Chicken Licken! Chicken Licken! My skin is falling in!

We live in challenging times. The world is filled with armed conflict, natural disasters, hunger, economic chaos,  and in recent weeks a new scourge to our society has started to gain media attention- that of enlarged pores!

I can barely sleep at night for the worry. According to the experts, if I don’t do something about it soon, I may wake up in the morning with pores you could fit your fist into.  Luckily I think I may have found the answer, and it comes in the handy form of something that does not contain amino-hydroxy-jojoba-fruity-madeup-oils…..a book!

How To Be A Woman by Caitlin Moran is an absolute treat. Although it may not solve the problems faced daily by of tribes-women of Africa, or the social implications of women’s increasing rejection of marriage in Asia, I for one have felt a renewed empowerment.

Although discussions on how wearing Per Una makes you look like a crazy person, the revelation that flat shoes may be more sexy than struggling in heels, or how plastic surgery proponents have “spunked their yacht money” may not have graced the pages of any Germaine Greer, there are serious points made.

Not that you would think this from the scathing attacks from the hardcore bra-burners. In The New Statesman, Julie Bindel accused Moran (and others) of being a ‘fun-feminist’ , and of having “little or no idea about the theory or practice of this movement, take advantage of the benefits that radicals have fought long and hard for, whilst contributing nothing”. Come on Julie, what is wrong with lightening the mood? Do all struggles have to be awkward? From my observation, the women I know are constantly battling with the age old Madonna/whore dichotomy whilst trying to juggle part-time working, childcare, packed lunches and hair appointments. They have very little time to go to the loo never mind ponder the role of their gender within society, but How To Be A Woman does make the ideas accessible. If nothing else, this book will make them (or sneaky male readers, which I would actively encourage) laugh. A lot.

You never know, it could also introduce younger readers to the radical cause, as Bindel sounds like she’d be a right riot down the pub.

Buy it. I’d lend you mine, but the Kindle is the only child who never learned to share.

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