Wednesday, January 31, 2007

so touched.

funny isn't it, how ya always get the little nudge you need when you're hesitating about getting back into the saddle.

this was posted on YouTube by an anonymous 19-year old regarding my size ate video clip:
I made a blog about this video and your website and a friend I'm not particularly close with messaged me. She told me how she has problems with bulimia and that this video is a step for her to something better. It opened up a dialogue that would never have happened. Thank you for opening eyes and minds, including mine.
and we're off!

i'm performing size ate again at the end of march.

i'm kinda happy, and i kinda wanna throw up. funny how those two feelings are so closely assimiliated, and how we continue to do things that we know are gonna make us feel this way.
that is, i am afraid, what they call BEING ALIVE.

Monday, January 29, 2007


i went to fort lauderdale this weekend. oh boy. sunlight. warmth. swimming pools. jacuzzis. just what this winter weary girl needed.

i flew down with a friend who has fared substantially better than i in the moolah department. he has a fabulous condo with a fabulous view, fabulous vintage furniture and a fabulous collection of Fiestaware. i told him that he was helping me get in touch with my inner gay man. after this past weekend, i anticipate that i will be better at three things:

1. decorating

2. dressing

3. dating

now, there's a book.


we flew out of JFK, and as i was pulling off my shoes and belt at the security line, i looked back at the couple behind me.

oh my...don't look, don't look.

it was mischa barton and her boyfriend. i don't own a TV, but i know who she is from the gossip rags and from her various fashion and beauty endorsement deals.

she is a lovely, waifish girl, but what struck me most is how very normal, and dare i say it, average she looked, and i mean that in a really good way. yes, she's a beaut, but no more so than any number of women i see prancing past me on a daily basis. we all know by now the Photoshopping all those ads go through, but it's really a wonderful gift to see one of the digitally-altered beauties up close and in person.

why goody gumdrops! she's a girl just like me!

yes, she had really really great yellow shoes with giant rhinestones on the toes, but the realization was...she doesn't even look like her photos, so how the hell can we? we can't. she can't. so, we just stop trying...slip on sparkly shoes, a great pair of shades, and tote your adorable rocker boyfriend along - the one who's brave enough to wear sunshine yellow socks.

Wednesday, January 24, 2007


today, my face began to melt.

oh, okay. not really. it just looked like it.

i went to the dentist to get a little work done on my teeth, and that dear sweet Dr. S who clearly wanted me to feel absolutely no pain shot enough novocaine into the left side of my mouth to numb a horse...a Clydesdale. true. i felt no pain. i also felt something like absolutely no sensation whatsoever for the next 6 hours.

i left the office feeling like i had an enormous elephantine growth on the side of my face. my tongue could feel my lip, but my lip could not feel my tongue. i tried to put on chapstick, but to no avail; it ended up on my nose. i tried to smile at a small child on the street, but my left cheek would not rise to meet the latitude of the right. i did not match. i started covering my face whenever i wanted to laugh or smile b/c what if i didn't look attractive?!?!

i was disturbed.

what if! what if it STAYED THIS WAY. what if? what if there were some disastrous mistake, and he really DID give me enough novocaine to numb a Clydesdale, and i would be stuck this way for the rest of my life? i am a smiley person, goddammit! what if i can't smile for the rest of my life?!? this lopsided grin is not my smile! it's like a slack rubberband with teeth! i will be ugly and now no one will ever love me, ever ever ever.

what if?!?

listen. i don't consider myself any great beauty. i don't think i have a particularly fabulous face. Ford Modeling would not go under if my face fell off tomorrow and shattered into a million pieces. i can find any number of flaws in my visage if given the moment. it's huge. i have a little bit of an overbite, a little bit of an underbite. this, i think, makes me look wan and noble from one side, and a wee bit Billy Bob Thornton Slingblade-ish from the other.


despite all of this, i'm actually pretty okay with my face. of all the body image issues i've ever had, i never took much issue with my face. change the butt, the boobs, the thighs, the fingers, the toes, but for some reason, The Face and i have always been on pretty decent terms. there are even parts of it that i have grown to love (dimples, nose).

so, of course my pissy pessimistic thinking goes, the ONE PART OF MY BODY I'M OKAY WITH is going to be stuck this way forever because THAT'S JUST THE WAY SHIT WORKS OUT FOR ME, DOESN'T IT?!?! wouldn't THAT be poetic friggin justice?!? all this bellyachin' about my body, and my face goes kaput while all those imperfect parts chug along just fine.

when i finally emerged from my selfish panic, i thought of all those people who actually have suffered a trauma that alters their appearance permanently, not just for an afternoon. what a struggle that must find yourself amidst the altered form in the mirror.

i think of my model-pretty mom who had to have her breast removed when she was 38-years old. as an 8-year old, you don't understand how it could possibly be such a big deal when you know that having that extra piece of flesh removed could save a mother's life, but as a grown woman, you do. in 24 years, those "extra piece(s) of flesh" have somehow become almost everything that is "woman" about you. bald and boobless, i suppose my mom had to find a way to redefine what it meant to be a "beautiful woman." she struggled with that, i know, but for her, i think her new definition involved lots of laughter, lipstick and a stash of Dove ice cream bars in the freezer.

