The Diva is BACK!

Brotherly Love At It's Finest...

This is a time lapse video of my three sons last night, while I was trying to take a group photo...

How Not To Look Like A Trainwreck: The Britney Spears Edition

#1:  Any hairstyle shorter than a millimeter is generally unattractive on a woman.  If spying an idle electric hair clipper on a Friday night fills you with the overwhelming urge to shave your head, it's time to hire a therapist or get back on your lithium.  "It'll grow back" doesn't apply here.  Oh, and ... mullets are no longer in style.  Especially rabid mullets like this one.

#2:  I'm at a loss for words.

#3:  Do not wear curlers outside.  This fashion statement might work okay for Ma Clampett, but it is not appropriate for women with any shred of self-pride still intact.  Nothing says,  "Pick me up a pack of smokes and a box of wine on your way home from the meat packing plant and don't forget to gas up the camaro" like this look.

#4:  If you're prone to get hungry enough to eat your fingernails, it might be a good idea to make time for an occasional meal or invest in a roll of duct tape for your mouth.  Hands that look like they've been fed to a paper shredder belong at a nail salon, inside gloves or in the pages of a medical journal.

#5:  Ummm, yeah... no explanation required.

#6: Unless you are in the middle of that pesky dream where you show up in public without your pants on (again) a top does not...I repeat DOES NOT double as a dress. Tops were meant to be worn with bottoms... of the pant, skirt, short or sweatpant variety... not the pink, fleshy kind.

#7:  Nothing screams "HOT MESS!" like a bad weave.  If your hair extensions look like you glued them in while deep into an acid trip in a dark room, it's time to break Rule #1, take a mulligan and start over.

Diva Britney

The Britney We All Love and Miss

Hell in the Forest (The Truth About Camping)

Last weekend, I came to the conclusion that camping was invented by a masochist.

The hubster and I got invited to go on a little hiking/camping expedition with a couple we recently met.  It seemed like a good idea at the time.

I have to admit the closest I had ever come to real camping was pitching a tent in the backyard when I was 8 and I've always kinda wondered why a perfectly sane person would choose to spend their vacation sleeping on the ground in the middle of the forest.  Running water, indoor toilets:  GOOD.   Biting insects, peeing in the woods:  BAD.

The hike to our campsite was about 5 miles and was some of the most beautiful scenery I have ever laid eyes on.  The hiking wasn't too strenuous, and the the company was engaging, but 3 miles into our trek we ran into insects whose only fun in life comes from flying around and biting anything with skin.  Because of the biting flies and mosquitos, the final two miles of the hike were absolutely brutal.   I was slapping myself so much I felt like I belonged in a mental ward somewhere in restraints drugged to the eyeballs.

It was only 3 in the afternoon when we reached our campsite but we all hurriedly rolled out our sleeping bags, climbed into them fully clothed and zipped them up over our heads.  Had anyone been perched in the trees above us, they would have wondered if a pyramid had exploded nearby and mummies had rained down in the forest.  

Yes, we were finally free of the clouds of blood sucking bugs but if you've ever tried to have a conversation while lying flat on your back, yelling through layers of down with three other grown people, you know it isn't the optimal way to spend your Saturday afternoon.

Every so often, I'd peek out of my bag to check the status of the air around us which was surprisingly free of flying demons for about two minutes when they'd catch scent of human skin and start dive bombing.

Around dusk, the hubster decided enough was enough.  He got out of his sleeping bag, collected some twigs, wood and dry moss and started a campfire which seemed to scare off several battalions of insects while we cooked a delicious dinner of canned baked beans and burned hot dogs.

It was about that time that I literally had nature calling and crept off to find a place to pee with dignity.  It was dark, my flashlight was dim and the first small area I found without too much brush, I called good.

I could feel the plants brushing against my bum while I squatted, but they didn't look like poison oak, so I did my thing keeping my hawk ear on my surroundings for any inkling of animalish rustling.  I've never had to run with my pants around my ankles, but I could probably give a bear a run for its money if I had to.

Ten minutes later, while we were all chatting around the campfire and contemplating retiring to our mummy encasements for the night, I began to feel an all consuming stinging on my backside and decided it probably hadn't been the best idea to grab the nearest foliage and wipe.  I was too embarrassed to say anything to anyone, so I agonized in private and scratched in the dark.  

I looked through my backpack for something to relieve the agony and just in case you've ever wondered, chapstick DOES NOT help stinging, itching or burning in the south 40.  Needless to say, I learned that even though they don't look like poison oak, stinging nettles have been aptly named.

If you think that's funny, try making it through a night of sleeping on a concrete slab-like surface with a sleeping bag zipped over your head while sweating like a monkey and trying not to scratch the itching butt rash from hell.

Despite a stiff neck, a lot of creepy scampering, scraping and twittering sounds nearby, an odd "Blair Witch" cracking of big trees all around us, and a strange howling a few miles away, I got a really good night's sleep of, oh.... say.... an hour.

We woke in the morning to an extinguished campfire, abundant insects emitting shrill dentist drill-like skin seeking radar and several holes chewed in our backpacks with our food strewn everywhere.  

There was no arm twisting required when I suggested we backpack immediately out of Hell, rent rooms at the nearest hotel, have a swim in the pool and a decent meal.  Did I mention the baked beans on the menu the night before?  I'm sure that little detail didn't make us any more invisible to the bugs.

I've decided that one single super fun camping excursion was so fulfilling it will last me a lifetime -- The woods can carry on just fine without me.  I'll be here in the suburbs with my head to toe calamine-lotioned body,  covertly scratching my nettled butt on anything stationary until my rash heals... and then I'm recommending a do-over at the beach in a nice hotel.

The Diva

Answers To Common Pregnancy and Child-Rearing Questions...

Q:  Should I have a baby after 35?

A:  NO!  35 children are enough.

Q:  I'm two months pregnant now.  When will my baby move?

A:  With any luck, right after he finishes college.

Q:  What's the most reliable method to determine my baby's sex?

A:  Childbirth.

Q:  My wife is five months pregnant and so moody that sometimes she's irrational.

A:  So, what's your question?

Q:  My childbirth instructor says it's not pain I'll feel during labor, but pressure.  Is she right?

A:  Yes, in the same way a tornado might be called an air current.

Q:  When is the best time to get an epidural?

A:  Right after you find out you are pregnant.

Q:  Is there any reason I have to be in the delivery room with  my wife while she is in labor?

A:  Not unless the word 'alimony' means anything to you.

Q:  Is there anything I should avoid while recovering from childbirth?

A:  Pregnancy.

Q:  Do I have to have a baby shower?

A:  Not if you change the baby's diaper very quickly.

Q:  Our baby was born last week.  When will my wife begin to feel and act normal again?

A:  When the kids are in college.

You Know You're Trailer Trash When...

Red Neck Tanktop

(look closely...)

The Halloween pumpkin on the porch has more teeth than your spouse.

You let your twelve-year-old daughter smoke at the dinner table in front of her kids.

You've been married three times and still have the same in-laws.

You think a woman who is "out of your league" bowls on a different night.

Jack Daniels makes your list of most admired people.

You wonder how service stations keep their restrooms so clean.

Anyone in your family ever died right after saying "Hey, watch this!"

You can burp and say your name at the same time.

