To present older mothers as a social problem is savagely annoying. Quite simply, there is no best age to be pregnant

The number of children born to women over 40 in England and Wales hit a record 27,000 last year, and has trebled in the last 20 years – a trend that has alarmed medical experts. Philip Steer, a professor of obstetrics, said: "There are two big problems with [postponing children]. First, you are less and less likely to get pregnant. Second, the physical risks of pregnancy, such as pre-eclampsia, diabetes, kidney problems and tiredness, go up from the age of 30." Nobody would argue with any of that; but nor does a simple deduction follow that women over 40 should avoid getting pregnant.

Martina Navratilova's breast cancer revelation is the latest in a long line of very public battles. She tells Julie Bindel why she is speaking out

Thirty seconds after meeting Martina Navratilova, she is suggesting I might be a stalker. As I arrive for the interview, shake that famous left hand and set up my voice recorder, I realise I have somehow lost its battery. To fill in precious time, I make what I think is polite small talk: "Martina, I can't tell you how jealous my friends are about me meeting you . . . I consider it worthwhile becoming a journalist just to meet you."

For some women, it's a breeze - for others, a nightmare. From HRT to hot flushes, Cherrill Hicks offers her guide. The Victorians thought it drove women mad, while the early Greeks believed it could be cured by applying leeches, but the menopause is a natural part of every woman's life cycle. Even so, each woman's experience will be different. Some may cruise through it with few problems; others have symptoms so dire as to make life intolerable. Some may feel liberated by stopping having periods; others may be sad that they can no longer get pregnant. The actor Julie Walters described the menopause as an uncomfortable rite of passage. But how you cope may well depend on what else is going on in your life, and how much stress you are under.

The era of perfectability has seen feminist calls for autonomy distorted into a row about rights to self-mutilate the body

This lady has a tattoo on her right buttock. That lady's breasts are slightly lopsided. The woman to the left has an ample tummy that jiggles when she bounces. As a quotidian consumer of contemporary culture, I consider myself inured to nudity. But, on a chilly evening earlier this week, before a stage full of naked, whooping strangers, I realised that I don't know women's bodies at all.