of course, 'round about 7:30pm, i got pretty much all feeling back in my face. i could sip my cocktail without drooling. i could nibble a cookie without biting my lip. my left cheek rose to meet my right cheek in a happy little reunion called a smile.

oh good. there i am. right there in the mirror. phew.

oh, but not. that's not really me, is it? dear god, i hope not. i am no more my "decent" face than i am my "imperfect" body or my "blonde" hair. it fascinates me how very affected i was by this little experience, and i'm even a little ashamed at how very much i have come to identify me as my face, my smile, my hair, my appearance. and why?


it's up to us to take the metaphorical hand away from our face and laugh anyway...crooked mouth, crooked teeth, chunk of spinach in crooked teeth be damned.

not parkay.

one of the many many reasons i adore my friend b.

the sole item on his shopping list that is posted proudly on his fridge:


Monday, January 22, 2007

i want a cozy for my dental floss.

another review...this time, it was a lovely little 'zine called Scrappy: A Craft Zine for Scrappy People (dated Sunday, January 21).




among other things, it shows you how to make all types of "cozies"...toilet paper, 'zine, tampon, vibrator.

b/c i've never met a girl who wasn't better off with a vibrator cozy. they do get cold, ya know.

Sunday, January 21, 2007

oh, well...there is THAT.

"you must be the birthday girl."

"yes! yes, I am!"

how did he know? i must be glowing. there must be a certain celebratory air about me. i must be radiating a sense of self-awareness and self-confidence that only comes with maturity (and years of therapy).

i then walked into the bathroom, looked into the mirror, and saw a 32-year old grown woman staring back at me...

wearing a tiara.

Saturday, January 20, 2007

sweet birthday messages.

not quite 32 candles.

Jan 19, 2007 9:06 PM

Jan 19, 2007 7:36 PM
oh no! oh no! your number is not in my phone!! i don't know why. the evil birthday gnome maybe. dang! well happy 32nd red velvet lady. i love you more than cheese (that is a very, very big deal).

Jan 19, 2007 6:57 PM
Happy Birthday, my friend. Capricorns rock, it's just a matter of undeniable fact. Elvis, Jimmy Page, John Paul Jones, Charles Mingus, Martin Luther King, me, you. End of story. Have fun tonight!

Friday, January 19, 2007

the only kind of dusting i like

i woke up to a light dusting of snow.

delighted. i only wish i'd seen it fall.

happy birthday to me.

so far, 32 is lookin' pretty lovely.

Thursday, January 18, 2007

i am not a critic.

i "reviewed" El Perro del Mar, the new album from Swedish singer songwriter Sarah Assbring, for a feminist blog. it's a little weird writing a review b/c what the hell do i know, it's all subjective anyway, but here it is.

and it really is a great album by the way.

for samples of her songs, check out her myspace page.

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

red velvet me.

sometimes, a girl (me) needs a compelling reason to get off her lazy bum and bathe.


philosophy's red velvet cake 3-in-1 shampoo, shower gel & bubble bath.

this stuff smells so authentic i wanted to take a swig from the bottle. now just put me on a Waterford cake plate and call me scrumptious.

oh, and frost me.

Monday, January 15, 2007

may you have a dream.

happy martin luther king jr day.

some quotes.

he wants you with a good shape...and a brain tumor.

when you can't be with him,
be in his mind,
be a mindsticker.

not be be confused with a pot sticker or a mindfuck.

in comes company...

alright, he looks a little weird here, but he's very cute.

"my favorite quote is, the unexamined life is not worth living."

"and i always say, the unlived life is not worth examining."

on a total serendipitous fluke (free tickets) i saw the Broadway revival of the Stephen Sondheim musical Company last night. in recent years, i have lost all respect for musical theater, particularly anything i've seen on Broadway. just loads and loads of expensive government cheese.

not Company, thank god. it's an amazing show that manages to capture the complexity of love and marriage in modern times. a piece of theater whose book and lyrics are as beautiful as its music with actors whose acting is as lovely as their voices (and they all play instruments simultaneously!). it is sooo not poufy. i might even venture to say i left not a little bit changed.

always fascinating, isn't it, how the universe always sends you precisely what you need just when you need it?

and i now have a crush on the guy who plays Bobby, Raul Esparza. i'm pretty sure we locked eyes at some point during the show. must be love.

or perhaps i was in his line of sight and his eyes were tearing up from the brightness of the lights.

and i'm pretty sure he's gay.

ah well. hope, dear ladies, springs eternal.

Sunday, January 14, 2007


"you look like you've lost weight."

"i had to have a colonoscopy, so i couldn't eat for a day beforehand, and then i was terrified to eat for another five days because i was waiting for the results."

"well! you've never looked better."

