Several months ago when deciding to attack any health issues head-on, rather than go, once again, to the doctor for another dose of antibiotics to cure my 145,276 millionth urinary tract infection, I went to Border's and bought the most recent copy of "Our Bodies, Ourselves," that age-old bible of women's health. Much like "The Joy of Sex," the book, even in its most recent edition, takes on a solid hippie/I-am-woman-hear-me-roar approach to health matters. All I wanted to do was look up herbal remedies, but I was sidetracked along the way by a picture of a large-nosed woman next to the headline "Why I love my nose" (an essay on the evils of plastic surgery). The very first of such educational essays, right when you open up the book, is on waxing our - uh - privates, and how in doing so women are trying to recreate themselves in the image of prepubescent girls, which men love. "Why do this to ourselves?" the book argues. "I don't know, because it's sexy?" my non-educated self wonders back. I happily showed J a drawing of a naked women complete with a diagram of her reproductive system. Her pubic hairs were drawn in full - a veritable forest of self-worth and independence. The book is full of such subtle (read: completely in your face) suggestions, and I love the authors for their completely non-hidden agenda. My favorite, however, is the section on vitamins, specifically pre-natal vitamins, and conceiving. Half the page is taken up with a large picture of two happy lesbians with their African-American child, like, "By the way, if you want to have a baby this way, we think it's totally awesome!"