Animal: The Autobiography of a Female Body

by Sara Pascoe

Dream big, kids. May all your rejections quickly become laughable, because anyone who says no to you is an idiot. Xxxxx

I have decided it’s my mind that’s woman. It’s my narrator. It’s my relationship to myself, and oddly, nothing at all to do with my body.

The amount of parental investment required in raising a baby human is the reason we love so deeply.

I want to puke in old me’s face, I want to fight her and her docility in a car park.

Our evolution has shaped us to have wide-ranging urges and lusts but topped our brain with a pre-frontal cortex to control ourselves. If you’ve promised a lover you’ll be faithful, don’t you be quoting my book and blaming me while he cries in the bath. You be kind to that boy. ‘We’re all monkeys, mate,’ is not a good enough excuse for hurting people.