If you have a vagina it is offensive!

Yes - that's right, not my words, no the words of written law. Vagina's are too offensive and need to be "tidy" to be shown. In other words, any vagina that goes out into the public sphere has to be digitally hacked. Parts of a woman's downstairs is completely removed to appear more nice....instead of normal. Basically the equivalent of photo-shopping a naked man's balls off because they simply are not aesthetically pleasing.

Woman in soft core men's porn magazines must emulate a Barbie dolls smooth spot between her legs, instead of god forbidding having any kind of labia. That dirty little word does not sit well with the big wigs so it is simply cut out, removed, scraped because it is deemed not "tidy."

Balls are not tidy but if we brushed them out of images imagine the up roar, imagine the people screaming how it is warping little boys image of themselves and how people are playing God. Yet when it is done to women, people muse silently and mummer discomfort.

Labiaplasty, or vagina surgery is on the rise because girls feel like they look abnormal because what they see down there isn't what they see in front of them. They feel less like a woman and more like a freak - all because they have a body part that Australia decided should not be shown.

It is time to no longer be silent about this issue. Mia Freedman has documented this issue which you can read about here and here on her blog.

We are women and we have labia's, deal with it.

I encourage everyone to watch the below video - it is an education we all need.

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Hey America! Don't be hating

Ok so what do these images below all have in common? Yes all fierce poses but no not quite that.

HOLD THE PHONE - they are either gay or play gay characters - HOW DARE THEY!

Open your eyes America the people you laugh along with on TV, giggle at their witty blogs and drink the wisdom they offer with their news broadcasts love the peen!

PENIS PENIS PENIS PENIS.

Now I'm sure your argument is "i love gays they are great - i even have a friend that's gay - but i just don't want to see that." Oh the old my friend is gay line. Kind of like the "No offence, but." No amount of cushion is hiding the fact 'you a homophobe!'

Now I wish I could tell people to stop their ways if it made me uncomfortable - their would be no male spitting, no girls in denim skits, no goth outfits, no red necks, no people that say you's, no Kanye West CAP use and no couples licking each others faces (icky icky poo) but oh that's right, i can't tell someone how to live their lives, what choices they make, how to express their love, what clothes to wear or what bodily functions to control.

Because there is this little thing called - human rights - the belief that all individuals have equal rights, equal opportunity, fair treatments and the right to live free of discrimination.

So suck it up America - stop putting "safety shields" in front of Elton John & his family -- seriously you let your child watch Jersey Shore where people drink, beat on each other and sleep with randoms, but god forbid they see a happy family!

You happily watch the Kardashian's swear and wax each others va-jay-jay but no you are not prepared to see two guys kissing in a club!

While you may not feel comfortable seeing two men in love or two men kissing, that's ok, but don't stop them from being who they want to be. Let them stand proud. Do I feel totally comfortable when I see two men kissing? No - because this natural relationship is hidden away from us, we don't see it on the TV, in the news, in the magazines or on the street. The more you see it as completely normal the more comfortable you will be, none of us were comfortable with Demi & Ashton getting it on but they have flooded the media and now we cool with it.

Oh and to open another can of worms - God loves all his children and if you don't that's your problem, God doesn't ask you to spread hate, but to spread love - He asks you to love thy neighbor, and that includes your sassy queen across the hall.

Oh and before you get your panties in a twist - Ellen's GAY!

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I found him, Mr.Wedge

Yes, I have found him, Mr. Wedge. I have announced my commitment to this dear old sole. We have enjoyed many, many nights together, for he can go all night long - unlike his sister, Miss. Stiletto.

That's right, I have sworn off high heels and will only wear wedges. I'm tired of being part of this sick lie us women generate that heels "are really really comfortable!" When a woman says her heels "are really comfortable" it simply means "I'm really surprised, my cuticles are still in tact!" and "yeah I don't feel like a Japanese Lilly Foot woman."

Enough, I won't be part of this conspiracy any longer! My other half was born in the 1930's (and only gets better with age!) by a genius Italian designer, but while they were made as orthopedic (wash your mouth out!) shoes they soon became the fashion must have. Obviously. They are comfortable and fashionable, 'nuff' said.

It is the wedge time, Sportgirl is dripping with options that make me feel like Mariah Carey and every other brand has got a line of wedge options. I am in a wedge wonderland - I just hope it lasts and we aren't left with cork options as our only choice.

I will love you till the day I die Mr. Wedge.

Please lust over my next wedge purchase from Lipstik, which you can purchase here.

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You're not in a reality show

I believe I live two vastly different lives. One in my head and one in the real world. The life in my head is somewhat how I picture a reality show would be, dramatic, awkward long pauses, full make in the day and little to no actual work done. Oh and I wear the most beyond attire.