Your wife's hairdo was once ruined by a ceiling fan.

Your junior prom had a daycare.

You think the last words of the Star Spangled Banner are "Gentlemen, start your engines!"

You lit a match in the bathroom and your house exploded right off its wheels.

The blue book value of your truck goes up or down depending on how much gas is in it.

You consider watching WWF before bedtime foreplay.

You have flowers growing in a bathroom fixture in your front yard.

You have to go outside to get something out of the fridge.

One of your kids was born on a pool table.

You can't get married to your sweetheart because there's a law against it.

You think a quarter horse is a ride outside Wal-Mart.

You think loading the dishwasher means getting your wife drunk.

 

Diva Survey

What is the most random object around you? A large bottle of Pepto-Bismol.

What were you doing at 8:00 this morning? Looking for the truck that ran me over in my sleep and performing a close up inspection of the inside of my toilet.

What were you doing 30 minutes ago? Still looking for the truck.

Last person you saw? My 6 year old, as he ran to find my husband screaming, "SHE'S DOING IT AGAIN!!!"

Do you like your life as of now? In general, you bet... right this minute I'm forced to spend too much time inspecting porcelain and hunting down trucks to like much of anything.

Last thing you purchased? Large bottle of Pepto Bismol, 24 pack of Charmin.

Four words to explain why you last threw up? Uh... Hellifino, Divine Retribution?

How’s your mood lately? Surly, pathetic, weepy.

Where did your last hug take place? From my two year old, after bed time stories last night, in his bedroom.

What are your plans for the weekend? Anything that doesn't involve looking for trucks or inspecting porcelain.

Ever kissed someone who smokes? Once, but the yellow teeth, bad smell, and foul taste kept me from trying it twice. It also cured me of that curiosity I used to have regarding licking ashtrays...

Are you tired right now? Oh, yes.

Do you chew on your straws? What kind of asinine question is that?

What’s your favorite room in your house? My office. It has soundproof walls and a deadbolt.

How many children do you plan on having? The three boys I already have -- Did I mention the deadbolt and soundproof walls in my office?

Have you stolen anything in the past month? Does the pen with the giant spoon taped to it from the grocery store check-out counter count? Or the extra 4 mints from the bowl when leaving the restaurant? The pack of gum from my teenager's dresser? How about the...

Is your hair curly or straight? Depends on the day and whether I've kissed anyone who smokes.

Who was at your house last? The grocery delivery man and my mother-in-law. They did not arrive or leave together.

Where is your first love? In witness protection.

Are you able to climb a chain link fence? -- With or without the stilettos?

Who’s car were you in last? Mine.

What did you do last Thursday night? Classified, cannot divulge.

What are you wearing right now? -- Who is this??! (click.) Black tank top, white jammie bottoms, and a bad case of bed head.

Where did you sleep last night? On the nice, comfortable, cold tile floor of my bathroom.

Who was the last person to tell you they love you? My husband ...through the crack under the bathroom door.

Are you ashamed of your past? Does this include incidents involving xerox machines, hastily sent emails, or bartenders named Matthew?

Where is your phone? I don't care.

Do looks matter? Is the Pope Catholic?

Do you trust people? Only the ones that are under 6 years old, haven't done time in prison, don't own more than 4 cats and/or don't wear clown makeup.

How long did it take you to fill out this survey? 10 very long minutes.

Do You Want Fries With That?

So, I have this girlfriend who is constantly complaining about her weight, while she continually stuffs crap in her mouth that increases the problem. Just this afternoon, this particular conversation took place.

We decided to go on a mall excursion and entered the mall through the food court. She is carrying a purse with Barry Sears' The Zone conspicuously visible. The latest in her endless stream of diet books.

Her: Are you hungry? I'm starving. I haven't had anything to eat all day.

(It's 11 a.m.)

Her: I swear I never eat anything. This weight just won't come off. I just keep gaining. What's up with that? Bad metabolism, I guess...want anything?

Me: I guess I could use a Starbucks coffee.

Her: Oooohhhh, a frappuccino sounds so good! Have you tried the chocolate coconut one?

Me: No.

Her: I had one last week and have had to have one every day since then. I'm addicted.

We step up to the Starbucks counter.

Me: I'll have a grande drip coffee... what are you getting?

Her: I'll try the mint mocha chip frappuccino.

Clerk: What size?

Her: Gosh, I'm thirsty. What's the biggest you have?

Clerk: Venti.

Her: Okay, I'll have that.

A Venti mocha chip frappuccino is a slenderizing 600 calories -- 200 of which are pure fat calories. The kind of calories that go straight to a girl's tail section. In other words, this beverage contains more than the caloric content of the average meal.

Clerk: Whipped cream?

Her: Okay.

We stand in line and get our drinks then start to walk toward the rest of the mall... she stops short.

Her: Wait. Are we getting lunch?

Me: If you want something, go ahead...

I pull my Zone Perfect bar from my purse and flash it.

Me: I'm good.

Her: I am sooooo hungry. Do you mind if I stop at Fat Burger?

I have never heard of a more aptly named restaurant. We approach the Fat Burger counter while I open my boring Zone bar.

Clerk: Can I help you?

My friend scans the menu for a good minute.

Her: I'll have the King Burger (820 calories).

Clerk: Do you want fries with that?

Her: Sure. (550 more calories).

She looks at me with a smile and a glint in her eyes, takes a big sip from her mint mocha frapp.

Her: King Burgers are soooooo good. I'm soooooooo starving!

I'm reviewing the menu (which lists the nutritional information) and I do some quick mental math. Her meal and drink totals approximately 2000 calories. This one meal totals what the average person consumes in one day.

Clerk: Will that be everything?

Her: Oh, and I'll have a diet coke.

This would be funny if it wasn't her usual MO. Nearly every single day. She is 80 pounds overweight, has high cholesterol for which she takes medication, high blood pressure, is riding the rim of Type 2 Diabetes, and claims to be on a perpetual diet. In fact, I don't remember a day in the past 10 years I've known her she hasn't complained how much she is suffering from meticulously following her latest diet without any result.

I'm on a slenderizing plan myself, so I don't have much room to talk -- However, I stay on my plan every day and my weight is coming down faster than Amy Winehouse in jail. I'm currently 15 pounds closer to my goal -- Thank you, thank you very much.

I'm considering confronting her about her constant complaining about her weight. I'm tired of hearing her BS on this topic. I'm considering telling her to either 1) stop complaining if she's not going to seriously try to lose the weight that is bothering her; or 2) get on the wagon and take her health seriously.

I should probably keep my mouth shut, but I'm so tired of this I'm considering phasing out the relationship. It's gotten so old, I'm considering applying on the topic's behalf for historical landmark status.

The Diva

Hot Mess Alert!

A Diva Wouldn't Be Caught Dead - Part 2



With bad teeth: Nothing says I-can't-pay-a-sober-man-to-kiss-me like missing front teeth. If you have lost one of your front six teeth, you must immediately 1) start brushing your teeth; 2) invest in a helmet; or 3) lay off the meth pipe.



With bad hair extensions: If your hair looks like you pasted it in during a bad LSD trip in the dark, it's probably a good idea to take out your hair extensions, stop abusing your own hair and grow it out. You're not fooling anyone.



