You may recall my response to New York mag’s biting piece on Victoria’s Secret Angel Miranda Kerr, in which I voiced my concern that the Angels may not in fact be human but rather, if I may quote myself, “tall, lithe, bronzed to perfection, fast-metabolizing aliens with silky long hair and bedroom eyes.” Indeed, every single time I hear one of them speak, my terror is reinforced. For those of us who find simultaneous delight and horror (the two are not, in fact, mutually exclusive) in watching these genetically blessed humanoids discuss personal matters while scantily clad as if they always just hang out in lingerie and unbuttoned oxford shirts, thank the powers that be for bringing us the Victoria’s Secret YouTube channel. This time, to get you all up in the Valentine’s Day spirit, the girls are dishing on their first kisses. Delightful! [Fashionista]
Normally, the onslaught of Valentine’s Day ephemera inspires a mere eyeball roll from me, but this year I find myself sprinting past heart décor window installations back to my apartment, a zone void of pink and red reminders of the guy who decided to end our story — the same week I got laid off my job, which just so happened to also fall on the week before the impending holiday. My job and I had a solid eight-year relationship, until the corporate office decided to “downsize” and I got dumped. The guy and I? We had a good run of late-night laughter, cooking with rare spices (sumac, anyone?) and forging the kind of intimacy that makes you quietly happy, for as long as it lasts. “Longer than Kim (Kardashian) and that Kris guy,” as he put it during our breakup.
Being unattached and unemployed this Valentine’s Day is a constant reminder that I would like to be tethered, well, to something. Whether my final destination is a new gig or a new guy (or both!), getting there is the fun part. Or not so fun part. Here’s my plan of action … Keep reading »
Of all the things you see charted in elementary and middle school — the human tongue, the color spectrum– what to expect from romantic relationships would seem to be a pretty conspicuous omission. We asked you to show us the charts you wish you’d seen before you ever admitted to liking someone as more than a friend. Read more…
The first and only time my husband called me a “nag” invoked a cringe-worthy shudder, followed by the thought, “Am I seriously turning into my mother?!” In my personal catalog of unsavory labels, “nag” occupies a space somewhere between “brownnoser” and “snob,” insults I neither want to be called nor become, yet sting fiercely because they often embody a flicker of truth. No woman aspires to be a nag. Yet the moniker remains synonymous with marriage, as though men across the globe all spat, “Nag!” when the word “Wife” is drawn in those psychological word association tests.
The stereotype that all wives are nags is filed neatly under another catalog of mine, the Marriage Myths List. My favorite examples include “married couples don’t have sex” (really?), “all husbands are under the thumb” (mine’s not), and “new moms inevitably let themselves go” (yes, she’s a model, but has anyone seen Miranda Kerr lately?). Since I am in the business of debunking matrimonial fables, it’s worthwhile to expose the easy and cliché tag for wives who mean well everywhere. Truthfully, nagging should be defined as a breakdown in communication that can characterize any relationship, not just marriage. Keep reading »
After the Patriots lost the Super Bowl this past Sunday, quarterback Tom Brady suffered from the blows of fans and media alike who said he just couldn’t make it happen. This is where his wife, professional model Gisele Bundchen, stepped in. She was quoted saying that Tom couldn’t “f—king throw the ball and catch the ball at the same time.” Obviously this slam at the rest of the team turned the media into a frenzy and painted Gisele into the bitchy wife. But is she really? Read more…