Andrea Edwards

We had the absolute pleasure of staying with our great friends Rob and Jules Scullin on the Gold Coast this weekend. It rained all weekend (as is the case down most of Australia’s East Coast at the moment), but it was a lovely time, and apart from getting three hours sleep on Saturday night (as it was my turn to get up with the boys,) it was great hanging out with great people, drinking excessively and laughing. Something we haven’t been too successful at doing in Noosa, unless friends come to visit. Anyways, Rob and Jules have a gorgeous home in Runaway Bay on the canal. Jules is the brainchild behind the design and it’s a magnificent house – this woman has incredible talent! But they won’t be there for long, as they’ve bought a much bigger house on Sovereign Island, and this is going to be spectacular once done. It’s bloody massive and made our seven bedroom house in Noosa look tiny by comparison. After we viewed the new house in its gutted state, they took us on a drive of the surrounds and my god, you should see these places. There was The Castle, which is designed like a castle (doh!) and boy is it nasty. Then there was the Venetian themed home – replete with full sized silver and gold horses in the driveway, along with golden adornments everywhere – crikey. There were Tuscan themes, French themes, modern garish designs and one massive home that looked like a convention centre. I’ve got to say, many of the houses are monstrous, tasteless and huge, but I couldn’t help but admire the balls of the people who designed and live in them. Although, please note, Rob and Jules’ house does not fit in the garish or vulgar bracket – there’s will be all class, as were many on the Island. Coming home to Noosa Waters, which is very much a retirement village by comparison, it felt mildly disappointing as everyone tends towards the conservative and the tame. Bland colours, smaller scale, no big statements…. Not to mention, everyone in the Waters has very small boats – but maybe they don’t need to compensate up here? The boats on the Gold Coast were gargantuan. In Noosa, most people drive around in pontoon boats, while on the Gold Coast, many of the boats are bigger than most people’s houses. I am definitely appreciative of people who aren’t embarrassed about showing off their money – no matter how garishly – because why should they be? They earned it after all! But as a general rule, Australians don’t tend to be huge fans of ostentatious displays of wealth. I personally love it and the Gold Coast is the place where it is on show for all to see. People drive purple Bentleigh’s, Ferrari’s were a common site, as was every other spectacular sports car imaginable. Noosa Waters’ folk tend to drive 4WD BMWs or Range Rovers in beige, white, black or silver – boring. There are pros and cons to everything. Noosa is stunningly beautiful and it feels like a town, whereas the Gold Coast is built up and it doesn’t feel like it has any heart or community. The way we’ve been feeling about Noosa lately, the Gold Coast wins, but that’s just because we’re not supposed to be here. We’re not supposed to be on the Gold Coast either. We definitely know we’re not ready for the settled life in Noosa or even the Gold Coast, but if I was going to build my dream mansion, we could do worse than the spectacular surrounds of Sovereign Island, not to mention Rob and Jules would be there – bonus. I could definitely get used to excessive champagne consumption while on a boating trip. In the meantime, while we’re still trying to work out what our future’s going to look like, we’ll just have to visit the Scullins and party like rock stars whenever we can. We might need to hire a babysitter for the mornings though… Yours, without the bollocksAndrea

When we arrived on the Sunshine Coast about 15 or so months ago, water restrictions were introduced to Queensland for the first time in history, or the first time in living memory, or whatever first time it was. Anyways, it was pretty dry up here in the tropics until the big WR day came into being, and then, ever since, it’s rained – I think it’s the wettest year in living memory, or maybe since records began! Naturally the drought had to break the year we arrived. Rain and two small boys is never a good combination. But, even with all the rain that’s fallen, they haven’t lifted the water restrictions yet – hello! Anyways, people living to the south of Queensland have been enduring water restrictions for some time, as Australia has just come to the end of a decade of drought. It’s ended now right? Most people in Australia are very responsible in drought time – saving water every step of the way, like taking family showers, never showering for more than three minutes, washing sparingly, watering the garden with grey water, not washing their cars, not putting sprinklers on in the heat of the day, etc… Australian’s commitment to the environment is something that has always impressed me, but then, with the ozone hole overhead, we feel the impact every time we step outdoors. But bring in the Queenslanders and we have a different story. Most people living near us love gardening. I personally hate gardening, so