Does your vulva need a facelift? asks the Mash sex columnist

GOING to Turkey? Boobs, bum or labiaplasty? With vaginal anxiety apparently at an all-time high, women are turning to cosmetic surgery for the smile few will ever see. 

But is it worth taking a scalpel to solve a problem that is probably non-existent and certainly not important? Consider these before investing 15 grand in your foof:

Is it just a trend? 

If it’s important to be at the forefront of vulva couture, then open the catalogue and circle your dream pussy in Sharpie today. But fashion moves on fast and nobody wants the pussy equivalent of boot-cut jeans down there, every lover absently humming Craig David as they go down.

Are you ashamed?

Are you so embarrassed by your labia you can barely bring yourself to look down in the shower? Are dates plagued by thoughts that he can tell you’ve got asymmetric flaps by your very bearing? Recurring nightmare where your Naked Attraction appearance is likened to Cthulhu? It’s definitely not delusional. Get booked in.

Do you compare yourself to porn?

Real women don’t have the pert, uniform pussies of porn stars. Comparing their pudenda to your own can only end in tears. If you can’t even look into the hand mirror you’re squatting above, you have two choices: stop doing that or surgery. The first is easier.

Can you go a month without masturbating?

A key consideration when deciding whether your beef curtains need a trim. No matter how skilled the surgeon who performs the procedure you’ll be sore downstairs, with no wandering hands, vibrators or real live penises for at least four weeks. And the same wait before sharing before-and-after shots online.

Are you in a long-term relationship?

Then why are you bothering with this? If you’ve got a boyfriend locked down anyway, why put yourself through the butchery? Make peace with the irregularities of your punani and move on.

A fanny’s a fanny

Droopy, crooked, thick, thin, still or sparkling, let’s be honest, any half-decent self-hating man will be grateful to ram his dick into whatever you’ve got going. So spare yourself the knife. He’s as likely to notice it as a new hairstyle anyway.

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Your astrological week ahead for July 6th, with Psychic Bob

Aries, March 21st–April 19th

You did your own exit poll on Thursday. Turns out most people’s first choice would be to leave their house through the front door.

Taurus, April 20th–May 20th

Sure the kids have their TikTok, but have they ever known the true thrill of doing a scratch-and-sniff sticker?

Gemini, May 21st–June 21st

The lady at Debenhams said you’re a Light Summer, so you suit lilacs, reds and wasps.

Cancer, June 22nd–July 22nd

Shall we all give ourselves a treat and not even think about who the new Tory leader’s going to be before we f**king have to?

Leo, July 23rd–August 22nd

I like my women like I like my pancakes. Stacked, hot and with a light dusting of icing sugar. Nutella on the side.

Virgo, August 23rd–September 22nd

“Baby, they call me ‘High-Waisted Trousers’ because I’m high, I’m wasted and I’m not wearing any.”

Libra, September 23rd–October 22nd

If you feel scared about the new government, don’t be. Psychic Bob is always here for you. And he’s watching you now. Get your hand out of there.

Scorpio, October 23rd–November 22nd

Cogito ergo sum? Cogito ergo your mum.

Sagittarius, November 22nd–December 21st

They call him The Palindrome because he’s both overly forward and pretty backward.

Capricorn, December 22nd–January 19th

Why are the Conservatives complaining about going into opposition? Surely having no responsibilities and slagging off your rivals all day is the dream?

Aquarius, January 20th–February 18th

“Ah, your surname is Spunkmeyer. So I presume your ancestors were, in some way, Mayors of Spunk?”

Pisces, February 19th–March 20th

Ramp up the sexiness in your household by being constantly blindfolded. Don’t just save it for the bedroom.