Quotes by Caitlin Moran

But as the years went on, I realised that what I really want to be, all told, is a human. Just a productive, honest, courteously treated human.

But, of course, you might be asking yourself, Am I a feminist? I might not be. I dont know! I still dont know what it is! Im too knackered and confused to work it out. That curtain pole really still isnt up! I dont have time to work out if I am a womens libber! There seems to be a lot to it. WHAT DOES IT MEAN?I understand. So here is the quick way of working out if youre a feminist. Put your hand in your pants.a) Do you have a vagina? andb) Do you want to be in charge of it?If you said yes to both, then congratulations! Youre a feminist.

Its difficult to see the glass ceiling because its made of glass. Virtually invisible. What we need is for more birds to fly above it and shit all over it, so we can see it properly.

Heaven. The biggest waste of our time we ever invented, outside jigsaws.

But nearly every woman I know has a roughly similar story - in fact, dozens of them: stories about being obsessed with a celebrity, work colleague or someone they vaguely knew for years; living in a parallel world in their head; conjuring up endless plots and scenarios for this thing that never actually happened.

You stop talking about things when you’ve worked them out. You’re no longer an observer but a participant. You’re too busy for this bullshit.

But I am, personally, not a gambler. I wouldn’t spend £1 on the lottery, let alone take a punt on a pregnancy. The stakes are far, far too high. I can’t agree with a society that would force me to bet on how much I could love under duress.

We need to reclaim the word feminism. We need the word feminism back real bad. When statistics come in saying that only 29% of American women would describe themselves as feminist - and only 42% of British women - I used to think, What do you think feminism IS, ladies? What part of liberation for women is not for you? Is it freedom to vote? The right not to be owned by the man you marry? The campaign for equal pay? Vogue by Madonna? Jeans? Did all that good shit GET ON YOUR NERVES? Or were you just DRUNK AT THE TIME OF THE SURVEY?

I want a Zero Tolerance policy on All The Patriarchal Bullshit.

Ladies, we are at a massive disadvantage in the workplace. Your male peers are flirting with their male bosses constantly. The average workplace is like f*cking Bromancing the Stone. That’s basically what male bonding is. Flirting. They’re flirting with each other playing golf, they’re flirting with each other going to the football, they’re flirting with each other chatting at the urinals – and, sadly, flirting with each other in after-hours visits to strip clubs and pubs. They are bonding with each other over their biological similarities. If the only way you can bond with them is over your biological differences, you go for it. Feel pressurised to actually f*ck them if you do? Then don’t flirt. Find it an easy way to just crack on? Then crack on – and don’t blame other women for doing it.

Theres one big difference between the poor and the rich, Kite says, taking a drag from his cigarette. We are in a pub, at lunch-time. John Kite is always, unless stated otherwise, smoking a fag, in a pub, at lunch-time.The rich arent evil, as so many of my brothers would tell you. Ive known rich people -- I have played on their yachts -- and they are not unkind, or malign, and they do not hate the poor, as many would tell you. And they are not stupid -- or at least, not any more than the poor are. Much as I find amusing the idea of a ruling class of honking toffs, unable to put their socks on without Nanny helping them, it is not true. They build banks, and broker deals, and formulate policy, all with perfect competency.No -- the big difference between the rich and the poor is that the rich are blithe. They believe nothing can ever really be so bad, They are born with the lovely, velvety coating of blitheness -- like lanugo, on a baby -- and it is never rubbed off by a bill that cant be paid; a child that cant be educated; a home that must be left for a hostel, when the rent becomes too much.Their lives are the same for generations. There is no social upheaval that will really affect them. If youre comfortably middle-class, whats the worst a government policy could do? Ever? Tax you at 90 per cent and leave your bins, unemptied, on the pavement. But you and everyone you know will continue to drink wine -- but maybe cheaper -- go on holiday -- but somewhere nearer -- and pay off your mortgage -- although maybe later. Consider, now, then, the poor. Whats the worst a government policy can do to them? It can cancel their operation, with no recourse to private care. It can run down their school -- with no escape route to a prep. It can have you out of your house and into a B&B by the end of the year. When the middle-classes get passionate about politics, theyre arguing about their treats -- their tax breaks and their investments. When the poor get passionate about politics, theyre fighting for their lives.Politics will always mean more to the poor. Always. Thats why we strike and march, and despair when our young say they wont vote. Thats why the poor are seen as more vital, and animalistic. No classical music for us -- no walking around National Trust properties, or buying reclaimed flooring. We dont have nostalgia. We dont do yesterday. We cant bear it. We dont want to be reminded of our past, because it was awful; dying in mines, and slums, without literacy, or the vote. Without dignity. It was all so desperate, then. Thats why the present and the future is for the poor -- thats the place in time for us: surviving now, hoping for better, later. We live now -- for our instant, hot, fast treats, to prep us up: sugar, a cigarette, a new fast song on the radio.You must never, never forget, when you talk to someone poor, that it takes ten times the effort to get anywhere from a bad postcode, Its a miracle when someone from a bad postcode gets anywhere, son. A miracle they do anything at all.

When a woman says, ‘I have nothing to wear!’, what she really means is, ‘There’s nothing here for who I’m supposed to be today.

These days, however, I am much calmer - since I realised that it’s technically impossible for a woman to argue against feminism. Without feminism, you wouldn’t be allowed to have a debate on women’s place in society. You’d be too busy giving birth on the kitchen floor - biting down on a wooden spoon, so as not to disturb the men’s card game - before going back to quick-liming the dunny. This is why those female columnists in the Daily Mail - giving daily wail against feminism - amuse me. They paid you £1,600 for that, dear, I think. And I bet it’s going in your bank account, and not your husband’s. The more women argue loudly, against feminism, the more they both prove it exists and that they enjoy its hard-won privileges.

When the subject turns to abortion, cosmetic intervention, birth, motherhood, sex, love, work, misogyny, fear, or just how you feel in your own skin, women still won’t often tell the truth to each other unless they are very, very drunk. Perhaps the endlessly reported rise in female binge-drinking is simply modern women’s attempt to communicate with each other. Or maybe it is because Sancerre is so very delicious. To be honest, I’ll take bets on either.

And the question is always When are you going to have kids? Rather than Do you want to have kids?

Two women at the same event wearing the same outfit is a disaster. But two women at the same event singing the same song is a party. And two women at the same event talking about Doris from Fame is a friendship for life. Fill yourself with words, choruses, and heroes, like youre supposed to fill your wardrobe with shoes, brooches, and belts.

Becoming a woman felt a bit like becoming famous. For, from being benevolently generally ignored – the base-line existence of most children – a teenage girl is suddenly fascinating to others, and gets bombarded with questions: What size are you? Have you done it yet? Will you have sex with me? Have you got ID? Do you want to try a puff of this? Are you seeing anyone? Have you got protection? What’s your signature style? Can you walk in heels? Who are your heroes? Are you getting a Brazilian? What porn do you like? Do you want to get married? When are you going to have kids? Are you a feminist? Were you just flirting with that man? What do you want to do? WHO ARE YOU?All ridiculous questions to ask of a 13-year-old simply because she now needs a bra. They might as well have been asking my dog. I had absolutely no idea.

... motherhood is a game you must enter with as much energy, willingness, and happiness as possible.

It makes you love vividly, work intensely, and realize that, in the scheme of things, you really dont have time to sit on the sofa in your undies watching Homes Under the Hammer.

The aphorism If you want something done, ask a busy woman is in direct acknowledgment of the efficiency boot camp parenthood puts you through.