don’t understand the passion, but there you go. The gardens in our neighbourhood (except ours) were amazing. Just look at the grass. The perfection is almost impossible to comprehend and would put most championship golf courses to shame. In fact, many neighbours spent hours and hours and hours working towards this perfection. I’d rather put red hot sticks in my eye, but hey, that’s just me. One of the big no nos with the introduction of water restrictions was the use of irrigation systems. You know the ones that are planted under the ground and you set the timer to get them going? No problem for us because 1. We couldn’t work out how to bloody use it and 2. Even if we did work it out, every metre or so along the line there was a hole in the system that was by now above ground. So if we turned ours on, we’d have a marsh instead of a garden. But our neighbours’ perfect gardens had perfect systems and the sneaky fuckers didn’t think the new laws applied to them. Oh but they knew. Steve, who often has to get up at the hideous hour of 4am to travel for work, was witness to their deception. Everyone just reset their systems to go on when “no one” could see them and every morning around 4am, the gardens of Noosa Waters were replenished with this life giving force. I almost preferred our neighbour. We rarely saw them because it was a holiday home but the gardens never missed a servicing by the most extensive gardening team I’ve ever seen or heard. But at least they were honest. They just kept their system going at 10am every morning and 5pm every night – the boys loved it. So much for all for one and one for all. You don’t mess with people’s gardens in these parts and even if everyone was dying of thirst, I’m sure my neighbours (or ex neighbours now), would still ignore the rules. Sometimes I admire people who break the rules, and often I break stupid rules myself, but other times it’s just obnoxious and selfish, and it’s definitely the latter I’ve witnessed in Noosa. Yours, without the bollocksAndrea

I recently went through the sphincter clenching embarrassment of getting a mammogram. It appears that I am now officially within the age bracket that is required to get a screening done every couple of years. Cool! So I’ve got to ask myself – is all dignity gone now? I mean, from 40, do we just have dwindling dignity to look forward to? God I hope not. Anyways, my gorgeous mate Suzie, also of generous sized mammories, decided to get hers done in Singapore. The reports came in soon-after and apparently it was quite an experience because the machines weren’t big enough to take all of her buxomness – Asian girls do tend to have significantly smaller boobs than us Caucasian chicks after all – the lucky things. So poor Suzie had to get snap shots of bits and pieces of boob for the scan and all the while the woman doing the scan thought it was hilarious. I would not have been happy in that situation, but the legend that is Suzie took it in her stride. So now it’s my turn. I arrived at the clinic with Suzie’s story firmly in my mind, and while I’m pleased to say that machines in Australia are able to cope with any jug size, it’s still a hideous bloody process. They put each boob between two bits of a plastic screen, mention that it might be a little bit uncomfortable and then they pressssssssss! As my boys say – “ouchie!” The image of a pancake did come to mind. Once flattened top to bottom, you then have the added bonus of side to side flattening – the pleasures of being a woman I tell ya. But it was over and done with and I’m pleased to report that I’m clear as a whistle as I expected I would be – there have been no cases of breast cancer in my family that I know of. I’ve also got to say the sort of women working at the clinic were perfect at making me feel comfortable – so bravo Breastscreen Queensland. They were professional yet gentle, had obviously seen it all and they did everything they could to make me feel unembarrassed – a pretty challenging task in its own right. Put simply, it was business as usual for them, but not for me… So even though it was a green light this time, it’s time to accept that as uncomfortable as it is, it’s something I’ve got to do. I just won’t be doing it in any Asian countries. Shit if I did it in Singapore they’d probably bring the entire workforce in for a laugh! And you think I jest? It’s happened when bra shopping in Hong Kong. There’s something strangely weird about other women laughing at the size of your tits I can assure you. Yours, without the bollocksAndrea

Sometimes you come across information that makes you wonder about the future of humanity and this is one of them for me. Hey I admire couples who survive affairs, but if Steve did it, his balls would be gone – immediately. Yours, without the bollocksAndrea

