From here on in I propose the Baggy Pussy Brigade or Lily's Baggy Fanny Fan Club. Who wouldn't want to join such a salubrious sounding group? Fxxk fanny flying ping pong balls - our kind of Bangkok Babes will be popping forth basket balls. Yikes did I just write that?
Wordsmith, Author and Accidental Mother
Lana Citron is the author of five novels, (inc; The Honey Trap, The Brodsky Touch) one non-fiction book, short stories, film scripts, radio plays and poetry. Her work is published all over the world, US, Japan Europe and the UK. Her last book, 'A Compendium of Kisses' was described by the Economist as, ‘an intellectual and indulgent treat; every dip will prompt a smile, a shock or perhaps even a thrill.’ a wonderful and comprehensive book on all things osculatory.’
Bear said he was only trying to help. Bear said it was a temptation too much. Bear reached his hand further over the edge, scooped a handful of soil and drew it to his mouth.
30/10/2013 13:23 GMT
My mind is a soup of feminist thoughts what with the present renaissance. Finally, feminism is no longer a dirty word and those <em>rabid ugly women with penis envy </em>no longer front the various movements. Vive la revolution.
22/10/2013 18:05 BST
The Bear bites. He was teething and nipped; lips, cheeks, necks, collar bone and fingers. Word quickly spread of his clenching jaws. Our Bear was a nipper. Few could believe such an angelic boy, a font of joy would do such a thing.
15/10/2013 11:53 BST
Together Bear and the Milk Lady persevered, practicing every few hours. At times the Milk Lady felt alien - not like an earth mother at all.
08/10/2013 13:34 BST
In the beginning was the word and word was Agh. As with everything in the Bear's life, it happened almost imperceptibly. Mornings would begin with Bear Song, a definitive 'Agh', the opening of big brown eyes and a milk tooth smile.
30/09/2013 13:28 BST
I wonder if it's a female thing this propensity to apportion blame on oneself for a relationship disaster. I can't recall many of my male friends blaming themselves for their love affairs going tits up... whether it is or isn't gender specific, it's a meaningless moan.
17/09/2013 11:32 BST
The International Junkie rages in three different languages. We hear her, below our window. It is late September, I am in Barcelona with friends staying in a house along the narrow streets of Barcelonetta.
10/09/2013 12:40 BST
So there we were at the end of a journey and the beginning of a lifetime. These past nine months have been the longest, shortest, most confounding emotional roller coaster since... well, probably since the first time round...
23/04/2013 18:28 BST
We have been on a journey for 13 summers. Just the two of us travelling to infinity and beyond, adventure after adventure, hiding out in makeshift dens, hopping on island cushions, gladiators on sheepskin carpets, scaling furniture, bouncing on beds, sofa snuggling, conquering long rainy days.
15/04/2013 17:50 BST
I don't get it. What is it with women? As a gender we seem to be our own nemesis. The rubbish we tell/sell ourselves is far more detrimental to the modern female psyche than the shit men mete out.
07/04/2013 23:15 BST
They say a picture paints a thousand words....
31/03/2013 14:27 BST
Over the past nine months of appointments, I hadn't seen the same midwife once. Pushed into the position of pregnancy slut - hopes for an actual relationship scuppered early on. It was never anything more than a one 'meet' stand.
21/03/2013 17:40 GMT
"What does one do when contractions begin?" My arm shot up. I knew this one. "Scream," I answered. This response was met with disdain: "Wrong... You need to be in control. Screaming evokes the idea of someone who has lost control." I suddenly came over all John McEnroe. Was she serious? She could not be serious? How could she possibly say that?
14/03/2013 07:58 GMT
This week the bump took command of the mothership. All things ego related receded into the background as I prepared for metamorphosis, from woman to 'mother' or 24 hour service station. Branded with a thick black line, a primal print of 'Keep Off' ran the length of my curvature.
06/03/2013 21:31 GMT
In a grey stone church in Dublin, I watched myself from a time since past; as a seven year old, Jewish girl wanting to belong. The place was full of people, though none were praying and nothing was quite what it seemed to be.
25/02/2013 18:17 GMT
I reckoned if reflux was the worst of my symptoms, I was doing good. Okay, so I would prefer it if my arse didn't completely sag and my ankles didn't swell to the size of my thighs and....
18/02/2013 21:35 GMT
It happens - someone contacts you from a time way back - when half your present size, you shook your tail feather and tickled your fancy.
11/02/2013 23:04 GMT
I have always enjoyed a solitary state without distractions, so I can 'away with the fairies' or lose myself in the lull of a soft breeze, carrying smatterings of conversations, bird song, the distant flow of traffic, barks, bells, road works and that which is named silence in a city such as this.
04/02/2013 23:50 GMT
Yes after 42 years, my long cherished independence was under imminent threat. My single days cooked. I was 'caving in', going to live with - you guessed it, the Glam Rocker. This was a completely unnatural scenario for me.
28/01/2013 23:41 GMT
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