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June 26, 2006

Caitlin Moran

Err, can someone send round the writing fairy to touch me with whatever wand has hit Caitlin Moran:

Of course, there are some women who are almost permanently fruity, the kind of lithe-limbed, big-hipped, sultry-eyed foxines who move in their shift dress like it’s having sex with them, and who can make standing in a queue for customer service at John Lewis look like the kitchen-table scene in The Postman Always Rings Twice. That’s great. They can carry on. I’m sure they will. Girls like that don’t stop for anyone, from what I’ ve heard. But for the rest of us, who are stomping around like amiable but slightly pressurised stegosauruses, there are certain things we should finally put our feet down about and say “No! This is STUPID! Trying to look sexy at 2.32pm in Dixons is THE GAME OF A FOOL!” Come on — let’s admit it all now, in a cleansing rush. Short skirts make you nervous, and you keep having to pull them down every three minutes. Low-cut tops preclude running, lest Right Said Fred pop out.

Really tight jeans cut you in half if you sit down. Long nails render you semi-paraplegic. Lipgloss sticks your hair right across your mouth and eyes, and is an exercise little more refined than rubbing a lollipop on your lips, anyway. False eyelashes fall off and make you freak out because you think a spider has just run into your bra. Hair extensions are an unwitting marker of who will be first up against the wall come the revolution. And high-heeled shoes — the thing women are supposed to fetishise above all else — just don’t work. They might look fantastic on the shelf, or in a photograph, but you can’t walk in them or dance in them, and they make you wince so much that you have to get your whole head Botoxed lest anyone mistake you for Zelda from the Terrahawks. And they don’t, contrary to all received wisdom, make your legs look thinner. There is a precedent for a big fat leg ending with a spindly point — and it’s on a pig. Wear flip-flops! That way you won’t be walking around like Tina Turner negotiating a cobbled hill. If you ask any woman when she really feels sexy, it’s invariably when she’s either a) wearing a well-fitting outfit that covers anywhere she is uncomfortable about, in a colour that makes her eyes look nice, or b) having sex. Thongs never come into it.

June 26, 2006 | Permalink


I love the bit how long fingernails make your legs kind of not work. That's my favorite part.

Posted by: Emily | Jun 26, 2006 4:55:14 PM

It's unusual, thanks to the quirks of spinal physiology, for people to end up with functional legs and non-functional arms. However, the term 'paraplegic' would be a perfectly legitimate one for someone who did. I think this might be Ms Moran's point...

Posted by: john b | Jun 26, 2006 8:39:11 PM