Turning 40 was a bit of a kick in the proverbial nuts – I mean when you start telling people you’re in your 40s you are starting to get and feel old. You notice differences in your skin elasticity, parts of your body ache all the time, wrinkles start multiplying, and Botox becomes a more attractive option. Combine that with living in Noosa, and while this town covers all age and socio-economic groupings, one of the most powerful communities is the retirees. Retirees come to Noosa because it’s stunningly beautiful and the old age/retirement home options are second to none – I mean you can have your own personal chef while sitting on a balcony overlooking the ocean. Definitely the place to come when you are no longer capable of wiping your own arse – however that is the point I’ve decided I’ll be happy to check out of this life or have no memory so I won’t care. This demographic, in Noosa anyway, tends to be very well heeled (there’s a lot of millionaire’s here), and therefore, there is a significant advertising focus for this nest egg of spending money. Steve’s parents left recently, but while here, they thought it would be funny to pick up the “Sunshine Coast Seniors Newspaper.” So we had to have a look! Front page there’s massive advert entitled “Dentures Driving you Mad?” The artwork is beautiful. Then it goes on to financial care for retirees, a $100 payout if you buy an electronic wheelchair from “Scooters and Mobility,” there’s some stunningly comfortable shoe options available for the ladies, quality hearing aid options from a variety of suppliers, a plethora of retirement community adverts, more mobile scooters, as well as tilting beds, tilting chairs, pool and bath hoists (which look remarkably like sex swings), walkers, stair lifts, and you can even be part of a university memory loss and dementia study. Cool. Of course funeral homes and funeral directors get a good stash of advertising space, and the obituary pages are extensive, but before your time comes, you’re encouraged to go on a cruise and play bridge, gamble at the local RSL club, enjoy the scheduled Christmas concerts coming up, and stuff yourself full of vitamins perfect for brittle bones and worn out bodies. I have no issue with retirees I should add – hey we’re all heading there no matter what we think – but I do have an issue living in a town where everywhere I look are reminders of what I’ve got to look forward to. Every shopping area has hearing aid clinics, X-rays for horrible maladies, wheelchair servicing shops, old age communities, frock shops for seniors, and there is not a single shop in this town that doesn’t advertise discounts for senior citizens. I know I’m going to get old, or at least hopefully live as long as I want to, but I can’t keep living in a town that reminds me every day of the destination. It’s going to come when it comes, but I can’t help but think that if I’m made constantly aware of it, then it’s only going to come faster. So leaving Noosa is a priority for us. Not just because of this, but it’s definitely one of my reasons. I am not going to get older any faster than I have to, and I’m more motivated now to stay young for as long as possible in my body, but even more determined to stay young in my mind. I reckon my little lads will help with that – I’m certainly hoping so, because I never want to become irrelevant to them, or an old bag with ignorant fixed opinions in their minds anyway. Wish me luck? Yours, without the bollocksAndrea

I saw an advert the other day for an interview with The World’s Most Handsomest Man, and up pops this debonair looking chap in an Armani suit. Now while I’ve got to say he probably fits the traditional image of a good looking bloke, he certainly isn’t my cup of tea. Certainly handsome, but I definitely like the rugged manly types. Naturally, I had to do a bit of research and find out what it’s all about. I’m not sure if it’s even the same competition I saw advertised, but based on my research, the person won the 2010 “World’s Most Handsomest Man” is Spain’s Guillermo Garcia. Click on the title and you can check him out. We’ll call him Gui for ease. So Gui has some rather gay looking photos on the Website, and he’s obviously worked out, but I think his sideys look a bit muffy, and his sharp long features are almost too perfect. I should be kind though, even if he isn’t my style, because I would look foolish if I denied that he is a good looking fellow. Whenever I come across beauty pageants, it’s alright to admit that I’m always pretty curious about the type of people that enter – men and women. It’s important to state right now that I am not of the opinion that they are all brainless and pretty and not much else, but still, it can’t be much fun being in a competition of this calibre? I mean, imagine agreeing to be judged on every aspect of your person – inside and out – you’ve got to have brick walls of confidence I reckon. According to his profile on the Website “Guillermo Garcia Becerril grew up in Zaragoza, northern Spain. With a degree in Business and Marketing, Guillermo wants to become a TV presenter and to establish his own fashion agency. His hobbies include football, playing piano, and photography. He is also considered as gym-addict. In November 28, 2009, Guillermo won the Mister Spain 2009 title. Guillermo, who stands 6’3.5″ tall, represented his country in Mister World 2010 pageant in South Korea. “Persist and meet your challenges” is his personal motto.” That’s lovely isn’t it? Tall, sporty yet arty, ambitious, motivated, educated, and