Showing off a case of rampant cellulite: It's a fact of life that nearly all women have some degree of cellulite on their lower half -- whether it's a few tiny dimples or a blackberry-like texture -- we're all cursed. HOWEVER, if your butt looks like it should be painted orange and placed in the nearest fruit bowl, it's probably time to stop showing it off, do something about it or wear some freakin' clothes.

Viva La Diva

Conversation Overheard at the Department of Licensing

A Korean boy of approximately 17 walks up to the Department of Licensing clerk after waiting approximately 90 minutes for his number to finally be called. As he passes by, I think to myself he has the smallest eyes I've ever seen peeking out from extremely tight eyelids. The waiting area holds approximately 100 people captive with nothing to do but gawk, tap their feet and eavesdrop.

The boy presents his documents, pays his fee and gets in line for his driver's license picture which is taken and then handed to him about 15 minutes later. He walks out of the DOL and stands on the sidewalk holding the new license about 6 inches from his eyes. He examines it a good minute before walking back in the door and straight up to the clerk.

Clerk: Can I help you?

He hands his license to the clerk.

Boy: My eyes are closed.

Clerk takes a quick glance at the photo.

Clerk: No they're not.

Boy: Yes, they are. Look.

Clerk looks harder at the license.

Boy: They're closed!

Clerk studies the photo, then pulls the photo up on his computer screen. He enlarges it, looks at the photo for 5-10 seconds.

Clerk: I can't tell.

Boy: They're CLOSED.

Clerk motions to Clerk #2 to his left. Clerk #2 walks over to the computer screen. Clerk #1 & Clerk #2 examine said picture. Clerk #2 looks at the boy, at the picture, at the boy again. Boy shifts his weight from one foot to the other and back again. He lets out a big sigh.

Boy: They're closed. Can I please just get another picture?

Clerk: That's being awfully particular, but okay.

The boy walks over and has another picture taken, waits, receives his license. He looks at it closely again for several seconds. Hands the license back to the clerk.

Boy: I blinked again.

Clerk looks at the photo and pulls the picture up on the computer screen. Clerk looks at Boy, at picture, at Boy.

Clerk: They don't look closed to me.

Boy: They're closed.

Clerk: C'mon man, that's a decent picture. No one's license picture is any good.

Boy: Yeah, but I bet their eyes aren't full on closed, either.

Boy is getting pissed. Boy's mom approaches the desk. Clerk #2 approaches. Clerk #3 approaches. Three clerks lean in and examine the picture on the computer screen, look at the boy, look back at the screen.

Clerk #3: I think they're open.

Boy: (big sigh) They're clos...

Clerk #2: I'll take it one more time, but that's it.

Boy stands in front of camera. Clerk #2 steps out from behind the camera.

Clerk #2: I'm going to count to 3. When I count to three, open your eyes like this... (opens eyes abnormally wide) ...and I'll shoot it.

Clerk #2 steps back behind the camera.

Clerk #2: One, two...

Steps out from behind camera...

Clerk #2: (opens eyes abnormally wide again) Like this.

Boy: I AM!

Several of the DOL captives in the waiting room are suddenly very interested in their shoes and have a weird I-am-trying-not-to-break-out-laughing silent seizure grimace on their faces.

Clerk #2 counts down, snaps the picture, looks it over on the computer screen. Clerks #1 & #3 crane their necks to see the photo from their respective stations. Clerk #2 turns the computer screen for Boy (and the captive audience) to see.

Clerk #2: Closed again?

Boy: (Bigger sigh) THEY'RE OPEN.

Mom nods. Clerk #2 prints the license and hands it to Boy. Boy takes another long look at the photo and stomps to the door -mom in tow. Boy and mom exit. Silence.... then... almost everyone in the DOL breaks out in applause and laughter.

Hasta La Ha Ha,

The Diva

The Un-Diva Captured In The Wild

What's more un-diva-lized?



Whale Tail?

or...



Muffin Top?

Vegas Baby!

So, the hubster and I just returned from Las Vegas. We had a splendid, romantic, relaxing and rather entertaining time.

Over the years, Las Vegas has been popularly known as: "The City of Lights", "Sin City", "The Entertainment Capitol of the World" and people from all over the world know the phrases "Viva Las Vegas!" and "Vegas, Baby!"

After spending 4 days walking around and viewing the scene, I have a list of new nickname/slogan suggestions for Las Vegas Chamber of Commerce to consider for their next marketing campaign:

Viva Las Is-It-Hot-Outside-Or-Am-I-Menopausal?!

What-Day-Is-It City

The Yard Long Frozen Margarita Capitol of the World

Bankruptcy, Baby!

Viva Las I-Can't-Feel-My-Ass-I've-Been-Sitting-At-This-Nickel-Slot-Machine-Six-Hours!

Crabs, Baby!

The-Price-Of-This-Dinner-Entree-Must-Include-A-Hooker City

The City of Mile Long Cab Lines

Viva Las Herpes!

The Mexican-Hooker-Card-Flicker-Dude Capitol of the World

The City of Missing and Exploited Kneecaps

Grandpa Needs a New Pair of Depends, Baby!

Viva Las I-Just-Lost-My-Kids-College-Fund-At-Blackjack!

Just-$100-More-At-Black-Jack-And-I-Can-Win-It-All-Back, Baby!

The City of Light Wallets

Tylenol PM Hangover

I took Tylenol PM last night due to a migraine headache and I was "hungover" from it half the day. The stuff works by knocking you out like an Evander Holyfield punch to the jaw...or four.

One minute you're writhing on the sofa with a pain in your head that feels like Rosie O'Donnell has taken up residence in your frontal lobe...you're watching late late night infomercials about colon cleansers because you can't sleep and even the prospect of lifting your thumb to the remote control to change the channel seems pain inducing... and the next you're waking up 6 hours later with a kink in your neck from Hell, a pool of slobber under your cheek the size of Loch Ness, your children poking you with sharp objects to see if you're still breathing and a fog in your head that just won't go away.

If you've ever had pain so horrible you've begged someone to knock you out -- Buy a bottle.

I propose the following name change for this product:


I mean...what do they put in this stuff, anyway?

Rohypnol?

Chloral hydrate?

Liquid Lawrence Welk reruns?

Oh, HELL-to-the-NO!!!

Call me immature... Call me petty... Call me anything... but call me a DIVA.

Today, I was a vengeful prankster and I got this stranger at the supermarket but gooooood. Yes, I'm 42. Yes, I'm usually considered a respectable and kind person. Yes, I'm above this kind of behavior. But I am also only human and sometimes people really need to get exactly what they have coming.

This afternoon I went to the store to pick up some groceries. After circling the parking lot 4-5 times looking for a spot that was closer than 3.5 miles to the door, I spotted a mom heading to a mini-van with 3 kids and a shopping cart full of food. The parking stall was two from the front of the store and I didn't even need to draw a handicap placard with eyeliner on the back of a baby wipe to get it.

I just had to wait patiently ...and if I haven't mentioned it before, waiting patiently is NOT one of my virtues.

I pulled into the aisle, put on my blinker and waited...and waited....and w.a.i.t.e.d. Anyone who is a frazzled mom or has waited for a frazzled mom who has just dragged 3 hungry kids through the store at the end of the day knows it can take a decade to buckle all three angels into their car seats, load the 10 bags of groceries in the trunk and then stand outside the car with a wad of kleenex until the urge to start sobbing stops. But I digress. It must have been a good five to seven minutes of just sitting there waiting, but the spot was worth it!

