Why wrinkes are a lot like pubes

Now that I am in my late twenties there is no doubt that my body is changing. Notably my liver is showing its age with the two day hangovers that now seem to be the norm. Also showing the years is my face. The other night as I was brushing my teeth I was contouring my face slightly to make sure I reached my back molers and BAM all of a sudden i looked like Donatella Versace’s Grandmother. How the fuck did that happen? Where did these wrinkles come from?

Then i realized it was exactly the same as when I got pubes. I didn’t remember them turning up individually but all of a sudden I woke up as a 13 year old girl with 70’s porn muff. And it seems like it’s the same process with wrinkles. Now I have started to go sleep with my face so oiled and moisturized I have trouble not sliding off my pillow.

The return of the rear???

I brought a pair of highwaisted Levi shorts recently and when a put them on I realized they gave me Eighties bottom. To be honest I was shocked to see my bum on display as really our rears have had a big break from the spotlight. Even though they have been sucked into skinny jeans they have remained hidden under long tops and dresses. Men’s bottoms have also been enjoying a long hiatus as they have been left swimming in an ocean of denim for what seems like forever.

Would any woman appreciate a return of bum enhancing jeans? I think most of my friends are quite glad that their bum is behind them so they can pretend it doesn’t exist like a Chinese symbol tattoo you have on your back. I think this bad relationship most of us have with our bum would lead me to think that we would go for a minimizing rather than enhancing option.

Would a rear renaissance for men’s jeans be a good thing? I personally don’t get the whole ‘check out the arse on that’ thing. Men’s bottoms don’t even register for me. I would be severely traumatized if a man that I liked wore anything that highlighted his hiney.

Or even worse is when you see the seam of the jean going up the bum a little or if you see a man clench their buttocks! They usually do it when they’re having an awkward conversation with someone in the office. The poor seam becoming the reluctant slice of cheese in a buttock sandwich.

As our bodies start to lose their firmness it seems we also start to lose our firm restrictions on what makes a suitable mate. Were as in the past I may have tossed aside a perfectly good partner because they admitted to liking a couple of Nickelback songs, or having shoes that looked like they had orthopedic properties or sunglasses that looked like they had been designed by NASA. Now I wonder do these things really matter? Does the choice of lesuire trainer really make the man?

And if I am being more open minded does that mean I am being more mature and less fickle or am I getting worried that my next of kin might end up being a tabby called Mr Socks?

As the average age to get married is now 31 does that mean that we will be seeing less shallow matches happening based less on looks and more on true love? Or is it just that we realize that there is no such thing as a perfect partner and someone that treats you right but wears NASA sunglasses is better than some that wears Ray Bans and treats you like a turd?

I am sorry you're breaking up...

I think technology has the changed the whole break up process forever. Drunken dialing being a fine example. 20 years ago you would have to remember their number plus have the co-ordination to punch the buttons. And if you did call and they weren't home, unless you were sad enough to leave a message, you would get away scott-free but now with caller ID you're screwed.

You can't even wake up the next day and rely on your own memory loss to protect you from the shame, because your call log will show you the exact minute past sad-o'clock that you called or half-past heartbreak when you sent a text message asking what felt very like a very nonchalant question at the time but in the cold light of day just reeks of a bottle-of-the-house-red-desperation.

And that's just mobiles, never mind the inter-bloody-web. Thanks to crackbook seeing a pick of your exes new chick is only a click away. Back in the old days you would have to camp out in a bush for ages in the cold, now we can stalk from the comfort of our orthopedic office chairs. And we know the minute they start seeing someone new because of the little smug looking heart symbol that flashes up when they go 'in a relationship'

That's just post break up technology, don't get me started on breaking up with a text message...its not u its me :)

If you liked it then you should of given me a ring, innit?!

On the weekend i kissed a boy and to be honest it wasn't that great. He had a torpedo like tongue that was using my tonsils as target practice but i still ended up giving him my number. I didn't really want to give it to him but when i asked my mind to come up with a default number it panicked and hide behind a thin curtain of Mojitos. So i yelled my digits out and he eagerly punched them into his phone.
Now 3 days later and guess what? No word. I think some brave cat managed to get his torpedo like tongue in its clutches.
Lads, here's a heads up. You don't need to take our numbers if you don't want too. Sometimes a snog is, just a snog. A fleeting embrace that's never destined to go beyond a sweaty dancefloor. But as soon as you take a girls number you have taken the relationship past the doors of the overpriced nightclub. Now even though the girl doesn't really like you she will be destined for the next 3 days to be on edge waiting for you to text. Picking her phone up and pushing the keys to make sure the screen still lights up. Getting her phone out as soon as she emerges from the underground. Texting her self to make sure her phone is still working (so i hear).
Yes, just rip the plaster of rejection off right then and there. We will be fine as we have a thick alcoholic amour on that will reassure us that we still look like a white Beyonce. We will fall into the waiting arms of comforting girlfriends then bust out a heart felt rendition of Single Ladies. Now put your hands up, oh, oh, oh. oh, oh...