from one of my favourite Spanish cities. Going through some of the entrants, there’s lots and lots of pretty boys with “magnumesuqe” pouts (aka Zoolander). I have to say that Mr. Serbia stands out for his pouty mouth and underpants/braces combo. Mr. Kuwait definitely had some stuffing in his main photo as was later proven with other less bulbous jock shots. Mr Russia only got five votes – probably due to the density of his blue white skin. Mr Philippines looks like a baby compared to the other blokes. Mr Ireland starts off well until you get to his S&M shots. The jock ripping Joshua from the US needs to enter Mr. Universe – the muscles! And saucy Mr. New Zealand – is that really the best the country had to offer? He does offer some pube viewing tho. Oh I could go on. But what do you reckon? Are these sorts of guys your thing? Who would you have picked? Did they get the result right? Who was your tackiest choice? And have you had fun having a gander at the Website? Kept me busy for a wee while. Although the reality is, there needs to be a competition for chicks like me. Big hunky men, with big muscles, big hearts, and most importantly, mega thighs… oh wait, I’ve got one of them at home. Thankfully I found my most handsomest man – here’s hoping everyone finds theirs! Yours, without the bollocksAndrea

I’m not much of a tennis fan. I used to play it as a kid, but once my gargantuan mammories sprung to life, running sports very quickly took a back seat. I’ve enjoyed watching tennis sometimes, and a posh day at Wimbledon in the corporate seats was enjoyed (along with many champagnes), as well as sharing the day with the yobbos at the US Open way up in the stands. But I mainly enjoyed both because I got to perve at Pat Rafter’s legs at Wimbledon, and Venus Williams legs at the US Open. Both come highly recommended. Anyways, I bought “Open” for Steve, ‘cos I reckon it’s the sort of book that could give him an inspired boot up the arse as he’s not so encouraged by life at the moment, and after weeks of it sitting on his bedside table, and with me needing a break from my meaning of the universe books, I decided to give it a gander. Well let me say, this is one hell of a book. On the front cover it claims to be one of 50 books in the world you can’t put down and it is truly is. Andre is one of those public figures that many of us think we know, but we don’t. He talks a lot about the public perception of him in the media and the statements and qualities attributed to his character and fashion sense, but as he says, he didn’t even know who he was, so he sure was mystified by the facts as imparted by the media. A healthy reminder not to believe everything we read in the media once again. His marriage to Brooke Shields was rather interesting and I’ve got to say she didn’t come across as a particularly deep or meaningful person – not blaringly stated, just inferred. When they met her star was definitely on a downward trajectory and only rose after their relationship took off. Not that he takes the credit I should point out. The thing that really amazed me is his childhood – he was forced to play tennis before he was even born, because his father was determined that one of his children would be a world number one tennis player. A foreigner, his Dad was brutal, and I wouldn’t want a childhood like that for anything. But he talks about his relationship with his mother and father in an honest way and by the end of the book, you can see that there is a level of understanding and no judgement, but it definitely will not be the way he raises his kids. One thing that was probably more surprising is that he hated tennis – HATED it! But he got so far along in the game that he ended up having no other options. He dropped out of school very young, and was on the road until he was 35 hitting that ball. Imagine doing something you hated for so long? Not to mention the intense physical pain he was constantly in with a back issue, but also because tennis is brutal on the body. I didn’t realise how bad it was until I read this book – yikes! Andre is a cool dude I reckon. He’s now a loving husband and father with Steffi Graff (she prefers Stephanie by the way – another media twist), and he’s doing some amazing work in his hometown of Las Vegas, helping poor kids get a better education. I can’t help but admire him more (even though I always liked him in the game) because he comes across as honest all the way through, eloquent even without an education and he didn’t seem to hide much – well we’ll never really know if he did, but it didn’t come across like he did. I have to say, I still don’t understand what really motivated him, you never really get that point clearly, but it sure was an impressive read and I certainly didn’t put it down. I don’t know if it was inspirational though, but certainly an honest account of a very public life. The main point for me, that I took away from reading it is that all we should focus on is being honest to ourselves all the time, or whenever possible if you can’t do it all the time. Yours, without the bollocksAndrea  PS: he’s a bit of a spunk don’t you think? PPS: his hair issues were pretty interesting too.