In fact, it was such a great spot that I heard angels singing and harps playing as she backed out and the spot became VACANT. I was preparing to drive my SUV into the blessed parking stall when a woman in a HYBRID buzzed straight into it before I could scream Biofuel.

I sat there with my perfectly glossed lips hanging open while she nonchalantly got out of her car. I pulled up behind her, rolled down my window and said, "Excuse me, I was waiting for that spot for at least five minutes!" She looked at me like I suddenly sprouted a second head and says, "Really? Maybe you should buy a bigger car so people can see you... something that guzzles a little more gas... like a TANK!" then she jogged past me into the store.

Say, WHAT??!!!

At that very moment people all over town were checking the news for a warehouse or forest fire because the sheer volume of billowing smoke churning out my ears was suffocating.

Pardon me, but as a mom of three, I need a car that can actually fit three car seats without stacking my kids on top of each other like little freight containers.

After finally sandwiching my car between twin diesel trucks at the far end of the parking lot, I marched into the store to confront this sanctimonious broad and settle the score. I held my cell phone in my hand with my finger on my husband's speed dial number (in case I needed back up or bail money) as I marched up and down the aisles in search of HER.

I spotted her self-righteous hair in the "feminine and reproductive" items aisle and I suddenly decided marching up to her and screaming her weave off her head was so 10 minutes ago.

Moments later, I silently followed her to the checkstand and watched as she glanced up from the National Enquirer she was flipping through only to notice the cashier staring at her and the box boy snickering into his apron as he bagged 20 bottles of lube, 10 tubes of vagisil, a case of contraceptive sponges and a dozen pregnancy tests. Oh... and 5 boxes of Ex-Lax, a six pack of toilet paper and a plunger.

As she turned and caught my eye -- while I stood basking in the glow of the rush hour shoppers smirking, pointing, and giggling in her direction -- I saw a look in her eye that could have melted steel.

I walked out the door, RAN to my car and laughed all the way home.

My bad?

The Diva

Letter to Maxi Pad Company

Dear Mr. Thatcher,

I have been a loyal user of your Always Maxi Pads for over 20 years and I appreciate many of their features. My favorite feature has to be your revolutionary Flexi-Wings. Kudos on being the only company smart enough to realize how crucial it is that maxi pads be aerodynamic. I can't tell you how safe and secure I feel each month knowing there's a little F-16 in my pants.

Have you ever had a period, Mr. Thatcher? Ever suffered from 'the curse'? I'm guessing you haven't.

Well, my 'time of the month' is starting right now. As I type, I can already feel hormonal forces violently surging through my body. Just a few minutes from now, my body will adjust and I'll be transformed into what my husband likes to call 'an inbred hillbilly with knife skills.'

As Brand Manager in the Feminine-hygiene Division, you've no doubt seen quite a bit of research on what exactly happens during your customers' monthly visits from 'Aunt Flo'. Therefore, you must know about the bloating, puffiness, and cramping we endure, and about our intense mood swings, crying, and out-of-control behavior. You surely realize it's a tough time for most women.

The point is, sir, you of all people must realize that America is just crawling with homicidal maniacs in Capri pants... Which brings me to the reason for my letter.

Last month, while in the throes of cramping so painful I wanted to reach inside my body and yank out my uterus, I opened an Always maxi-pad, and there, printed on the adhesive backing, were these words: 'Have a Happy Period.'

Are you flipping kidding me? Does any part of your tiny middle-manager brain really think happiness - actual smiling, laughing happiness is possible during a period? Did anything mentioned above sound the least bit pleasurable? Well, did it, James? FYI, unless you're some kind of sick S&M freak girl, there will never be anything 'happy' about a day in which you have to jack yourself up on Motrin and Kahlua and lock yourself in your house just so you don't march down to the local Kmart armed with a hunting rifle and a sketchy plan to end your life in a blaze of glory.

For the love of God, if you just have to slap a moronic message on a maxi pad, wouldn't it make more sense to say something that's actually pertinent, like 'Put Down the Hammer'?

Sir, please inform your Accounting Department that, effective immediately, there will be an $8 drop in monthly profits, because I have chosen to take my maxi-pad business elsewhere. And though I will certainly miss your Flex-Wings, I will not for one minute miss your brand of condescending bullshit. And that's a promise I will keep.

Always.

Wendi Aarons Austin, TX

The Invasion of the Granny Panties

After my shower this morning I happily sauntered to my dresser and opened my "intimates" drawer only to discover to my horror that while The Diva in me has been away, the drawer in question has been unceremoniously taken over by... wait for it... can you guess?? ...wait for it... (cue the Beverly Hillbillies music) GRANNY PANTIES!!

It seems these evil things have been killing, maiming, consuming and/or otherwise raping and pillaging my other undergarments right into extinction.

After some intense hand to hand combat, I was able to fight them off and rescue my final pair of black bikini underwear which I immediately donned under my cute new jeans and sweater combo before I fled the war theater to the armory in search of the combat gear needed to fend off this unfortunate overtaking of Diva territory by these evil invaders.

I ran up and down the aisles of the armory looking for bear-sized traps, RPGs, grenades, punji sticks, landmines... anything that would assist me in the horrible ensuing skirmish awaiting my return to enemy territory.

I have drawn up my battle plan and am hiding behind the door of my office with my combat gear readying my courage to return to the war theater of my walk-in closet. I have written my will and attached it to a love letter to my husband and children in the event of my unfortunate demise.

I will deploy to the volatility of my underwear drawer and face the enemy occupiers with an RPG and rocket launcher, a long stick(for removal of the carcasses), a brown paper grocery bag (for interment of said carcasses), a Bic lighter (for cremation of said carcasses), and some reinforcements consisting of 8 fashionable replacement soldiers who will hopefully survive the battle with me and supply the area with the requisite 4 Cs of coverage, comfort, cute factor, colorfulness, and also add a dash of femininity.

Wish me luck!

If I'm not back tomorrow... call the U.S. Embassy.

The Diva

A true Diva wouldn't be caught dead...

5) ...exposing a well-developed muffin top.


Let's face it most of us (especially those of us over the age of 30) have some form of muffin top ranging from the only noticeable when you bend forward to a my-belt-is-somewhere-inside-this-flesh-colored-nuclear-mushroom-cloud muffin top. Most of us don't leave the house flaunting it. If you see a woman walking around looking like the above photo, cut some arm holes in a Hefty bag, pull it on over her head and tell her to just say NO to Muffin Top. Either that or buy her a t-shirt that says, “When I Grow Up I Want To Be The Michelin Man”.

4) ...wearing multi-leveled hair.


Nothing says, "Joe Bob, pick up a box of wine at the 7-11 on your way to the double-wide" like a she-mullet. Enough said.

3) ...with hands that look like they've been recently fed through a meat grinder.


If you're prone to get hungry enough to eat your fingernails, you should probably make time for regular meals, carry a Balance bar or two in your purse at all times, or make friends with a roll of duct tape.

2) ...with lipstick on her teeth.


If you don't like to walk around looking like a freshly fed vampire bat -- four little words of advice.... lip stain...hand mirror.

1) ...SMOKING.


A more undivalike habit you will be hardpressed to find.

