IN WHICH THIS HOT TOMATO PLUGS INTO GIRLLL POWER.
The ageless actress Betty White said, “Why do people say ‘Grow some balls?’ Balls are weak and sensitive. If you wanna be tough, grow a vagina. Those things can take a pounding.”
Damn straight. READ MORE
(Mrs.Hot is writing a book! The latest inspiration, empowerment and entertainment returns soon.)
IN WHICH I CONSIDER EXORCISING MY INNER COUCH POTATO.
An indispensable component of our 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 CAN’T DENY MY YEN FOR YIN.
The dictionary defines “feminism” as “the theory of the political, economic, and social equality of the sexes.” The verb, “feminism,” is of course defined as the “organized activity on behalf of women’s rights and interests.”
True feminism is equal rights, of course. But beyond that, it should be the celebration of the feminine, and the freedom to be the fabulous woman you are. For me and many women, inherently decorative creatures, our Inner Goddess predisposes us to making our surroundings and ourselves beautiful, for ourselves and others, and yes, that includes men. It has nothing to do with patriarchy or matriarchy — it’s simply accessing and expressing the Divine Feminine within us, outward.
IN WHICH I EXPLORE MY FEMININE WILDS.
I recently saw a couple Instagram posts from a so-called feminist, in fact, what’s known as a “feminazi.”
She was venting her fury at men in a long tirade of defiant demands. “I don’t need to wear lipstick. I don’t need to be thin. I don’t need to grow my hair long. I don’t need to shave my legs,” and more. You could almost see her sputtering, red face, hear her stomped foot. A furious, “feminist” toddler having a tantrum. She didn’t convey power, in fact, but powerlessness.
Makeup according to her, is a “tool of the oppressive patriarchy.”
(Mrs.Hot is writing a book! The latest inspiration, empowerment and entertainment returns soon.)
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.
(Mrs.Hot is writing a book! The latest inspiration, empowerment and entertainment returns soon.)
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.
(Mrs.Hot is writing a book! The latest inspiration, empowerment and entertainment returns soon.)
IN WHICH I CONSIDER THE PLIGHT OF THE HOLE-LESS.
On your online dating profile you are asked to list your relationship preferences. The choices are: New friends; short-term dating; long-term dating; casual sex. I chose all except “casual sex,” a.k.a. “one night stand,” because I felt that designation sent out a skanky vibe I had no interest in transmitting; and I had no doubt, moreover, those men interested in such would be mightily transmitting, alright — every unsavory sexual malady.
IN WHICH I HAVE A BAD FATTITUDE.
For some time now, ever since the dawn of the self-help movement in the Seventies, it has been fashionable to worship a new deity on the block, Self-Esteem. That which was denied us boomers by our often petrified, repressed and distant parents, is now the cornerstone for raising an “empowered” child. Kids born in the last thirty years enjoy the constant stroking of helicopter, “friend” parents who assure the child will never experience even the most minor disappointment.
(Mrs.Hot is writing a book! The latest inspiration, empowerment and entertainment returns soon.)
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.
(Mrs.Hot is writing a book! The latest inspiration, empowerment and entertainment returns soon.)
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.
THE BOOK OF HOT: A MANIFESTO is here to rethink, revitalize and revolutionize feminine romance and sexuality.
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.