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Now my real life - wake up, go to work for 8 hours, come home, go to the gym, eat dinner, watch TV, go to bed - wash and repeat.

Nowhere does my real life scream reality show, yet I still believe I can somehow work in various aspects of a reality show life in with my real actual life.

Case in point, fashion. Reality show me thinks it would be a fabulous idea to purchase a red, floppy felt hat, as it is very J.Lo and will protect from sunlight, seeing straight and paparazzi. Real life me questions if this will be like when i purchased a red sequined berat? Answer, most likely. Considering I work 40 hours a week indoors, i really don't see where i would wear it. Well that's a lie, reality show me envisions me wearing it to hip cocktail parties in the park, picnics with fellow edgy fashionistas & those clubs wear girls wear doc martins & the boys wear jeans that turn their masculinity into more femininity.

Oh that's right that's not my life at all! [Insert awkward long pause]

Do you have trouble shopping for real life you?

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It was a Monday & my brain checked out

Break ups are funny things. They have the ability to turn a completely stable person to the point of no return. As I have experienced this past week.

I don’t mean to brag about my mental stability but if I were to have a diagnosis on my bodies psychology, words such as calm, patient and shows tendencies to “check out” of intense emotional situations would be thrown around. Yes, in other words I would be described as a clam.

I loved my clam. My clam was cosy and safe, nothing got us down, until last week. Some may be assuming this is my first break up but no, my heart has been ripped in two before and I reacted the way any normal 18 year old would. I cried, I ate chocolate and I ripped up old photos. All regular post break up behaviour and rather quiet boring to note.

But alas, as I have grown older I have not grown wiser. With the introduction of social media platforms, relationships have become rather tricky. When do you change your status to in a relationship, do you delete past partners, can you comment on the opposite sex’s picture or can you private message the opposite sex? This isn’t even taking into account the anxiety that comes after a night out and you wonder if any tagged pictures will be questionable.

Online social media has made relationships stressful! We can now track our partner’s viral footprint, being able to locate exactly where they are at any second. I guess Mark Zuckerberg did not believe in the old adage, ignorance is bliss.

Oh to face the simple problems Dylan and Brenda did, it makes you look at the home phone line as this sexy piece of history. While I have zero facts to base this on, I believe there would have been less straying back then. Why? There was no temptation, but with Facebook you can view and pounce on any girl or guy all from behind a screen.

So what did I do that was so crazy and why is Facebook to blame, plus how do I know how to purchase genital crabs? Stay tuned...

A poem with no rhyme

Take me back to the time we met,

Where the wind was my friend and time grew with simplicity,

Let me see your eyes again,

With fleeting hope,

Naivety was your best friend,

Let me smell my burning youth and hear our futures roar with love,

Let our minds wonder with 'maybe's' and 'could we's' and the youthful illusion of perfection,

Let me feel your hand again,

It dripping in chance and seeking lust,

Let me float in your safety.

Take me back to the time we met,

Of playing with white flags and seducing hope...

A tale with no ending

The tale of two young lovers is both luminous and painful. We all hide our first love deep within our souls. The heart crushes when we realise the feeling of youthful optimism dies and the perseverance to sustain the passion of true love is replaced with other checklists. It no longer becomes a love of two hearts but of bank balances or ability to conceive.

Painfully, uninhibited love, free of expectations and games seizes when we grow up and in our adult years we retort to childish ways when it comes to love and war. We all have our stories of the one love that could never survive in the realms of adult reality.

The meeting was nothing unusual but your effect was. Overwhelming and intoxicating your stare consumed me. It would have been poetic had I contained my composure but teenage hormones do not allow for such discreet reactions. You spoke and my heart choked. A burning fire raged inside me. You said your name was Tom, I asked about your accent, we laughed and the start of the love story began.

The bus was our time together. Your arms held me time as the rain slipped like honey down the windows. It started to fog inside and we wrote our love for each other on the screen. We thought it would last forever, but ‘TOM ♥ ELLA 4EVA’ was already starting to fade as the school grounds came into view.

We had about five minutes of uninterrupted bliss before the stares begun. My hand entwined in his and his smile wrapped me in safety. We were kidding ourselves if we thought this could last. But living in this blissful ignorance was all I could handle right now. Before we headed round the corner, before everything would change, I searched his eyes for hope, for hope we could make it. They were blank.

Our hands unhinged like strangers and he was gone. I watched him swagger to his side as I slowly walked to my area with shame. People suspected but no one said anything. Their stares said it all, their disgust, their loathing but they smiled at me and asked about my daddy and I told them about his where about’s and enquired about their daddy. We both hid our utter repulsion under sharp tongues and unfocused eyes.