Proof: Name one other thing you can do to prematurely leatherize your skin, prune your lips, yellow your teeth, deepen your crow's feet, putrify your breath, yellow your fingers and fingernails, stinkify your clothes, cause a multitude of unattractive illnesses and ...kill you dead. I rest my case. If you still think a ciggy hanging from your perfectly glossed lips or a smoke ring rising above your elegantly coiffed head adds to your fabulousity...

...tell it to her.

Public Service Announcement Recommends Consuming Tequila To Improve Quality of Life!

Free Video Hosting

Drink up! (... But you may want to listen closely to the side effect warnings...)

The Diva

Shoe Shopping

Another pound and a half down, divas! This chick is just a smidge off from having lost 10 pounds even -- that's 1/4 of the way to my goal, and it's all seeming a lot more doable now! Funny how some progress and momentum can really make a girl happy and determined to see the plan through! Now, I need to implement some exercise, because I know it will seem to zoom past a lot quicker if I burn more calories through exercise!

Every fabulous diva should have a great pair of shoes for every mood. If you're a mom with habits like I've developed over the past several years -- you've got a couple of pairs of boring but favorite shoes (probably flip-flops or clogs and a pair of sneakers) that you wear all the time and several others that sit in your closet looking pretty, but you never wear. I thought it time to start making over the shoe section of my closet with some fierce kicks to replace the dowdy, drab and manly ones that have been occupying my closet the past few years.

I went to one of those warehouse sized shoe stores that carry every middle range shoe designer you can think of. There must have been thousands of different styles, colors and brands under one roof. I swear I walked through the front doors and violins and harps started playing -- like I'd walked in from a delirious week in the desert with a stinky spitting camel, into an airconditioned mecca oasis.

My goal was to pick up a pair of platform sandals to wear with my new jeans and some open toed sandals to wear on our forthcoming trip to the sunny southwest for spring vacation.

I was surprised to find that even though I was on a mission to fierce-ify my shoe selection, I kept finding myself drawn to the old standards... flip-flops, ballet flats, and tennis shoes. How unfabulous of me! I had to force myself to veer into the more feminine choices -- heels -- forged from more glamorous fabric than canvas.

8 years ago, before my second child, I wore a lot of heels. I was modeling and acting and since heels create the illusion of longer more slender legs, I wore them nearly every day. I remember how great and put together I felt every single day as I dressed for work and sauntered out the door in my very feminine shoes... what the heck has happened to me? I want to resurrect my old habits of dressing up and feeling great instead of dressing down and feeling... well...not.

More evidence that I am in dire need of this self-imposed diva MAKEVOER...

At the end of my shopping trip, I ended up with the sandals and platforms I came for -- both hot looking and very feminine and I'm really pleased with the choices.




This could have been ugly... The way I was shopping before I caught myself wallowing in the pig sty of my old habits, I could have easily ended up with clown shoes and combat boots. The goal is a couple new pairs of shoes a month -- and the garbage can for the man shoes and unattractive flats that are now clonking around in my closet.

Hasta La Shoe-sta

The Diva

The Importance of Well Kept Hands

Every fierce diva should have well-cared for hands. Let's face it: "Diva" mixes with motoroil or garden dirt under ragged fingernails about as well as, well... Howard Stern's mouth and a bar of soap.

One of the things I most love to do is go to the nail salon. After a busy week of writing until all hours of the morning for my career, taking care of three active boys, catering to my family, packing lunches, and wiping runny noses and dirty rears... I love to just sit in a spa pedicure chair with the massage/heat feature running full tilt and have my finger and toe nails pampered by the highly skilled hands of a couple of manicurists.

For that 90 minutes, I feel like a queen...

...until they start speaking Vietnamese behind my back.

Well, I guess I can't even say "behind my back" because it's right in front of my face and I KNOW they're talking not just in front of me, but ABOUT me... and I'm sure most of what they're saying are not the nicest of things. Otherwise, they'd say it all in English.

My plan is to buy the Vietnamese lessons by Rosetta Stone and learn the language forward and backward so when they're saying "fat ankles" and laughing about my Gandhi foot calluses, they aren't able to pass it off as something kind.

They always smile sweetly while they speak the mother tongue, but in my mind the conversation goes something like this...

ME: Can you please take them a little shorter? Thanks.

They both nod and smile.

#1 Manicurist: (vietnamese) Who she think she is Paris Hilton?

#2 Manicurist: (english) She say she like ring.

ME: Thank you. It was a gift.

They both smile.

#1 Manicurist: (vietnamese) Ugly gif from ugly man.

#2 Manicurist: (vietnamese) Fake, too.

#2 Manicurist: (english) She say, look very espensif.

I smile.

#1 Manicurist: (vietnamese) Gumball machine.

Manicurist #1 starts massaging hot oil on my right calf. She turns my leg to see a small red "mole" on the back of my leg.

#1 Manicurist: (english) Lucky mole.

#1 Manicurist: (vietnamese) What kine disease this bag lady have?

She shows the tiny benign mole to Manicurist #2, who looks at me and smiles.

#2 Manicurist: (english) Lucky mole. In my country, red mole, lucky mole.

#2 Manicurist: (vietnamese) Good thing you wear gloves, your hand fall off from that.

Smiles at me.

ME: Yeah, I have those darned things all over. Red specks. Irish skin.

#2 Manicurist: (english) Lucky mole, you get very rich.

#1 Manicurist looks at mole again.

#2 Manicurist: "Red speck" -- right -- red mountain more like it.

#1 Manicurist: (vietnamese) She turning into Elephant Lady.

#2 Manicurist: (vietnamese) She give elephant disease to ugly man who give ugly gumball ring.

They both laugh. I smile.

I smile and nod not knowing what they're saying, but trying to be gracious.

They both laugh harder.

#2 Manicurist: (english) Yes, my country, lucky mole get very, very rich.

And so the conversation goes for the duration of the appointment while they insult me every which way and I smile and nod and speak sweetly to them.

Imagine their horror one day when I get up to leave after 90 more minutes of this type of treatments and say "Same time, two weeks?" in perfect Vietnamese...

Divalicious!

Master Cleanse/Lemonade Diet - Day 5

Okay, I've lost another couple of pounds - for a total of 7 pounds in 4 days. This is an amazing cleanse, if you can stick to it. I've developed some really NASTY side effects so unfortunately, despite my success, I'm going to have to ease off The Master Cleanse immediately.

The purpose of the master cleanse is to detoxify the body and the weight loss is merely a beneficial side effect of it. After hearing so many great success stories of 15 pounds in 10 days, and 21 pounds in 20 days... I just had to pick it up and try it. I thought I could lose a lot of weight in short order and clear my body of toxins to boot, but now I'm wondering if the people that have succeeded with the plan have an asbestos lined digestive tract or what?

There have been a lot of really great cleansing benefits for me -- even in just the four days. I developed severe irritation in an unfortunate area causing a lot of bleeding and then "the area" was being scorched to death over and over by the consistent copious passing of salt and cayenne pepper. This, coupled with nearly fainting twice last night, has me thinking it's time to hang up my maple syrup! I'm a tough broad, but I think continuing with that kind of agony for 6 more days would be reason enough for a prompt and thorough mental evaluation ...and for my husband to secretly request I be put on a 72 hour hold at the nearest mental hospital.