I’ve just finished a book “Journey of Souls” by Michael Newton, and it’s about where souls journey after they leave our body when we die. It’s a fascinating perspective, but if you’re not into this, please feel free to stop reading now. For those who don’t know, I’ve always been interested in what’s going on “out there,” and while I know I’ll never get to the bottom of it, I definitely have a yearning to understand as much about “the Universe” as I can – the really really big picture. So I read a lot, have successfully learnt to meditate (at last) and try to spend time with interesting people who are also asking similar questions. But getting back to the book. The essence of the book discusses numerous stories of people under hypnosis and the “stages” they go through when immediately leaving the body after death. Then, once in the soul “world,” how they learn and grow, how they reflect on the life experience they’ve just had, and then the process of coming back to a new life/body and why they choose the life they choose. I suppose the thing that got me about this was a comment that all of us are here, in this life and every life we’ve ever lived before, to learn a specific lesson, or to experience something very specific that gives us insight and a chance for growth. It’s not always nice the lessons we choose, but that’s not the point, as all souls are seeking advancement and you can only advance by experiencing the full spectrum of emotions and experiences. In the book, for example, one person had lived a life as a physically strong Nordic Viking in one life and later as a little girl who had her legs crushed and was crippled for the rest of her life. One was abandoned in this life only to find that the person who abandoned him was the same person he condemned to death in a previous life. There are lots of case studies in this book, which makes it even more personal and revealing I suppose. But it’s gotten me thinking. What is my “soul’s purpose” in this life? Why did I choose my parents? Why am I like I am – always on the go, moving and changing things, ambitious but not in a traditional way, in a rush, curious, never satisfied and wanting more – not money, just growth I suppose – and then why did my boys choose me as their Mum? What’s our connection? And I know that Steve and I are soul mates (that was a foregone conclusion the night we met), but what has been our past connection? Actually I did a past life regression not long ago and Steve and I were lovers then – he the woman and me the man – me a warrior of course. It’s interesting stuff. So am I doing what I need to do in this life to grow? Am I working towards what my soul set out to achieve when it took up in this carcass? Or have I missed my purpose? Am I supposed to learn to be calmer? And if so, is that why my boys chose me as their mum to give me the hardest patience lesson of them all? I mean many people I know have chilled out kids, I don’t, which isn’t a surprise, but is that why? Are they part of my tool belt for learning the lesson to chill and be more peaceful? I’m trying boys, but you certainly push me over the edge sometimes – thanks!!! Or is it compassion that I’m supposed to learn? But I think I’m compassionate. Am I supposed to learn the lesson of freedom from society’s constraints? I think I’ve got that down pat and I’m working hard to find a new path. Maybe it’s to calm down my frantic mind once and for all and not be in a rush all the time? I don’t know. I obviously need to meditate on that question. But when you think about this stuff, it makes you look at everyone you meet with different eyes. If you think about it, sometimes you meet people who are lazy bastards, who have no drive, no ambition and often you find it hard to understand how they can’t be more driven. However, if you believe in this stuff, maybe that person’s soul decided to have a rest this time round because the last life was so intense? I wonder about people who reincarnate as human monsters, such as most members of the Taliban appear to be. Imagine making that decision? Or the women born into these societies and the horrendous shit they endure? If you consider many of the arguments about souls, the victims were often the perpetrators in past lives and have made a choice to experience the “opposite.” Whereas the perpetrators in this life might have been victims in a past life and need to “see” things from the other side? Who knows… Of course, some souls decide to be born with a disability, understanding that life will be harder for them and that, by making this decision, their goal is to grow beyond physical limitations – a tough one. Some are born into abusive situations to learn the lessons there. Some are born into incredible wealth and power, loving and consuming it all for themselves, or maybe in this life, they learn to be generous with their wealth? Gaining soul “points” I suppose. If you look around your community or the world, many people have made hard life choices with the world in its current state huh? One of the things I’ve been coming to understand in the last 12 months is that there is no right or wrong, there are only perceptions. We all decide what is wrong or right every day, many times a day, but I’m coming to the conclusion that all I need

