There are 4 more days left
in 2005, and you know what that means. Oh yeah, it’s New Year’s resolution
time! Of course, the number one resolution on most people’s list is going to be
“lose (insert #) pounds”. Every year, I want to lose 10 pounds. For me, it’s
always been 10 pounds because for whatever reason, those last 10 pounds just
won’t leave my body. The frustrating thing is that those last 10 pounds hang
out only around my gut. I’m a total Apple. All the women on both sides of my
parents families are apples. I come from a line of Filipino apples.
Remember those commercials for Cortislim. Cortislim was developed by a doctor, and they talked about how you can lose all that apple fat caused by high levels of cortisol produced in the body because of stress. I saw this commercial all over the place and had two friends who tried it and lost weight, so I decided to try it. The stuff was really expensive at almost $50/bottle. It gets cheaper if you buy multiple bottles, but I always tend to the conservative side when it comes to “drugs” so I thought I’d try one bottle, and see what happened. I lost about 3 pounds using that first bottle, so I bought the package of 3 the second time around with great hope and exhilaration that this time, my gut would finally shrink.
After 4 bottles of Cortislim, I lost 5 pounds, and I think most of that was due to the fact that I upped my exercise routines from 4x a week to 5x a week. Every week, I was waiting for the apple fat to melt away from my waist so that I could jump back into my skinny jeans. But alas, to no avail, I did not. It was damn frustrating. On those frustrating days, I dream again about just getting liposuction, and sucking the fat away. It seems like such a faster solution. But, so far, I stick to trying to do things naturally. I’m even trying to see if I can just come to peace with that 10 pound roll around my mid-section….Naaawwww!
If this were the Renaissance, they would be
telling me to gain weight so that I could be hot. The hotties back then were
women who had large hips and heaving bosoms. They had bellies, and thick arms.
Back then; having meat on your bones was a sign of wealth and status. Skinny
meant you were an unfortunate peasant. Mona Lisa was smiling because she knew
that she could eat whatever the hell she wanted and still be considered a
goddess. Behind that smile, she’s saying, “That’s right bitches. I eat like a
horse and I’m still the most famous woman in art.”
Not only did these women get to eat a lot, they also wore these huge long flowing gowns that would make even Roseanne Barr look svelte. You could probably hide a turkey or two under those huge skirts. I probably would have stashed a goodie bag filled with sweet munchies down my skirt, so there’d be a double treat for my man. Ooopsie! Did I say that out loud?
For those of you who do not watch Nip/Tuck, there was a deviant character called "The Carver" who was going around town slashing up beautiful people's faces. At every scene of the crime he would say to his victims, "Beauty is a curse on the world." He started with the slashing and then moved onto adding rape and murder to his slash fests. His victims were primarily people who are obsessed with their looks like actors, models, plastic surgeons, and beautiful detectives trying to catch him. All season we sat on the fringes of our seats trying to figure out who the Carver was.
The TV studio leaked that the criminal was a major character. It turns out that the most obvious pick turned out to be The Carver. You always figure that the obvious choice isn't the one because we're supposed to be thrown off. In Nip/Tuck's case, the suspected Dr. Costas turned out to be the deviant criminal, BUT they did add in some freaky twists and turns to the story that made it quite entertaining.
Anyway, in his concluding speech about why he goes about slashing beautiful people, he states that his purpose in life is to free people from the bondage of beauty. It's all ironic because he himself is a skilled plastic surgeon working in beauty obsessed Miami. Despite the fact that this guy is a vicious, sneaky, villain, he does have some kernels of truth in his message. We as a society are held bondage to our looks. It's true. Why else would we spend billions of dollars in cosmetics, weight loss programs, plastic surgery, fashion, and expensive things to one up the Joneses.
Everyone, male or female here in the US has something they hate about their body, and has something physical that they fixate upon. Why, so we can look good to others. I can't think of one human being I have ever met who doesn't care about their looks or is completely happy with the way they look. I'm sure there are people out there who do, and one day I'd like to meet them.
Personally, this is how beauty has been a curse in my world. In the workplace, whenever I was thin, I would be attacked and ostracized by jealous female co-workers, or constantly hit on by male co-workers. I'm at work to work, and don't care too much about this petty stuff, but others do, and they try real hard to get at you. It's one of things about Corpse-rate America I despise.
At tradeshows and events, every guy is looking at you like he wants to get in your pants, or he is actually trying literally to get into your pants. When I would gain weight, and be on the chubbier side, the guys would stop trying to sleep with me, and the women would back off. Why, because I am no longer a threat, and they can be prettier than me once again. It's rather fucked up, but all of you know what I am talking about because you've either experienced yourself firsthand or you have inflicted your jealousy on others. But nonetheless, you're safer when you're fatter, but miserable because you're fatter. I want my skinny jeans back. So, back and forth just like the NordicTrac we go.
Beauty is power, but power in itself is neither a curse or a gift.
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When I wake up and start having one of those self body loathing days, the first thing I do is go to the bathroom, take off my shirt and grab the rolls of fat around my gut. I grab it like it's pizza dough, and I start squeezing and kneading. For added infliction of disgust, I'll grab on and then giggle the fat up and down like it's shake n' bake. And you know what, I know I'm not the only one who does this little fat shaking exercise. You've done it too. Oh yes you have. It's okay, that's why we have blogs so that we can freely express the darker sides of our battle back to skinny jeans. When it's out in the open, the dark stuff almost seems comical. Actually, that's what stand up comics do. They talk about their dark corners, and we laugh. Why, because it makes us see the lighter side, so we can take ourselves less seriously.
