We here at The Frisky try to take a “free to be you and me” attitude when it comes to body image, but today we are here to tell you that if you are a fashionista who aspires to have designer shoulders — sharp, tailored, chic (think: McQueen, Balmain, Lanvin) — you are going to have to get shoulder plastic surgery if you really want to be on trend. After all, who wants to have unstylish shoulders? We don’t. Our as-yet unaltered shoulders cringe at the mere thought of how pre-surgically off-trend they are. Thankfully, there’s a name for our disorder: shoulder dysmorphia. The diagnosis comes from DIS magazine, which predicts, “consumer anxieties over natural shoulder inadequacy will skyrocket, forcing women to undergo startling new surgical procedures, season to season, in order to keep up with the newest designer shapes.” We cannot wait to get our shoulders sharpened to shiny, skin-covered points that will make walking down a crowded street a dangerous event — for those who pass too close to us. To find out what type of shoulders you should tell your plastic surgeon to give you, check out the options after the jump. Keep reading »
Really, though, all of that is just her luggage for a trip to South Africa for the World Cup. If only she were planning a not-so-covert move far, far away … [Fashion Indie] Keep reading »
You know that line in Sir Mix-a-Lot’s “Baby Got Back,” where he goes, “I like big butts and I cannot lie”? Well, I have a big butt and I cannot lie. I’ve always had a big butt. Ever since I can remember. To be clear, it’s not like I have trouble getting through doorways, but there is some serious junk in my trunk. It has been referred to as a “bubble butt.” There was a time in my life when I lived in California when I was described as having an “LA face and an Oakland booty” (er, if you don’t understand, it’s a California thing). And I’ve certainly had my share of butt-related catcalls, random shoutings out of car windows, and general ongoing butt commentary. It’s kind of like my butt is a spectacle. Keep reading »
I’ll be honest — I always feel a little ridiculous when I go to the gym. There I am, walking on the treadmill, in between the buff dude pumping iron and the impeccably toned woman running effortlessly on a steep incline; it seems brutally obvious what a workout novice I am. Even in yoga, where I feel more at home, embarrassing moments occur: the occasional, sudden bout of audible gas, toppling over while attempting a fairly easy pose. There may have even been a queef once, when descending from shoulder stand. In short, Madonna, I am not. After the jump, a few of my fellow Frisky staff members share their workout bloopers — share yours in the comments and I’ll pick the best ones for a roundup next week! Keep reading »
“Clueless” might just be the greatest movie of our time because it’s one of the most iconic pop culture references shared by both Generation Y and Generation X. And OK, yeah, I maybe wrote a 20-page term paper on the movie for my senior semiotics seminar, so it’s clear I’m obsessed. (Loser!) But, here is some of the most rad news I’ve heard in a while: Calvin Klein is remaking the dress Cher Horowitz wore on her date to the dance with Christian. The sad news: It costs $916. At the same time, this kind of makes me want to start a campaign for someone to reproduce the entire “Clueless” wardrobe. Keep reading »
Welcome to Would You Rather, a game in which we concoct hypothetical style dilemmas and ask you to choose which option’s worse.
Today’s challenge: If you had to get a tattoo on your butt, and had only the choice between inking yourself with your own name or your boyfriend’s name, which would it be? And we’re not talking any small affair here, we’re talking full-out designed cursive, preferably with a heart or dove motif. The boyfriend’s name might work out in the end if you stay together for life … but if you split up, you will then have to explain to every new guy you sleep with who Pauly D, Ronnie or “The Situation” is. (Sorry, couldn’t help it.) Put your own name on there, and it’s kind of like branding yourself, but also a good reminder should you ever find yourself so drunk you can’t remember your name. (Eek, we hope not!) And to those readers who may already have their guy’s name or their own name tattooed down there, you can still play because you’re awesome.
Sound off in the comments below! Keep reading »