Top Five Lady Inventions
It’s wicked being a woman. Honestly, it’s swell. We have tits, can talk about our feelings and shit without cringing and we are born with inherent knowledge of how to do the Macarena and Whigfield’s ‘Saturday Night’. However, there’s always ways to make the world easier, so here’s my list of
TOP FIVE lady type things I wish would HURRY UP and be invented:
• Tights that do not ladder. Allow this flimsy leg gossamer, I need a pair of opaques that can hold their denier as I elbow my way onto the northern line at 8.14am, lunge across a bar in a gin haze twards a knee-jellyingly handsome (probably gay) man and again as I attempt to not fall arse over tit whilst I descend the stairs as the bus is still moving (seriously though that shit should be an Olympic sport).
• Spanx which don’t make you look like you’re wrestling with an unruly giant elasticated condom. Because we wear Spanx in the hope of enticing (or should I say, fooling) unsuspecting men to sleep with us, yet take my word for it, yet once you have LURED it sort of kills the moment when you have to pause the sexy shennanigans to remove said spanx and realise the only way to do so is to roll them down from just below your tits in a big Cumberland sausage type affair. Just you try and sustain that erection now fella. Actually it’s a pretty good way of sorting the sexual wheat from the chaff. (I really want a Cumberland sausage now.)
•Mascara which makes your eyelashes look like they do on the advert. That note that sometimes appears underneath Eva Longoria’s pouty smoulder that reads *photograph has not been digitally enhanced*? COME ON LORD LOREAL WE’RE NOT IDIOTS. Twenny minutes I just spent applying that shit and my eyelashes look less like a delicious bushy hedgerow, more like a few half-arsed spiky twigs that have already been fetched by Fido. Also I have a fairly decent working knowledge of Photoshop. In fact, me and the liquefy function are in a deep yet unhealthy relationship. Realised this when I threw a pantrum in the post office last week when I realised I couldn’t slim down my face on my new driving licence picture. Wounded.
• Heels that don’t hurt. Girls there is no need to claim that you’re one of the chosen ones who isn’t affected by the five-inch ball-burn (ball of the foot you filthy lot). WE KNOW THE PAIN. SOLIDARITY IN OUR SUFFERING. Also wtf is with this trend now for these clumpy high heels that look like hooves?! Since when was Mr Tumnus a style icon? (side note- would you bang James McAvoy as Mr Tumnus? I know he’s half goat or whatevs but I think I still would you know. Similar conundrums faced with King Triton, Firenze the centaur and Mufasa. Answers on a postcard).
•Bikini waxes that don’t hurt. Actually NAHHHH scrap that, let’s instead just invent a new sociological perspective which doesn’t find female pubic hair repulsive and grotesque. Dunno about you ladies but I’m pretty sick of being spread-eagled on a kleenex covered massage bed listening to panpipes and whale music whilst a bored GHD’d beautician asks me to ‘spread my cheeks’. I can think of nicer, less expensive and more pain-free ways to spend my Saturday mornings tbh. Hurry the hell up and get over it guys, they’re just pubes.
AM I RIGHT LADIES?!