I do not like my nose. Although I no longer hate it with the same gusto I did at 15, I still do not accept it.
I do not like my thighs; they’re huge and riddled with stretch marks thanks to a growth spurt at 12, and my stomach refuses to be flat – but I guess I have Lombardi’s pizza to blame for that one. I wish my ass was perkier; my boobs are too big and too saggy, my lips should be less thin and pout on command, and my teeth are too small — straight, but small. My dentist refuses to give me veneers; we’ve been arguing about it for years.
In other words, I’m not very keen on my body, and I certainly don’t accept it. If one more person tells me I have to, I’m going to lose my shit and throw something really heavy and dangerous. Keep reading »
Once again I was looking at Cosmo, furrowing intensely and wondering where on earth they come up with their nonsense. I do this from time to time because I follow them on Twitter (don’t ask me why.) I also like to give my brow a workout with all the aforementioned furrowing.
In this episode of Cosmo forces Chatel to face-palm, they gathered up some of the lies men tell to get into the pants of the ladies:
You already know men will do anything to get a woman into bed—especially when she’s as awesome as you are. And they’re rarely slick about it. That’s why we asked you to tweet us the biggest doozies you’ve heard from dudes in search of a little nooky. Get ready to LOL at these weak lines. Keep reading »
As we covered last week, ladies’ night is essential. It’s time to check in with your girls, escape, and really get your bond on while leaving the work week behind. It’s also an evening that calls for sequins and stilettos; well, usually.
If you’re out owning the streets with your crew, you’re bound to get into some situations that can be both sticky and fun. What’s a night without a little drama? It’s a night you could have just stayed home, that’s what. So, do the night right, and don’t miss a beat. Keep reading »
If we were to take anything important from the Christmas classic “It’s A Wonderful Life” (besides the fact that every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings), it’s that no man, or rather, woman, for our purposes, “is a failure who has friends.” This is completely true. Have you ever imagined your life without your friends? It’s all tea parties with stuffed animals and lengthy chats with the walls in your bedroom – none of which talk back, or tell you how amazing you look in those jeans. It’s, for lack of a better word, sad.
Whether you’re single, in a relationship, engaged or married, it’s essential to make sure you have a regular standing “ladies’ night” with the women in your life. Why? Well, because, as we just covered, you’re a failure if you don’t have friends. No! But friends do add the necessary color to our lives that we all need to flourish, grow and be deliriously happy. Keep reading »
It was after L left and I looked in the mirror that I realized I might have a problem. My breasts and neck were covered in bruises and bite marks. One was even bleeding; that would leave a scar. I was heading to my parents’ house in two days for Christmas, and although I knew I could cover the mess that had been made of my boobs, my neck was going to be a different story. If I had a stockpile of turtlenecks, it would have been one thing, but I’m just not a turtleneck type of girl.
When I first started dating, I knew that I liked to be bitten. There was something both sensual and animalistic about it that I couldn’t help but be enticed by. When I masturbated it was always something I thought about: that aggressive devouring that would leave battle scars. However, high school, and even college guys, were hesitant to rock the boat in their sexual performances. So, when I’d whisper, “Bite my neck,” I would either end up with sad little hickeys or their efforts would be so weak that I would never bother to ask again. There’s nothing worse than a weak bite. Keep reading »
Traveling to another country is always exciting. This is especially true if you go alone. You’re out there yucking it up solo, living your life and maybe even doing things that you wouldn’t do back home. You are you, but the vacation version of you. And what does the vacation version of you do? Takes a shit ton of chances! Not crazy chances, but rockin’ the boat type of stuff that will make for great stories when you get home.
So if you’re single, out in the world and maybe even in a country where there is a barrier thanks to language, how do you meet someone? Whether you’re looking for a one-night-stand, a fling or maybe something long lasting, you have to be able to get over all that “lost in translation” stuff. It can happen, because as they say, “love is the international language.” Or, to be more honest, straight-up banging actually is. Keep reading »
My sister is the good daughter. My sister was kind enough to get married and procreate. She’s not only doing the species a favor, but my parents as well. My parents had always wanted to be grandparents to a couple of rascals. My sister gave them two: Jackson and Elliot. My parents are obsessed with them.
Just as it was when my sister and I were little, there’s nothing in the world my parents won’t do for Jackson and Elliot. My mother has completely re-centered her life around them and refuses to miss a holiday or birthday. I spent Christmas on the couch by myself, while my mom catered to my sister’s kids every whim in Colorado. “That was the choice you made,” my mother said. I’m not sure what choice she’s talking about — the one where I decided to move to New York City to pursue writing, or the one where I thought going to Colorado for Christmas would be the pits. We both hung up on each other before we could get into a lengthy discussion and ruin the holiday even more. Besides, being on the phone with me was tearing her away from the grandkids, and we can’t have that, can we?
Groan. Keep reading »
Recently, I was asked by a women’s relationship website to recap how all of us are Bridget Jones in some way. The reason for the assignment was, in case you don’t already know, Helen Fielding has written another chapter in the life of the beloved character. I took the assigned topic without question, because it’s true – most women do have quite a bit of Bridget in them. If that had not been the case, then the books and eventual movies would have fallen flat and I wouldn’t be writing this right now.
But as I worked on that particular piece, I realized that despite her divine quirkiness and adorable flaws, she isn’t exactly the best role model for single women. I’m not suggesting all role models should be perfect like Hillary Clinton, but they should offer a bit more than Bridget. And as a single woman myself, I know this to be fact because single women are always right. Or at least this is what I tell my married friends – whom I then force to agree with me by withholding any further cupcake baking and distribution. It always works. But I digress.
Let’s look at a few examples where Bridget falls flat. Perhaps, if we’re to learn anything from her at all, it’s the complete opposite of what she often represents. You don’t have to agree with me on these points, but then again, you’ve never had my cupcakes so you’ve nothing to truly lose. Keep reading »
As any blogger who writes about sex will tell you, we get a lot of “gifts.” When I say “gifts,” I actually mean sex toys to test out in the hopes we’ll write about them later. If you saw my “special” drawer next to my bed, you’d see that it’s full of a variety of dildos, vibrators, anal plugs, vegan lubes, flavored lubes, handcuffs, a bamboo paddle and even a pair of nipple clamps.
While some of these items still remain in their boxes (pun!) untouched, others have been opened and hugely appreciated by either myself or the person with whom I’m sharing my bed. At one time, I had so many vibrators (new and unopened), that I just kept them on my kitchen table and would let my friends take whatever they wanted. Seriously. What does one woman, with only two orifices need with all that stuff? (I say two, because I’ve never been one to put a vibrator in my mouth – just not my thing.) Keep reading »
I like to consider myself a strong and independent woman. I live alone; I take care of myself and never waiver in my beliefs. I’ve managed to convince myself that I’m fearless; I look confrontation in the eye and am without regret in my behavior – even when it isn’t the most flattering or well thought-out way to handle certain situations. I am, admittedly, a hot head.
I do not allow others to define me, put me in a box labeled by how they see me and will scream at the top of my lungs before I’ll ever let someone try to silence me. I am all these things; I have been all these things, and years from now these expectations that I have for myself will still be true. I don’t give a fuck who might be angered or won’t agree along the way. In the words of the great sailor, Popeye, “I am what I am.”
However, there were a few years in there, the dark years, that I was not all these things. When it came to Christoffer, I was a shadow. Keep reading »