Another day of this and the Britney Squad would arrive at my home in the middle of the night to whisk me away in restraints and forcefeed me Taco Bell through my IV bag. Hmmmm... after the month I've had with my three boys and husband including a very serious eye injury, a few surgeries, trips to the ER for stitches, a few different illnesses including strep throat and cleaning up after puking kids, that really doesn't sound half bad. Maybe I will continue with this, after all. :-)

The great thing is I've kicked off my weight loss quest with a 7 pound reduction -- just what I needed to get seriously going with this. I'll implement the organic orange juice portion of the plan for the rest of the day and then go into the vegetable phase tomorrow, followed by the vegetable soup tomorrow night. After that I'm going to take a break from the salt water flush for a couple of days, then reimplement the laxative tea at night and the salt water flush in the morning, up the exercise and eat only fruit, veggies, whole grains and lean protein.

Woohoo... just call me The Incredible Shrinking Woman!

The Diva

Master Cleanse/Lemonade Diet - Day 4

THIS IS HARD!!!!

I'm down another half pound today. Not the two pounds I was hoping for - but I'll take the half pound. I feel like i didn't take in enough lemon drink and water yesterday, so when I did my salt water flush it didn't work so well this time around. For what I drank, not much came out and I feel sort of bloated. The plan is to improve the liquid intake today to see if it makes a difference and I think I might try the salt flush again this afternoon -- God help me.

I drank my tea too early last night and while watching a couple of episodes of MI-5 with The Hubster, I had to keep pausing the DVD, excusing myself to the throne and camping in the castle (bathroom) for long periods of time. It took us almost two hours to watch a 45 minute episode... I know my husband was laughing at me while I was away each time -- this is just one more crazy ass stunt his wife is up to -- but he didn't say a word. He did lay his head in my lap for a few minutes during our TV viewing, but I think he became genuinely frightened of doing that after my third trip to the john in 30 minutes.

I'm no longer having racing thoughts of carbohydrate orgies, but I feel so empty that I'm wondering how long I can keep this up.

I've been thinking a lot about this whole carbohydrate addiction thing. It is really a tough thing to overcome. A person has to eat in order to live and if you're trying not to indulge and you are surrounded by a world that is carb mad, cooking meals, making snacks, packing lunches and going out to eat, it's sort of insane to think you are going to be able to stay away from eating them. The trick is staying away from them for the most part and when eating them once in a while, keeping it to once in a while and not letting the carbs take over your life.


The Diva

Master Cleanse/Lemonade Diet - Day 3

I am so proud of my diva self for surving to Day 3 of this cleanse. I feel pretty congested in the sinuses today, I have a sore throat and I woke up with a headache this morning, but I'm still cranking along.

After that dratted salt wash -- yes, I still hate drinking that nasty brine -- the headache has eased up and I've started to feel a bit brighter in the mind. Since yesterday afternoon, I have been slow and feeling a bit drugged.

All that is coming out now is yellow water... I must be getting clean inside. I think, by the time this is through, I'll be as bright and shiny in the intestinal tract as my 18 month old baby! Speaking of my baby, if this dang constant peeing thing keeps up, I'm going to start borrowing his diapers like a crazy astronaut on a cross country drive to confront my romantic rival -- only I won't carry around the wig, duct tape and stun gun.

I'm two pounds down today again... WOOOOOHOOOOOOO!!! I can't tell you how happy that makes me. Two pounds per day is a beautiful thing, and an added bonus to cleaning out and detoxing my body!

I'm heading out for a wog with the baby jogging stroller to try to expedite the weight loss, even though I really don't feel like it.

I'm also still having occasional racing thoughts about a ravenous rendezvous with a bucket of carbs, but they seem to be getting better now.

Live fierce!
The Diva

Master Cleanse/Lemonade Diet - Day 2

12:00 Noon

Two pounds down, and I'm feeling pretty well right now. I was feeling exhausted, headachy, hungry and really craving some cheese this morning, but after the salt water flush, I'm doing a lot better. According to the book, you feel the worst during this program if you are not elimating often enough and the toxins are circulating around in your bloodsteam -- the salt water flush really does flush toxins out of your body and right down the toilet. I feel much better now.

I plan to get a workout in today in the form of a long wog (walk/jog) with the baby in the jogger stroller this afternoon. Heck, I figure I better get in some exercise during this 10 day stretch if I want to really make this effort worth it. Master Cleanse + Exercise = Loss of Extra Tonnage. I need regular exercise in general and will get to work on a post-cleanse plan probably consisting of a mix between our health club, and DVDs/wogs at home. Or maybe something a little more divalicious like tennis lessons.

I'm liking the lemon drink a lot. It's tart, sweet and hot all at once. The aftertaste is also really good -- especially if you're a fan of spicy food. It gives you a circulating warmth throughout your body that feels really good - sort of like spicy teriyaki, or jalapeno poppers, or a big fat spicy Chipotle burrito... without the satisfying and filling sensation of actually eating something. Sigh.

HOWEVER, at this point I'm really wondering if all this cayenne pepper is going to come out in the form of flames at some point. What goes in, must come out -- right? I'll be able to do the college frat boy methane booty (gas + match) fire trick, minus the match. If you see Headline News in a day or two of some woman spontaneously combusting on the West Coast... that would be moi.

A note of advice on the salt water flush/laxative tea for those of you that are considering trying this cleanse:

If you use the laxative tea at the wrong time of day, you will have problems! The tea is used every night right before bed. The book also says that if for some reason you can’t do the salt wash in the morning, you should have another cup of the tea instead -- although I wouldn’t recommend the tea without the salt wash to flush it out of your system… unless of course, you have neighbors you don’t like. When the tea kicks into overdrive your bathroom door is likely to be blown right off its hinges onto their roof or through their living room window! …or if the tea kicks in at work, you will likely suffer extreme humiliation when everyone sees you crawling your ass back and forth from your desk, down the hallway and to the bathroom on your hands and knees every ten minutes moaning in pain. Enough said.

11:00 p.m.

Struggling a bit tonight with hunger and severe food cravings. I want peanut butter and white rice, like I want air to breathe. I also feel sort of cold and dozy. I'm heading off to bed now to get unconscious and forget about my empty tummy -- I think tomorrow after washing away more toxins (which, according to The Master Cleanse book are causing all these racing thoughts and detox symptoms) I will feel much better again.

I've started getting congested sinuses and a sore throat tonight, which I understand are also probably a sign of pushing out the toxins from all the nooks and crannies of the body. I'm looking forward to getting this rush of energy in a couple of days that I've read so much about. I'll weigh in again tomorrow and report my progress -- hoping for another two pound drop!

Master Cleanse/Lemonade Diet - Day 1

The first step in this cleanse is to drink a cup of laxative tea at bed time, the night before you plan to start. I am using Super Dieter's Tea and have read that Smooth Move Tea is also good. Regardless, you need a tea that is made of Senna Leaves which acts as an intestinal stimulant. I drank the tea last night while watching an episode of MI-5 with The Hubster, and found the taste to be actually quite pleasant.

After taking my son to school this morning, I mixed my salt water flush which is two teaspoons of uniodized sea salt mixed with a full quart (4 cups) of warm water. You have to chug this warm salt brew all at once to make it work properly. I can tell this is going to be -- by far -- my least favorite part of the program.