In a few days it will be Christmas day. I love the holiday season because it's filled with food, family, good cheer, and cold weather that allows me to wear flannel jammies and cuddle in a huge down comforter. I have the worst singing voice in the world, but I do love singing Christmas carols. Today, I had to do the last of my Christmas shopping, and to get in the mood, I sang carols while driving. It really got me in a cheery mood. I thought I was going to have to battle the crowds since I got a late start, but luckily for me, it was hardly crowded at all.
Today, I'm making Christmas cookies. I got Martha Stewart's special holiday cookie magazine, and I'm making the Cocoa Shortbread and Surprise cookies. The surprise cookie is a chocolate cookie with marshmellow filling and chocolate frosting top. Since I'm into the organic thing, I got all the ingredients at Whole Foods and Trader Joes. My mouth is watering just thinking of those cookies. I'll let you know how the cookies turn out. Today's definitely a sweatpants day.
There’s a part of EVERY woman that wants to be a model. There’s no need to even explain why. When I was in high school I wanted to look like the supermodel Paulina Porizkova. I used to collect all magazines that had her picture in it, and then cut out the full-page pictures where she was wearing a sexy outfit, and put them up on my bedroom wall. Paulina was my idea of what a “perfect” woman looked like. To make sure that my parents didn’t think I was some raging lesbian, I put up pictures of other super models, and boy toy celebs like Matt Dillon, Ralph Macchio, and Tom Cruise. I lived in a Catholic, Asian “You’re the first born” household. Life was hard enough, and had I been gay, well that would have just made things a bit more interesting.
I remember seeing a Phil Donahue show (loooong time ago) where there was a panel of supermodel guests including Cindy Crawford. Phil asked Cindy if she had ever been intimidated by anyone, and she said that only one person (up to that point) had ever blown her away, and that was Paulina Porizcova. Cindy described meeting Paulina as an experience where she could not stop looking at this woman because she couldn’t believe how striking her beauty was. Now for Cindy Crawford to say that is something huge.
I loved to look at Paulina because I wanted to look like her. I wanted to have her life. She got to travel to all these glamorous places, hang out with celebrities, make movies, wear cool clothes, and generally live fabulously. If I could look like her, or even just have half her looks, my life would be so much better. Paulina was one of the things that helped motivate me to lose weight during my first venture back into the skinny jeans (see post November 20,2005 "Three times a skinny lady, Part Deux") I lost 18 pounds the summer before my Junior year, and Paulina helped me do that.
Logically, I knew that I could never actually look like the real Paulina because well she’s white, and I’m Asian. Secondly, she’s 5’10” and I was 5’5” at the time. Lucky for me, I grew 2 more inches in college, but still not tall enough to be a model. The agencies demanded a minimum height of 5’9”. And thirdly, Paulina has blue eyes, and I tried colored contacts, and I just looked like some alien Loch Ness monster. Scary! I got skinny, and didn’t look like Paulina or a supermodel, but I did get pretty, pretty enough in fact to be nominated for homecoming princess. That was a dream come true!
I admit it. I'll scream it out loud. "I am a celebrity gossip junkie." You can name any celebrity and I can give you some of the latest dish on them. I know it’s like eating junk food that has absolutely no nutritional food value, but I partake anyway because it fills some craving. The fascinating thing about the lives of the rich and famous is that these people are actually living the life that most of us dream of. We don’t get to own private jets or walk down the red carpet, but we can live vicariously through them. Besides, it’s also part of being immersed in the dream of being back in the skinny jeans.
Once you get back into the skinny jeans, life will be glamorous, exciting, and magical like the movies, or at least a primetime TV show. Come on admit it out loud, or at least out loud in the privacy of your bathroom mirror. You have thought that if you got into your skinny jeans, your life would take on some magical tone to it, perhaps that where being on TV doesn’t seem like a shot from left field. This is why reality TV shows have become so popular. If you can get into your skinny jeans, you actually could have a shot at being an Apprentice, Survivor, or Bachlorette. Gorgeous men like George Clooney, okay maybe that’s a bit high, perhaps men like George Eads CSI Nick Stokes from Las Vegas seem within reach. You can walk into any dress shop and the same things that Heidi, Giselle, and Tyra wear are also within your possession. How about going to the hotel bar of a swanky hotel you know celebrities hang out at? This time you would actually go and hob nob, or at the very least just stand in the room, and absorb the fact that you know you look like you belong there. Hmmm…I get tingles when I think about that feeling of acceptance.
Comments on MSNBC.com article “Untying the knot, celebrity style”
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We already know that many celebrities just live freaky lives. I mean some of the shit that they get into just is mind boggling to me. Case in point, celebrity prenuptial agreements. Unless you’ve been under a rock in New Guinea, you have heard that Nick and Jessica are getting divorced. Chestica filed the divorce papers last week. What a great Christmas gift Jess. Actually, it just might turn out to be a good Christmas for Nick because the two never had a prenup agreemnt before the got married, and according to Califonia law, Nick is entitled to half of the $30 million Jess made this year. He did not even come close to making the same amount.
Well, freaky as the celebs are, the seasoned celebs who have been to divorce court and have lost a fleet of cars and some mansions, put some interesting clauses in their prenups, such as payments or elimination of all money for cheating, additional money for every child produced, or even a clause for how many times a week they must have sex. One clause one famous celeb put in his prenup is related to keeping the wifey in her skinny jeans, because afterall, a famous studly actor cannot have a fat wife. The clause stated that said wifey could not weigh more that 120 pounds during their marriage, or elements of the prenup would be void.
Is that fucking unbelievably freakish or what. Said actor could become a big fat bloated pig, but wifey must always stay at 120 pounds or under or else she gets zilcho. What a way to drive your wife to eating disorders, and create a marriage that has no basis on real love. You are guaranteed to get divorced, so why get married…Oh yeah, I forgot, idealist me, it’s Hollywood, the land of distorted figments of the shallow mind.