IN WHICH I’M REMINDED, REGRETFULLY, I CAN’T UNSEE THAT.
How ugly can it get when it comes to online dating? Well, physically there’s truly no limit; but ugliness comes in other forms, too, and blatant crudeness often makes an unwelcome appearance.
IN WHICH THE LOSERS TEACH ME A THING OR TWO ABOUT WASTE REMOVAL.
As I navigated the shoals of online dating, there was certainly many a wreck which amounted to nothing more than a blatant waste of energy; over time there was such a pattern of behavior, I became aware of these as types, then cut them off at their pathetic pass.
IN WHICH I CONSIDER EXORCISING MY INNER COUCH POTATO.
An indispensable component of the all-important Presentation — and the GAS: Glamour, Attractiveness and Sexiness, that fuels it — is a smokin’ hot, healthy body. Toned and taut in some places, with that extra female va-va-voom of soft ‘n’ curvy in others, our body is the temple to Venus we live in 24/7.
IN WHICH I ENJOY A BODICE-RIPPER — THANKS TO A DAY OF CARBS. (The saga of Brian continues after this thankful interruption.)
I love the beautiful message of Thanksgiving, and not just because for a change I’m eating — and not dating — a turkey … or because I let myself gorge on a carb heaven of mashed potatoes, stuffing, and pecan pie.
IN WHICH I COMMIT TO EAT HEAT.
As I’ve told you in my earlier posts, dear readers, I, Mrs. Hot, transformed from shot, to hot — losing a ton of weight, and then having cosmetic surgery to alter my too-large birthday suit, skin fillers to fill in lines and Botox to numb away the railroad tracks between my eyebrows.
Now my challenge is to maintain the weight loss — the most difficult part for most, considering 95% of dieters gain back the weight, then add even more. I had yo-yoed myself several times in the past. Now, however, I know I’ll keep it off forever, because I’ve finally made my peace with making not just a temporary fix, but forever lifestyle changes.
Maintaining the “Attractiveness” component in our goddess vehicle powered by GAS –Glamour, Attractiveness and Sexiness — requires vigilance. I weigh myself everyday, and write the number down in my calendar — that way, good or bad, I force myself to own it. Should that number rise three pounds, well, that’s my red flag to get back on mainly protein, that day: I have zero tolerance now for spiraling out of control and out of my favorite hot dresses.
When faced with every food decision, every day, it’s important to ask the essential question: Is this worth wearing? Because how many muffins, in fact, are worth sporting as muffin tops? Sure, you might be able to balance it by starving yourself the rest of the day (UNhealthy, plus wrecks your metabolism) or burning it off in the most sadistic bootcamp on your gym’s class schedule. But I find that I make better choices if I assume I’m going to wear it, which has, in fact, been the usual outcome. I mean, I may as well just rub French fries on my inner thighs!
But I was a Girl Scout and as such, follow the motto “Be Prepared.” So I never leave home without my antioxidant, anti-aging armament: a baggie of organic raw pecans, almonds, walnuts (three nuts highest in antioxidants); another with cut-up veggies in bright colors; and a couple part-skim mozzarella cheese sticks. A big organic apple is also always in my bag; carby, yes, but the lesser, low-glycemic kind that’s chock-full of nutrients, plus the fiber fills me up. Whenever hunger strikes, but especially in the late afternoon, these nutritious weapons zap the low blood sugar that used to send me to the candy aisle for a — that’s right, you guessed it — Chunkie (irony seems to be just plain inescapable in my life) … or several.
Eating well is the best revenge — you’ll see when you go to your high school reunion.
Yours truly,
IN WHICH I CONSIDER THE DRIVE-BY HIT.
I must admit, even an unapologetic hussy like me, Mrs.Hot, seldom derives much pleasure from one night stands. They were, of course, a typical, casual feature of my Seventies coming of age — as emblematic of that era as the Hustle. On those Boogie Nights when the disco was closing with Donna Summer’s Last Dance, it was, indeed, your last chance for romance tonight — and if that was with a stranger, whatevs.
IN WHICH YOUR FAIRY GODMOTHER TURNS OUT TO BE…YOU!
Humans are visual creatures — we experience the world through our eyes, and we make our first immediate judgments about people based on how they present themselves. Whether they’re happy, sad, rich, poor, cool, nerdy, attractive, unattractive, love themselves, or hate themselves.
IN WHICH I CONSIDER THE DICKTATORSHIP OF SEXIST LABELS: WORDS MATTER.
