Although I’m very pleased with my vagina, I do wish someone had told me, when I was young, just how much of my life I’d spend worrying about all the stuff that happened to drip out of it. Not that I resent the dripping exactly, it’s just I never anticipated there’d be so much of it. And that thanks to irregular periods and other vaginal surprises, it’s entirely unpredictable.

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I shave my legs every couple of weeks. My armpits more frequently – maybe once or twice each week. I pluck my eyebrows when I spot a stray hair, and get them threaded when I can brave the salon. Then occasionally I cover my neck, chest and stomach in hair removal cream, lie on the bathroom floor like a melting snowman, and wait for the hair to burn off. I have PCOS, and Sisyphus has nothing on me.

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