there is a certain urgency to this anger now. A certain direction. It says, no, this is not bloody acceptable thank you very much. Because I have a precious person to bring up who is going to start learning lots of things beyond my control and I don’t want him to learn this crap. I really, really really don’t.


What do you think? Am I missing the point? Do you feel differently since you had kids? Comment below or visit my Facebook page .