I caught up with a beauty-writer friend the other day. She looked glowier and sleeker than ever. Her secret? Not some new wonder cream. It’s bikram yoga. I’ve always wanted to be a bikram-ite. Everyone’s so bendy and lissome (don’t you love that word?) in their itsy-bitsy bikinis (yes, that’s what many girls wear there - seriously, it’s practically nude-yoga). One common criticism of bikram is that its body-beautiful benefits can attract people for the wrong reason - those into the skin-deep results rather than the spiritual side of most yoga practice. My friend reports that there are many male models in very V-revealing shorts at her studio, intently studying their physiques in the mirror throughout the entire class. I have no major issues with the vanity aspect (or, for that matter, the male-model eye-candy aspect). Surely there’s a bit of vanity at play in any exercise anyway? Whatever gets you going, I say. But I just can’t get into bikram. As much as my inner bikini babe wants me to. I’ve tried. One, I hate all the sweat (you perspire more in one bikram session than you normally would in a whole  summer). Two, I end up looking like a tomato in lycra. My dermatologist has actually banned me from bikram, because I have rosacea, which is exacerbated by heat. The cheeks also go wild after a round or two of rosé. My self-imposed exile from rosé is slightly less successful though…

I’d like to introduce you to Daisy, my new Maltese Shih Tzu puppy. She’s the cutest little bundle of fluff. But she’s not just a pretty face - she’ll be resident doggie-beauty reporter. She’s currently testing two canine perfumes (one a pretty Rose, one a boho Vanilla Patchouli) and is thrilled with her new French dry shampoo, which makes her extra-fuzzy, not to mention a little less smelly. Talking of hair, she has the most perfect shade of caramel and honey highlights, so perfect in fact, I just might have to take her along to my next salon session so that my colourist can do an exact match. Oh dear, I think I’m becoming a crazy dog woman.

Did you know ‘muffin top’ was voted word of 2006 in Australia? I’d love to meet the person who came up with the term. It’s pure genius. Once upon a time, Muffin Top was simply the name of a Seinfeld episode and only ever to be taken literally. Then all of a sudden, it was the only way to describe what was going on above increasingly plummeting waistbands.

I’d love to make up a beauty term myself. Like Panda Eyes or Bedhead or Toe Cleavage or Tanorexia. My latest favorite beauty word is Pob. As in, the Posh Spice Bob. Not that I like the actual hair. Which apparently is one of the most in-demand cuts over in England right now. Um, how? Every time I look at Posh, I’m exhausted. Exhausted in empathy - from all that effort she makes to look the way she does. The blow-dry every day. The highlights every few weeks. The nails every few days. The flawlessly applied makeup. She’s groomed to within an inch of her life and it’s terrifying as well as tiring to look at.

Anyway, back on track … The ultimate beauty term, in my opinion, is adult acne. It’s so simple and straight-forward. And, like any good new catch-cry, it created a whole new phenomenon and paranoia the instant the words were printed and spread (in other words, a marketer’s dream - not to mention that of any beauty writer looking for a new angle and coverline). I once met the professor who coined the term (in conjunction with a beauty editor who was interviewing him about pimples at the time). I was very star-struck. Some people worship Brad Pitt. Me: white-coated skin doctors who specialise in spots. There’s got to be a word for that.

If your skin breaks out in bumps after a bikini wax, try treating ingrowns and other unsightly spots in the same way as you would those on your face: a preventative daily dose of skin-clearing salicylic acid.

Great buy: Ultraceuticals Ultra Clear Oily & Acne-Prone Skin Gel ($53 from Adore Beauty).