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It is completely amazing to me the faces that people can pull when you’re having an innocent conversation about anal bleaching. Not people involved in the conversation, you understand, but people listening in from an adjacent restaurant table.

Admittedly, it’s a risqué subject over dinner but, in a world where we are subjected daily to a thousand reasons why women “should” hate, despise and criticise their appearance, it seems valid to have an interest in why a woman would use the stuff.

Does she so hate having skin-coloured skin that she feels compelled to change it? Will she even be able to see the results without resorting to contortionism? I have no idea. Neither did my dinner companion. And nor, it would seem, did the angry-looking lady sitting at the next table, pulling faces. Perhaps our chat had reminded her that she needed to stock up. Who knows?1382089_10151627534036863_896195932_n

More shocking to me than the concept of discussing bums over a fancy pork dinner, is the fact that we aren’t supposed to talk about these things. If the world is so concerned with the skin on its backside, why is that a secret? I can’t really understand the concept of “not supposed to talk about” something. I’ve never been any good at repressing my thoughts. I’m THAT person who says what everyone else is quietly thinking

And so, it would seem is Lily Allen. Three cheers for Lily, who is shown in her new video for Hard out Here dancing about in front of large, shiny balloons that spell out “Lily Allen has a baggy pussy”.  Nice one Lily – a fantastic two fingers up (if you’ll excuse the expression) at the world of misogynistic expectations of women’s bodies.  I wonder if she gets funny looks in restaurants for talking about the effects of childbirth on her undercarriage?

Most of the women I know are delighted by Lily’s statement (but probably less so by my talking about bums whilst they eat their crème brûlée) because she’s said what we’re all thinking.

So, do you know what? I for one am going to stop apologising for saying out loud the crazy ramblings in my head. I’m known for being “too honest”, whatever that means. And most of my favourite people are just the same. But I don’t want to support the concept of keeping things under-wraps so that the world can pretend they’re not happening. And so here I find myself, blogging about bums. My mother will be so proud.

I understand that not everybody is comfortable with quite so much brutal honesty.  You might be horrified by the thought of being seated next to the table where those women are discussing whatever supposedly “forbidden” topic they’ve chosen to dissect along with their cheese and biscuits.

So I promise, I’ll keep the volume down in restaurants when I can. But quite seriously, if you happen to be on the next table, and you want to join in, please pull up a chair, grab a glass, and tell us about what happened when you tried that particular taboo. We won’t pull any faces. We might even share our wine and a few stories with you. We’ll definitely applaud your honesty and downright defiance in the face of “mustn’t”, “shouldn’t” and “won’t”.

Oh, and if you’re Lily Allen and you find yourself at the next table, come say hello. We’d love to take you and your baggy bits dancing. Only one rule: no twerking 😉

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