‘Biological clocks’ study ticks me off

 

Last night, at precisely ten minutes to midnight, I freaked out. Every now and then, I remember my age, and then immediately calculate how much longer I have before I need to decide whether married life, a family, and all that jazz, is exactly what I want.

And even if I do want all that, how to fit all of that (plus everything else I wish to enjoy doing) into the next decade before my body clock starts stuttering?

In short – at precisely ten minutes to midnight – I remembered my Ten-Year Time Bomb. Earlier this week I opened the paper to see that the UK birth rate seems to be the highest in the EU, a fact my posse of friends (not to mention certain public figures) are busily maintaining. I seem to get weekly phone calls declaring I’m to be another Faux Aunty.

In addition, yesterday I received news of a study investigating why intelligence and maternal urges seem correlated – generally the more of the former a woman has, the less of the second the study by Doctor Satoshi Kanazawa believes her to have.

Instead of imagining that perhaps greater intelligence may lead to better career prospects, and perhaps therefore less drive to destroy a career with a baby bombshell, Doctor Kanazawa has decided that intelligent women are actually just plain dumb.

By his standards, evolutionarily speaking, they are stupid because they do not accept that their biological purpose is to procreate. (As an aside, this is a man who also ‘found’ in a previous study that black women are objectively less attractive. You see what we’re dealing with here.) Nevertheless, he made this (hopefully) ‘intelligent’ woman question herself.

Let me be clear: I don’t believe for one second I’m stupid for entertaining the option of never having children. For one thing, we live in a world already overpopulated, in which any child of mine is going to have to deal with the knowledge that humans have probably ruined the planet.

However, I’m not some martyr deciding not to procreate because of the state of the world.

When it comes to womanly urges, martyrdom rarely comes into it. If I want a child to be born, then it damn well will be.

My honest reasons for not wanting children would be far more selfish, such as losing my freedom – you know, that freedom allowing me to go on holiday at a moment’s notice. (Never mind that I’ve only actually done that once.)

It’s the constant worrying, constant terror that must accompany parents’ every waking hour that something terrible has/is/might be about to befall their brood.

It’s the responsibility. It’s the screaming. The possibility of post-natal depression. Someone always needing you. It’s also the… well, I suppose if we want to be blunt, it’s the fear of such an all-consuming love.

But the research ‘findings’ do make me wonder if by not having children I risk straying from my natural impulses – and whether all of the above ‘selfish’ reasons, are actually distractions the 21st century has thrown at me, so that I forget my biology.

But this debate does not make me dumb – it makes me conscientious, something sorely lacking in some people’s decision – or lack thereof – to have babies. Either way, ten years to make sense of all this isn’t very long.

Of course, say this to a 20-year-old and you’re met with disbelief. They haven’t discovered yet that time speeds up once you hit 21, and consistently increases speed and altitude until suddenly, one day, you’re dead.

When I reflect on the last ten years that have blinked by, and consider it the same amount of time I realistically have before I must vote yay or nay on babies and family life, I feel utter terror.

I will have children, of course, I’m pretty sure of that. But women’s choices have never been so diverse, enticing, and equally terrifying. When you know from an early age that most things are on the table – as though stepping up to a richly-catered buffet – there’s an urge to try it all.

For women, however, this can feel a lot like weight-watching; a multitude of delicious food and only a small ration of calories to spend on its consumption. The same is true for our biological clocks: a career, the single life, fun, frivolous shopping, and travel and… and on, and on… and only a small amount of time to do it all before any possible maternal urges set in.

Page 3: thanks for the mammaries

The Irish edition of The Sun has cancelled its topless ‘Page 3’ to roaring complaints… from only one reader, who was truly livid at the loss of his daily dose of nipples.

I fear the level of written, tweeted, and verbal outrage in England may be higher if The Sun editor over here is pressured into ‘losing the boobs’. For my part, I’ve never found bare breasts offensive.

I usually find the ‘alluring’ tie on the girl’s otherwise naked torso more distasteful: don’t ask me why – perhaps it’s her terrible taste in ties. But more than this, I always found the News in Brief’s speech box most offensive (in which the topless girl apparently waxes lyrical on the week’s events).

Thankfully, this box was removed earlier this year, one can only presume either because they decided we could be fooled no longer into thinking the pouting mouth of Keeley, 22, would utter a valid opinion, or because they never meant for us to be fooled, and the concept had simply lost its comic value. The joke was always on the girl, with journalist and reader sharing a chuckle at a woman playing Peekaboo with nipples commenting on politics.

The About Me section often found in Lads’ Mags bothers me too: it’s always more annoying than the upward curve of her perfect bosom, because this is where the real misogyny happens.

You can almost hear the giggles the ‘hottie’ is supposed to offer, as she states her interests as, ‘watching football, eating pizza, and playing video games’. This is to make men believe that here, finally, is the ultimate girlfriend whose only purpose is to accompany them in their male pursuits, while scantily clad in a nurse’s uniform.

So, how do I feel about the possible cancellation of Page 3? I couldn’t care less. I understand the gripes: objectification of women (who have volunteered to do it), the unrealistic image men will expect from women (and young women expect for themselves), and the worry that kids flicking through their parents’ paper understand too early what some people enjoy, and how some women pander to it.

However, society’s views of women won’t be altered by the deletion of topless girls. After all, the type of people who complain about its omission are not the kind of people who probably evolve easily. But sex sells – especially the ‘fairer’ sex. Especially topless. Especially the fairer sex, topless, wearing a terrible tie.

If a guy enjoys buying a paper to ogle breasts, let him. Frankly, the natural boobs in that paper are as close to reality as the whole publication gets.