I’m not the sort who lunches very often. I generally don’t enjoy it and it always takes away my time which needs to be focused elsewhere. Yesterday I was asked by my neighbor to lunch because her Mum was in town, and it was asked in a way I couldn’t refuse – bummer. So for one day, I agreed to be a lady who lunches. We’re living in a resort-style complex while we try to work out what the fuck we’re going to do with our lives, and it’s attached townhouses – three up/two down – it’s perfect for now but we can’t wait to get out. Anyways, we’d been here a month before our neighbors finally spoke to us. It was their boat that got smashed up by the twister I witnessed and the letter I wrote ensured the insurance was paid. They were appreciative and we got our first delivery of chocolates. Then there was a box of chocolates for Halloween, a bottle of champagne for letting them use our garage for their garage sale, and the thoughtful little neighborly gifts kept coming. The lady of the house, who I’ll call Delilah, is an incredibly sweet and thoughtful woman and she’s PASSIONATE about cooking. And boy, can this woman cook. She turned up to Lex’s 4th b’day with a platter of cheese sticks, homemade of course, beautifully wrapped and presented. She really is a lovely giving person. Delilah stood off us for a long time as I said, but now she has befriended us, saying we’re the best neighbors she’s ever had – amazing considering the hubbub that must come from our quarters. She’s a very strange lady tho. She doesn’t speak with an Australian accent – it’s kind of a posh international accent that doesn’t win many favors around these parts – I think it’s just too weird for most Aussies. She dresses the same every day – pressed white shorts, a polo-ish shirt tucked in and belted, and she’s always donning Italian loafers that she buys on holidays when in her husbands’ home country. Delilah wears too much make-up and in her own special way is perfectly quaffed at all times. The thing that makes her extra strange is she is very tall and VERY VERY skinny. You know sometimes the way people look makes it hard to look at them? She is one of those folks. I don’t know why she has taken to me – maybe my time in Singapore endears me to her because she spent her teens there – but she does like me for some reason. I also know why I like her – she’s sweet, nice and even though she’s strange, there’s something in her that’s very endearing – I can honestly say I’ve never met anyone like her, and that appeals to me immensely. But Delilah is intensely lonely. I just know that most people stand right off her because she is so strange to look at and listen to, and I know that she isn’t the sort of person who’s ever had that best buddy to fall back on. She’s replaced the lack of company with ambition, focus and a relentless drive to improve herself. Hey she speaks six languages! Delilah is 48 and married to an Italian Australian of 63. All of their friends are in his age group and she looks older because of this. He’s been married and had kids before and they hate her. She can’t even go to her dying mother-in-laws bed because of the hatred. Being a step child, I wish I could say to them grow up, accept your “step mother” because your Dad has decided that she makes him happy – it’s time to get on with it. The relationship with her “step kids” is ugly and ostracizes her even more. It makes me feel sad. But yesterday I meet her mum. The first thing I notice is the teeth – my word, that woman needs braces. I’ve never seen so many teeth bunched up in someone’s mouth. She lost everything 10 years ago, and four years ago she lost her husband who couldn’t cope with losing everything. They’d always been rich, now she’s on a single pension and cleaning other people’s toilets to make ends meet. She isn’t bitter by life, but I didn’t feel too much joy either. She wants to find a man and I hope she does. Everyone needs company. As Delilah was dashing away to get the homemade cheese, homemade bread, homemade pickles, and everything else that was yummy and homemade (except the salad dressing, which was surprisingly in a bottle), Mum told me her story. And she told me Delilah’s story. When Delilah was 15 she was offered a scholarship to UWC in Singapore and her mum knew that she had to let her go and take advantage of this opportunity. However, once Delilah left, her Mum said that was the last time she saw her little girl. Delilah came back anorexic and 30 years later, she still is. Her mum worries about her every day and I wonder how anyone could suffer for so long from such a debilitating disease and can’t even imagine what’s going on inside her head and how she perceives herself. Imagine 30 years of anorexia? Imagine the state of her bones? Her overall health? I asked them both if they were living the life they thought they’d be living at this point in their lives and both of them said no, but you’ve got to keep fighting. Delilah recently lost her job too – she’s feeling very lost as her career has been almost as important as her husband. She never had kids because of her career and while I can’t imagine her frail body being able to carry a child, it made me feel sad that here she was, directionless and unemployed, because that has been the core of her identity and her reason for living.

