...so of course I don’t have anything else to think about.

Thank God for Mia Freedman and her blog. If it wasn’t for her I would never have heard about My New Pink Button, which is a wonderful new product for women whose lady bits are just not quite that perfect shade of pink.

My New Pink Button (such a cute little name, isn’t it?) is like lipstick for your down-there lips and stops you having to feel all self-conscious about your lack of pinkness when you are out shopping or making biscuits or darning your husband’s socks.

It was lucky I saw it too; I don’t usually read Mia’s blog because even though she’s got children and a husband, she still does all that silly writing and thinking about things. I don’t understand why she needs to bother, she’s married now, she doesn’t need to prove anything anymore, and, as I keep telling my daughter, you can have brains or you can have nail polish, but no self respecting woman can have both.

I know this because I am very well informed on Women’s Issues - I read Cleo and Cosmo and Marie Claire. I know how important it is to travel and buy clothes and, by the way, STOP EATING, and how I should feel really good about myself as a woman even if I’m fat (which is disgusting) or older than 22 (which is only OK if I don’t have any wrinkles because wrinkles are worse than cancer) and STOP EATING and that every woman should know how to swing from a trapeze, naked except for a python and a diamond encrusted g-string because men need lots of variety in the bedroom to keep them interested.

I also know all about how important it is to be a totally independent woman and be able to go on holiday by myself and not care about how pointless life is if you’re single, because that is the best way to catch a man and also, STOP EATING. I even know about how every woman should have a proper career - as long as it’s fabulous, if it’s not fabulous then there is just no point turning up to work every day and women who are not totally fabulous should stop work and start their own blog (which even the most illiterate and talentless of women can do) because all those pesky rent and bills problems don’t matter to women at all.

My goodness, I am getting all scattered and disjointed here, aren’t I? But that’s OK, being illogical and over-emotional is how I prove to men that I have heaps of womanly charm.

Now, where was I? Oh yes, the latest thing on my very long list of Why I Am Not Good Enough: my whisker-biscuit is the wrong colour. Well, good, because I was starting to get a little bored with only having the size of my arse and my shoe collection to worry about, and truthfully, I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of it myself. My skin, my hair, my eyes, my teeth, my arse and my nails are all the wrong colour, so why wouldn’t everything else be too?

At least I can paint my last remaining naturally coloured bit an unnatural colour myself, because between all my spray tan and anal bleaching appointments I just don’t know where I would find the time to see a Professional Paramedical Esthetician (which is the very reassuring and impressive title of the inventor of My New Pink Button).

The only problem is that My New Pink Button is being sold through Amazon, which I think is a little bit intimidating. The government should insist that there is a woman’s only Amazon, so I don’t have to feel threatened by all the men asking belligerent questions and demeaning me all the time. How can I be a properly independent woman if there is no-one there to protect me from being demeaned?

It’s all just so oppressing; maybe I’ll just put my feet up and read the new Cosmo, that will make me feel much better.

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