A book for women and about women. Cheerful, honest, frank. Unobtrusively teaches a woman to understand, accept and love herself. The author includes readers' own experience and knowledge, and also tells the stories of her friends, acquaintances and relatives, diluting the story with humor and practical advice for increasing female attractiveness and sexuality. The book provides answers to many questions that are not customary to ask in polite society, and reveals the secrets of happiness, financial solvency, achieving internal harmony and peace of mind.A woman is a person, not a rib.A woman is a person, not a unicorn.A woman is a person, not the weaker sex.
Оглавление
Маргарита Резник. Women are not unicorns
“I’m ugly, no one likes me”
"Masturbation is a sin"
“The coolest guy is already taken”
"Defloration"
"Lesbian tendencies."
“What if I’m on a vow of celibacy (the existence of which, of course, only God knows)”
"Painful breakup."
"Treason."
“10 guys in a year and no one worth it.”
“Igor, Alexander, Sofia.”
"Financial insolvency."
“HPV. Ureaplasmosis."
Menarche and “it would be better if I went to the army”
“First depilation, epilation. Why can't a woman be a yeti?
"Breast fibroadenoma."
"The man is twelve years older"
"First fart."
"Goodbye, friends"
"Man with child."
"Farewell University"
"Poverty and luxury."
"Flirting."
"Marriage."
"Divorce."
"Orgasm and frigidity, the search for marital sexuality"
"Miscarriage. Do I even want children?”
“Existential crisis – I haven’t achieved anything in my life.”
Отрывок из книги
In those days, when I still believed that the thunderstorm was moving away from the ritual “Holy, Holy,” I was worried about the question of why cute boys loved other girls, but did not notice me.
One day my mother and I were sitting in the room on a summer evening, shaking with fear. A thunderstorm was raging outside the window, the light and, in principle, the electricity in the house was turned off, the mirrors were curtained, the only refuge – the sofa sheltered two frightened women, forty-year-old and five-year-old me. We moved our palm near our foreheads and drove away the thunderstorm with the words “Holy, holy.” Now my husband and I are holding our stomachs when I tell this story, but before everything was very serious.
.....
Remember the movie “What Else Men Talk About?” One of the heroines, imagining betrayal of her husband, says: “Legs. Just imagine. Ugh".
That's what we're talking about, until you love a person completely, with all your soul, until you get used to his farts and farts, all these little things will be in the foreground, they will distract even from romantic feelings in general.
