Note: Let me first start by saying this excludes anyone 8 and younger and for now we are not going to even start with the girls who call their boyfriends “Daddy.” Right now, I’m looking at the 16+ crowd who still, for some really weird reason, need to call their fathers “Daaaadddddddy.” Ladies, this is for you.
Dear women and young women who still say “Daddy,”
Maybe it’s because I don’t understand you, that I hate hearing your shrill voice yell for your “Daddy” as you stomp your foot. Maybe it’s because I’ve had old men ask me if I need a new Daddy, so the fact that you refer to your father as “Daddy” complete creeps me out. But, it’s probably because while you are doing so, you are usually throwing a tantrum, and you are also well into your 20′s. That’s why I usually look at you with disgust then opt to walk the other way, hoping not to run into you again. Read more… Keep reading »
Dear Spray-On Sunscreen,
Can you believe it? Summer has finally arrived! Just in time for Memorial Day weekend, the temps reached the 80s, the sun was shining bright and full, and I spent the daylight hours worshipping in its glory. Because I am serious about protecting my precious skin from harmful UV rays, I hit the drugstore to stock up on sunscreen with SPF 30; for my face, I selected a cream variety, and for my body, I chose you, Spray-On Sunscreen. Keep reading »
I feel like you and I got off on the wrong foot. Or, at least we would have, if you had feet. You’re just a color so that wasn’t really the correct phrase to use. But here’s the thing… Keep reading »
Let’s have some real talk … I know you think you’ve been having a really bad week and everything, what with your totally unfair “Good Morning America” interview earlier this week, when you were asked by Robin Roberts about your life after Rihanna. You remember Rihanna, right? She was your girlfriend — the one you beat up in February 2009, so violently that many media outlets refused to show the pictures of her. Well, Chris, you really have managed to outdo yourself this time; acting a fool on “GMA” was bad enough, but it was the unapologetic bulls**ttery after the fact that really takes the cake. You should be shocked and awed that you even get invited onto talk shows at all. I know I am. Keep reading »
Dear Wedge Heels,
My whole life, I’ve wanted to be three things: “Sabrina the Teenage Witch,” a writer, and the kind of person who wears high heels everyday. I’ve failed mightily on the first count, done pretty well on the second, and the third, well, that’s a bit more complicated… Keep reading »
Dear Jeans Designers,
The other day I was standing in line at the grocery store and for no particular reason at all I had a flashback to a few years ago when super low-rise jeans were all the rage. Every rack at every store from Forever 21 to J.Jill was stocked with nothing but thong-baring jeans with 3-inch crotches. As an Italian girl with an ample belly, this was a very dark time for me… Keep reading »
Dear Single Self,
Hi. How are you this holiday season? Feeling a little hopeless? Downtrodden perhaps? Frustrated? Bitter? A little panicked about turning 32 with no potential prospects on the horizon? Feeling like a big, fat failure in the relationship department? Feeling like fate may have cheated you? I thought so. I’ve come with some words of advice: BE PATIENT, YOU PSYCHO. Keep reading »
Dear Famous Footwear,
We need to talk.
I feel like I’ve been trying to make things work with you for so long. My friends rave about you constantly: your great prices, your huge selections, your friendly employees. I watch them point proudly to their cute new shoes and I think, “If it worked for them, it will work for me, right?” Keep reading »
Dear Michael Kors,
When I go shopping, I tend to channel a raccoon—I’m instantly attracted to anything shiny, sparkly, or fishy.
This means that I have a closet full of sequined miniskirts and silver boleros and earrings shaped like salmon fillets. I’ll go to the store with every intention of purchasing simple black trousers, but within seconds I’ve been seduced by the flashy racks of ridiculous trend pieces and I end up buying gold lamé harem pants instead. I have a really hard time buying sensible clothes. Keep reading »