Dearest Reader: To get you into the mood, the soundtrack for this post is the beyond hot “Age Ain’t a Factor” by Jaheim — and watch the sexy video after for continued inspiration, as well.
When Madonna was on the Ellen Show speaking of dating a twenty-two year-old, Ellen De Generis pointed out that when men do that, nobody bats an eyelash. That’s because the double standard is entrenched — it’s a given, plain and simple, that older men dating younger women is absolutely acceptable. Unfortunately, through our acquiescence and hesitance to challenge the status quo, we women have been unwitting accomplices in perpetuating this myth that men dating younger women is appropriate, while women doing the same is somehow improper.
Why, so foreign, nay creepy, a concept is an older woman with a younger man, it’s attracted a vicious label: “Cougar.” Indeed, such a sense of entitlement is attached to the concept of men dating younger women, and it’s considered so normal, there isn’t even a like label for them: yet another double standard.
We allowed this “C-word” to slip, unquestioned, into mainstream acceptability and familiarity. Now it’s up to us to liberate clueless men from the delusional viewpoint that only THEY are privy to the privilege of dating younger. As noted previously, the sexist “C-word” must be banished from our vocabulary; just as the label “Man” has proven enough to describe a male who dates younger females, the label “Woman” is sufficient to describe a female who dates younger males.
Activate your activism — I do, 24/7. For example, when a young twenty-something who’s hitting on me online refers to me as a “Cougar” (that’s right, hitting on me and says that!) I say, “Nope, I’m a Woman.” Then I delete his sorry ass. You bash? Then you trash, dude.
We women must, moreover, embrace our healthy, natural inclinations. (What is hotter than a strapping young buck, rock hard and ready to rock it downtown till we scream for mercy?) Besides, young things are so tender and yummy — baby carrots, baby peas, baby back ribs, baby lamb chops — when we consider the ever-delicious hot meal of male, succulent young entrées deserve a place on that buffet!
I salute those already-liberated of our sex who choose theirs fresh-picked. But those sexy heroines who pioneered the way deserve to be honored, as well.
Here’s to you, Mrs. Robinson.
Yours truly,
IN WHICH I CALL FOR WOMEN TO RIDE THE NEXT HOT WAVE OF FEMINISM, SURFING THE SWELLED.
When promoting her tour this spring on the Ellen De Generis show, Madonna was asked the age of the youngest man she’s dated recently; she was fifty-six.
“Twenty-two,” Madonna replied. The response to this was a smattering of claps, then more, then many, as applause built, peaking in a full-on burst of enthusiastic, thunderous approval.
That applause crescendo illustrated the light of consciousness beginning to dawn, then taking hold, then triumphing, in the women there: in the beginning, the majority experienced a knee-jerk reaction of outrage, the familiar one from the trench dug in their subconsciousness by society’s “norms;” yet when confronted with the prospect of sex with a twenty-two-year-old, their prejudice was busted by the unavoidable truth, and their secret, primal attraction to hot, young men prevailed; the validity of Madonna’s choice could not be denied and, moreover, deserved downright celebration.
They clapped in approval, solidarity, admiration and most certainly, envy. But there’s no need for jealousy, in any instance in life: abundance in all things — material, physical, emotional, indeed, all of our needs — is our birthright; we just have to open ourselves to it, and believe we deserve it. And that abundance includes plentiful doses of whatever our heart desires, including smokin’ hot sex — and with men of any age. What could be better than a workout for EVERY aspect of your heart, including a calorie-burning cardio one!
When asked why she likes younger men, Madonna said she likes their “energy.” And I would agree, in the sense that their perpetually forward-looking state of youthfulness is a powerfully positive vibration to be around. But knowing Madonna, she’s at the very least also giving the thumbs up to their hot physical energy and drive. After all, what’s not to love about a rock-hard throbber, the ability to reload quickly for another round, and the stamina to go long and hard into whatever overtime is necessary, even an epic all-nighter.
With an Energizer Bunny like that, I’ll never need to toy with that Rabbit again.
Yours truly,
I'm a gorgeous goddess of a certain age who transformed from shot to hot, a feminist playa refusing to go into the sunset without a Mojito in one hand and a hunka hunka burnin' love in the other! Because sixty IS the new forty or even thirty I will not be dying with my boots on, but with my Jimmy Choo stilettos, thank you very much. I, a sexually liberated woman, stand defiantly against ageism and sexism, adamantly asserting not only is it possible to maintain and even enhance our sexual allure as we ripen, we women have the same right as men to vibrant vitality and romance at any age.