IN WHICH I EMBRACE EXERCISE, AN ABSOLUTE ESSENTIAL DAILY EXERCISE IN SELF-LOVE.
Just watching my calories and carbs would never cut the mustard, my new condiment of choice since my beloved mayonnaise had been reduced to a soupçon of its previous robust intake. READ MORE
IN WHICH I MAKE MY PEACE WITH THE FACT THAT IF I AM TO HAVE MY JUST DESSERTS, I CAN NEVER, EVER LIVE AGAIN ON JUST DESSERTS.
Now that I’d made the jump to joy that is my vocation as a writer, I’d have to attend to the bad habits which had enlarged my presence while shrinking my prospects. READ MORE
IN WHICH I BEGIN TO EMBRACE SELF-LOVE, BEGINNING WITH MY TALENT.
Transforming my diamond-in-the-rough self into the dazzling brilliant I was always meant to be (Talk to me, Harry Winston!) would require chipping away at several facets. READ MORE
IN WHICH I EMPLOY A PRIVATE — MAKE THAT PRIVATES — DETECTIVE, OF SORTS, TO REVEAL THE SOURCE OF MY ISSUES.
Though I felt my current weight imbalance — like all previous episodes of blimpdom — had been conceived in that closed sexual chakra in childhood, I had never understood its exact genesis at a specific moment in time. READ MORE
IN WHICH I BEGIN MY EPIC MAKEOVER BY TACKLING MY ISSUES AT THEIR ROOTS — AND CLAIROL HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH IT.
I had been a longstanding student of yoga, though my practice of it had taken a back seat as my own backseat expanded: the Plow — with my legs behind my head — was no longer an option, my huge rack and belly effectively suffocating me in that position. READ MORE
IN WHICH I DECIDE, “AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT.”
Now, as part of my Herculean transformation, I committed to my dream of writing full time. This required a brave, bold step signaling to the universe that as my vision board decreed, I deserve literary success, while signaling to myself, that I deserve to be happy. READ MORE
IN WHICH I BEGIN THE TRANSFORMATION FROM SHOT TO HOT.
Now if there’s one thing my coyly unspecified number of years on this earth (alright, just between us, fifty-eight of the pesky things) have taught me, it’s the power of focus to attract what you want. READ MORE
IN WHICH I DECIDE TO REINVENT MYSELF INTO A GLAMOROUS CREATURE, IN THE MOLD OF SHE WHO DREW ME TO NEW YORK IN THE FIRST PLACE, HOLLY GOLIGHTLY.
Growing up in the monotonous, gray winters of the Midwest, I was struck by the revelation of Breakfast at Tiffany’s at the age of eight. I declared, “That’s for ME!” and never looked back; since then, no matter where else I’ve tried to live, I’ve come crawling back. READ MORE
BECAUSE SOME DO, INDEED, LIKE IT HOTTER.
Greetings, and salivations, dear ladies! Though I should perhaps doff my Chanel chapeau to the men who may well partake of this blog, especially the adorable gay men I find indispensable to life itself, absolutely divine companions — I myself have been accused of being a gay man trapped in a woman’s body! Possibly the greatest compliment I could ever receive! READ MORE
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.