Wednesday, January 10, 2007

do tell...

which hurts more?

popping a zit just at the edge of your lip...


just at the edge of your nostril?

both make my eyes water, and both make me stare into the mirror and wonder




at 31 (almost 32), am i still getting zits!?!

Sunday, January 07, 2007

get crazy with the cheese whiz.

ohh. check out Cheemato Soup, fourth line down.

i went to the gym tonight, and as i was stretching (and trying to ignore the bald guy next to me doing hip rolls very enthusiastically) the song Loser by Beck came on my iPod. i've always liked the song, but i've never really heard all of the words. tonight, i heard him shout for the first time:

Get crazy with the Cheese Whiz!

perhaps i was just hungry, but i immediately came home and looked up the lyrics.

(just in case you're wondering, soy un perdedor is Spanish for I'm a loser, so now, if you know any Spanish losers, you can tell them.)

In the time of chimpanzees I was a monkey
Butane in my veins and Im out to cut the junkie
With the plastic eyeballs, spray-paint the vegetables
Dog food stalls with the beefcake pantyhose
Kill the headlights and put it in neutral
Stock car flamin with a loser and the cruise control
Babys in reno with the vitamin d
Got a couple of couches, sleep on the love-seat
Someone came in sayin Im insane to complain
About a shotgun wedding and a stain on my shirt
Dont believe everything that you breathe
You get a parking violation and a maggot on your sleeve
So shave your face with some mace in the dark
Savin all your food stamps and burnin down the trailer park

Yo. cut it.

Soy un perdedor
Im a loser baby, so why dont you kill me?

Soy un perdedor
Im a loser baby, so why dont you kill me?

Forces of evil on a bozo nightmare
Ban all the music with a phony gas chamber
cuz ones got a weasel and the others got a flag
Ones on the pole, shove the other in a bag
With the rerun shows and the cocaine nose-job
The daytime crap of the folksinger slob
He hung himself with a guitar string
A slab of turkey-neck and its hangin from a pigeon wing
You cant write if you cant relate
Trade the cash for the beef for the body for the hate
And my time is a piece of wax fallin on a termite
Thats chokin on the splinters

Soy un perdedor
Im a loser baby, so why dont you kill me?
(get crazy with the cheese whiz)
Soy un perdedor
Im a loser baby, so why dont you kill me?
(drive-by body-pierce)
(yo bring it on down)

(Im a driver, Im a winner; things are gonna change I can feel it)

Soy un perdedor
Im a loser baby, so why dont you kill me?
(I cant believe you)
Soy un perdedor
Im a loser baby, so why dont you kill me?
Soy un perdedor
Im a loser baby, so why dont you kill me?
(schprechen sie deutches, baby)
Soy un perdedor
Im a loser baby, so why dont you kill me?
(know what Im sayin?)

Saturday, January 06, 2007

seeing red.

flipping through a special prom issue of Seventeen magazine with a straight male friend of mine the other day at work. we were both disturbed by the hoochie-ness of most of the dresses ("not my daughter!") as well as the rail-thin arms of many of these girls ("she needs a sandwich!"), but our differing reactions to the color of one dress was interesting to me:

"red. i don't like it. it screams, i need attention."

" says, i'm not afraid to be seen."

Thursday, January 04, 2007

making the most of it

a couple of years ago, i purchased Mesu Portion Control bowls:
Dieting is hard work and measuring every bite makes it even harder. So we’ve created MESÜ®, a line of bowls that help you put an end to portion distortion, without signaling to the world that you are on a diet. MESÜ means measure beautifully™. Great design and subtle graphics let you measure perfect portions directly in a bowl that you bring to the table!
i am absolutely ashamed to admit that i purchased these. i'm embarassed for two reasons:

1. that i spent $50 (!!!) on something that takes advantage of a dieter's neverending quest for the panacea product that will lead her/him/them to weight loss. what will naturally follow, of course, is success, fulfillment and everlasting bliss. yeah, riiiiiiiiiigggggght.


2. that i actually bought them from QVC.

i have, however, found the absolutely perfect use for them that redeems their less noble beginnings.

1 1/2 cups of dark chocolate m & m's. now that's "measuring beautifully."

Wednesday, January 03, 2007

rub some dirt on it.

We took a new flower arrangement out to Mom last week. Sorry, I don't have any pics, although we could get some if you want them. I'm not much on putting flowers together, so Wendy was in charge of the selection. She put together some white Hydrangias (spelling?). I think Mom would have liked it or at least pretended that she did. Grant was screwing around and fell face first into Mom's vase. Busted his lip and gum pretty good. Bled for awhile. Cried a bit, but he's OK. I told him to "rub some dirt on it" and it would be just fine.

i sure do wish that worked for all boo-boos.

december 28 was my mom's birthday. she would have been 62, i still miss her like the dickens and why didn't she leave me that groovy dress?


because everyone knows spaghetti tastes better after it's been on your face.

Tuesday, January 02, 2007

The future was plump with promise.
Maya Angelou

Monday, January 01, 2007

happy new year!

wishing you a 2007 full of all things weird and wonderful...

and may the office vending machine always have your favorite snack.