It seems a few are interested, so I wanted to add to my earlier blogs on a disturbing trend amongst young girls these days – that of getting ones’ vagina surgically “neatened.” Boys, I know I’ve mentioned the V word, but it would be great to get your perspective here. Anyways, I posted a blog about a trebling in young gals getting their vag’s prettied up, but I didn’t mention that this was only statistics for publicly funded operations in Australia, aka Medicare. When factoring in private ops, the stats are at much more frightening proportions, with one private practitioner suggesting the increase could be 10-fold in the last decade – yikes!!!! Now surgery, for any reason, ain’t fun, so can you imagine the self image issues going on out there amongst young girls to make them do something like this? But here’s the question that keeps cropping up in my mind and where I want the boys opinion. Do boys want girls with pre-pubescent looking vags? Because if they do, isn’t that even more frightening? As most young girls aren’t gobbling up all the porn they can get their hands on, unlike their male counterparts, the only other reason I can see for the increase in surgery is due to all of the waxing going out there. As more girlie bits are revealed due to less camouflage, I believe this could be a reason for the rearrangement of the flange. Oh and my porn reference was purely because the girls aren’t necessarily seeing the plastic vags on display in these movies and therefore, this can’t be the cause of them wanting to change things… unless their menfolk are suggesting it? Or are more young girls watching porn? Whatever the reason, I do think there seems to be a very deep seated issue going on here but this stuff isn’t new for females throughout history. I mean women in China were considered delicate and feminine if they bound their feet – if you ever read “Wild Swans” you’ll remember the horrendous description of this ‘beautification” procedure. But then, women used to remove their bottom ribs to get a smaller waist in the Western world, and of course there’s female genital mutilation. Oh sorry, there’s also skin whitening products, some of which have so many poisons in them, the women are breaking out in cancers all over their bodies, because you look richer when you’re fairer – bollocks! I could go on and on and on. The desire for beauty has always been bollocks and unrealistic. I often wonder when are we going to get back in touch with what’s important in life? Such as our minds and our hearts? So many women suffer so much shit all around the world, and yet we spend more time, money and effort on cosmetic changes to ourselves, when what we should be doing is saying enough to the beauty industry and taking their power away. Then maybe we could focus our efforts on helping others who really do need a leg up? An idealist? Well nothing wrong with hope. I really thought that Eve Ensler, who wrote and performed “The Vagina Monologues” did an amazing job in bringing the whole ‘let’s talk about vaginas’ to the public domain. But it appears that more needs to be done to get girls back on track and in control once again – in a positive way. Oh and everyone should read this book or see a performance – it will rock your world. Seriously, if girls think they need to tamper with this part of their body to feel beautiful then we have a very serious issue that needs to be handled and handled bloody quickly. I’m just so thankful I don’t have a daughter. It was tough being a teenage girl when I was one, but could you imagine what it’s like now? “How was your weekend?” said Stella. “Great. I got my flaps reduced and righty is now the same size as lefty. I also got some of my clitoral hood reduced and when it’s healed, the doctor said I should definitely consider a reduction in my labia minora,” exclaimed an excited Brittany. “Oh you’re so lucky! My mum is adamant I can’t get any surgery done on my vag. She’s so yesterday!” I thought I’d take the opportunity to brainstorm some suggestions on tackling this issue? Any thoughts to add? And boys, seriously, it would be GREAT to hear your thoughts. Here are some ideas to help women get more in touch with (ooh err) and accepting of their snatches as nature intended them to look:   Vaginal sculptures on the main streets of cities – kind of like the cow expo – with the same idea of being decorated by local artists? Maybe Eve Ensler (aka Vagina Monologues) could do something for young women? A funny movie, article for teen magazines that goes global? A famous photographer could do a snatch exhibition – Annie Lebowitz maybe? The purpose being that we’re all different but the same, because let’s face it, we don’t look at our own often, let alone anyone else’s – so maybe an equaliser? Kids TV shows could do a fair bit here, maybe incorporating a story line about the issue – I mean talking about it is the best way after all.. one of the young things on “Home and Away” or “Buffy” could go through a snatch crisis??? What else? What do you reckon? How can we stop this voluntary female circumcision? Because that’s essentially what it is, minus the removal of the clitoris! Yours, without the bollocks Andrea