After a couple of failed starts to this portion of the plan I can give you a couple of tips for improving the experience. When you prepare the salt flush, make it VERY warm. Lukewarm is NASTY. Next, try to think of the salt water as a warm salty broth (minus the good brothy taste), and chug it through a straw. The straw kept me from swallowing air and it deposited the flood of warm water toward the back of my throat where I didn't notice the taste as much. I also counted the gulps which made them go faster.

The salt water is supposed to pass through your system between 30 and 60 minutes later, so when nothing happened an hour and a half later I said aloud, "Great, after all that this isn't going to work!" Wrong-o. It worked about 30 seconds later.

Another VERY IMPORTANT tip: If you feel like you need to pass gas at any point between the time you drink the salt water flush and the time you are certain it is working -- DON'T!! Make your way immediately to the bathroom and plan to spend at least 15 minutes waiting for the tsunami to pass.

All I have to say about this part is Drano ought to get in on this salt water flush thing. It's fast, painless, and 4-5 flushes later, the pipes are c-l-e-a-r and the process is over.

I'm super hungry now, but so far I feel pretty good. I just had my first glass of the lemon drink and I actually really like the taste. It reminds me of a spicy margarita, minus the tequila.

Immediately after starting the program this morning, I went into panic mode and really, really wanted to eat something. Recognizing the shrill and annoying inner voice of my own personal self-saboteur trying to ruin my chances of succeeding at this, I immediately told the little biotch to sit down and shut up, because this is happening -- like it or not. I expect many animated conversations with her throughout this process. (No, I'm not crazy... well, maybe a little.)

I weighed and measured this morning and will post my photos, weight and measurements throughout this ten day process.

8:00 p.m.

Okay... so... the day went okay although I'm ready to sprinkle some teriyaki sauce on this keyboard and eat it right now... mid-word. Do you think it'd go well with the powder from my printer toner cartridge and some shredded paper? I really would eat just about anything right now, but I think I'll give myself a break and drink some laxative tea --- mmmmmm.... laxative tea.... (say it like Homer Simpson) --- go to bed early tonight, catch some extra Zs and expedite the end to Day 1 of Operation Master Cleanse.

In addition to not enjoying drinking the salt water flush, I would have to say that one of the hardest parts of all of this is going to be all the cooking for and feeding of the rest of my family. There are lots of meals made, snacks slung, and lunches packed around here. I made my three sons and husband some Orange Chicken and white rice tonight for dinner and it smelled so good it was all I could do not to snatch up the pan from the gas cooktop, lock myself in the pantry and eat it with my hands like a cavewoman. I also had a long staring match with a bowl of Cheez-Its my six year old was eating as his after school snack today.

The cravings have kicked in and I'm having a full scale war against constant thoughts of spicy chicken teriyaki and those animal cookies with pink and white frosting and sprinkles... WTF???!!! I haven't had those since I was a kid, yet all I can think about are those pastel colored little animal shaped crack rocks!

Pray for me...

The Diva

"The Lemonade Diet" - Getting Ready

In preparation for starting "The Lemonade Diet", I purchased and read the book "The Master Cleanser" by Stanley Burroughs. This book has been around since 1941 and this method of "whole body detox" has been used for weight loss and colon cleansing since that time. I also went out and purchased the ingredients I will need for the three main elements of the cleanse: The lemon drink, the laxative tea and the daily salt water flush.

During the cleanse, the detoxing person consumes no solid food. I have to admit, the first time I read this I thought "WHAT???!!! I'll DIE!!!" But after reading the book, it makes a lot of sense. IF you are considering embarking upon this plan - read the book. You get all the calories, electrolytes and minerals you need from the components of the drink. In fact, many people report that after they finish the symptoms of "detox" (headache, lethargy, odd cravings) during the first 2-3 days, they get a huge surge of energy and feel really good for the remainder of the haul.

I'll have to admit, I'm a bit sceptical of those reports, but we'll soon see, won't we?

The lemon drink recipe is as follows:

2 tablespoons FRESH squeezed lemon or lime juice (approx. 1/2 lemon)
2 tablespoons genuine organic maple syrup, Grade B (the darker the better)*
1/10 teaspoon (a small pinch!) cayenne pepper, gradually increase (the more BTUs the better)
300 - 500 ccm (10-14 oz) pure water

Each night, you drink a laxative tea before bedtime, and upon rising in the morning, you drink 40 ounces of warm uniodized sea salt water for a top-down internal enema, followed by starting in on the lemon drink for the day. You can drink as much lemon drink as you want, but no less than 64 ounces. The lemon drink is good. I just tried some... it tastes like a spicy margarita, without the tequila kick. Not bad.

So, not only is this "diet" supposed to make you lose a lot of weight quickly, it cleanses your body, your tissues, and your internal organs. I've thoroughly researched this plan and feel ready to give it a go. I have also read a multitude of stories from people who claim that following this plan has cured them of various illnesses and chronic diseases.

The book recommends that this plan be followed for at least 10 days, and can be used up to 40 consecutive days before taking a break. It also recommends following up with implementation of The Raw Foods Diet. Following the 10 days, solid food must be reintroduced into the system in a particular way, which I will outline later on in my commentary.

So, join me every day and I'll fill you in on my progress in graphic detail. I'll be the guinea pig sacrificing herself for the future health of all lapsed divas. I'll post before and after photos and answer any questions you care to submit.

Please note:****I AM NOT RECOMMENDING THAT YOU FOLLOW THIS PLAN. ANY DIET OR EXERCISE REGIMINE SHOULD BE AUTHORIZED BY A PHYSICIAN, AND PEOPLE UNDERTAKING A WEIGHT LOSS PROGRAM SHOULD DO SO WITH CAUTION****

Wish me luck...

The Diva

Maxi Pad Letter From A Diva in Texas

Dear Mr. Thatcher,

I have been a loyal user of your Always Maxi Pads for over 20 years and I appreciate many of their features. Why, without the Leak GuardCore(tm) or Dri-Weave(tm)absorbency, I'd probably never go horseback riding or salsa dancing, and I'd certainly steer clear of running up and down the beach in tight, white shorts. But my favourite feature has to be your revolutionary Flexi-Wings. Kudos on being the only company smart enough to realize how crucial it is that maxi pads be aerodynamic. I can't tell you how safe and secure I feel each month knowing there's a little F-16 in my pants.

Have you ever had a period, Mr. Thatcher? Ever suffered from 'the curse'? I'm guessing you haven't.

Well, my 'time of the month' is starting right now. As I type, I can already feel hormonal forces violently surging through my body. Just a few minutes from now, my body will adjust and I'll be transformed into what my husband likes to call 'an inbred hillbilly with knife skills.'

As Brand Manager in the Feminine-hygiene Division, you've no doubt seen quite a bit of research on what exactly happens during your customers' monthly visits from 'Aunt Flo'. Therefore, you must know about the bloating, puffiness, and cramping we endure, and about our intense mood swings, crying, and out-of-control behavior. You surely realize it's a tough time for most women.

The point is, sir, you of all people must realize that America is just crawling with homicidal maniacs in Capri pants... Which brings me to the reason for my letter.

Last month, while in the throes of cramping so painful I wanted to reach inside my body and yank out my uterus, I opened an Always maxi-pad, and there, printed on the adhesive backing, were these words: 'Have a Happy Period.'

Are you flipping kidding me? Does any part of your tiny middle-manager brain really think happiness - actual smiling, laughing happiness is possible during a period? Did anything mentioned above sound the least bit pleasurable? Well, did it, James? FYI, unless you're some kind of sick S&M freak girl, there will never be anything 'happy' about a day in which you have to jack yourself up on Motrin and Kahlua and lock yourself in your house just so you don't march down to the local Kmart armed with a hunting rifle and a sketchy plan to end your life in a blaze of glory.

For the love of God, if you just have to slap a moronic message on a maxi pad, wouldn't it make more sense to say something that's actually pertinent, like 'Put Down the Hammer'?

Sir, please inform your Accounting Department that, effective immediately, there will be an $8 drop in monthly profits, because I have chosen to take my maxi-pad business elsewhere. And though I will certainly miss your Flex-Wings, I will not for one minute miss your brand of condescending bullshit. And that's a promise I will keep.

Always.

Wendi Aarons Austin, TX

Carb Cravings

Let's talk about carbs for a minute...

I'm convinced that high glycemic carbs are a cleverly disguised form of crack.

You know what I'm talking about - white bread, mashed potatoes, rice, candy, bagels, potato chips, cold cereal, etc. How many diets have been derailed by a headfirst dive into a cookie jar or the two bites of mashed potatoes that turned into a two hour (or two week) carboholic orgy?

I know members of Overeaters Anonymous who avoid high glycemic carbs at all cost because even dipping a toe into the chip bowl is a surefire way to fall off the wagon, go into a dieting tailspin and gain back their weight while horfing down food inside the haze of the resulting nuclear fallout.

I also know plenty of career yo-yo dieters who have behavior that mimics the average substance abuser.

A drug addict will consume their drug of choice, crave that drug, reuse, crave, reuse, experience negative consequences resulting from the consumption of the drug, realize there is a problem, vow to change, reuse, crave, reuse, vow to change, realize they keep saying they are going to change, reuse, feel guilty, stat using in secret, feel like they are out of control, wonder why they can't stop using, reuse even more, experience more negative consequences, vow to change, reuse, and then finally change their behavior. Shortly thereafter that a little voice starts to pick at them to use the drug again. "It isn't so bad." "Just a little." "You can control yourself now." They taste the drug and the little voice says, "You slipped, it's okay, you're only human, you may as well just do it up big now and start over tomorrow." They do the same thing the following day... and the cycle continues.

Replace the word "drug" with the word "food" - and tell me...does it sound familiar?

Sure, dieting and exercise take willpower in today's world - but we're talking about something altogether different here. Those high glycemic carbs just "do something" to the chemistry of the bodies of some people that alters behavior, makes them crave more of the same and make them pack on the pounds - the consequences. Hence, the low carb diet craze that has become HUGE - because low carb diets WORK.

It's scientifically proven that high glycemic carbs elevate insulin levels and stimulate fat storage. It is also scientifically proven that high glycemic carbs produce an inflammatory chain reaction in the body that in especially carb sensitive people can lead to all sorts of unsavory health problems, including depression, body aches, lethargy, inflammation of the tissue and joints, diabetes, heart disease, autoimmune disease, etc. A recipe for disaster.

Are you a carbohydrate addict and a yo-yo dieter? (Does your weight fluctuate up and down constantly? Do you continually fall off the proverbial diet wagon only to gin back what you just lost? Do you crave high glycemic carbs? Do you get bad headaches when you stop eating them?)

Go on a program like The Zone, or South Beach, or something similar where you are cutting out those insulin exploding foods and replacing them with carbs your body can handle like fruits, veggies, whole grains. If you're anything like me, once you get a couple weeks out you will notice that you feel much more energetic, happier, healthier and just plain BETTER. Learn to treat your food like what it is - nourishment.

I only bring this up today because I am having one of those days when I want some instant mashed potatoes, some instant rice or some pringles like I want air to breathe! I have found myself cruising the pantry several times today - it's calling to me like a syringe calls to a heroin addict, and I've never been more convinced that I need to treat high glycemic food like the poison it is if I am going to lose weight, get healthy and regain my fierceness!

After all, as the once great Whitney Houston said, "Crack is whack!"

Someone come weld my pantry(crack house)shut.

Pass the low fat protein and greens,
The Diva

(Take my survey at the bottom of the page!)

The Uniform of the Non-Diva...

I've been wearing the same dowdy, worn out uniform for a couple of years now, and I think it has substantially contributed to my feelings of unfabulousness. You know the one. Yes you do. I know you know all about it because you probably own the same one or some version of it.

"The Uniform" consists of the clothing that currently fits (probably a few sizes larger than you (ahem!)wish you were), it feels comfortable to wear and it can easily hide all evidence of a headfirst dive into a tall stack of buttermilk pancakes... you know, the old reliables that aren't particularly attractive but you just can't stop yourself from wearing them. Sound familiar?

I'm stuck in an unfashionable rut. I have 3-4 favorite outfits - all outdated, threadbare, and just downright overworn. What makes this especially sad, is I have an entire walk-in closet of clothes that "almost" fit.

I justify wearing the dowdy rags by telling myself I don't really go anywhere, no one cares if I wear the same things... and I lie to myself that no one notices anyway.

Believe me, nothing says sexy like those "slimming" black slacks you like to wear with stretched out knees and a sagging butt that could walk themselves to the nearest wastebasket. Believe me, EVERYONE notices the sweatpants with the faded ass from the nightly sofa surfing that inexplicably never find their way to the laundry hamper and have a spot of white paint on the thigh from the project you did five years ago. And nothing says I-have-self-esteem-issues like the men's oversized sweatjacket you wear over the top of everything, zipped to the neck with worn elbows.

I've even received money from well-meaning relatives for Chrismases and Birthdays the last few years to "shop for something you need" -- their way of saying "BUY SOME DECENT CLOTHES BAGLADY!" or "If I see that faded t-shirt one more time I'm burning it myself!"

In case you're still pretending you don't know what I'm talking about...



Does this look familiar? Have you seen something similar on someone you know... maybe, intimately?... maybe you???!

In the spirit of rediscovering my inner fierceness I am throwing away, burning up, donating to charity, or otherwise getting rid of my middle-aged baglady uniform and slowly replacing it with clothes I can feel proud to wear on my figure that is currently in the process of getting more trim and toned by the week... clothing I can actually feel like a woman wearing, instead of being mistaken for the butch mayor of a small town called Dowdy in the State of Soccer Momville.

Comment, ladies, comment if you dare... I want to hear all about your worst "uniform (s)" and if you are willing to follow my lead and rid your closets of all of the rags that camouflage your fabulousness.

Out with the old, in with the new...
The Diva

(See my before photos and take the survey at the bottom of the page!)

The Invasion of the Granny Panties!

After my shower this morning I happily sauntered to my dresser and opened my "intimates" drawer only to discover to my horror that while The Diva in me has been away, the drawer in question has been unceremoniously taken over by... wait for it... can you guess?? ...wait for it... (cue the Friday the 13th music) GRANNY PANTIES!!

It seems these evil things have been killing, maiming, consuming and/or otherwise raping and pillaging my other undergarments right into extinction.

After some intense hand to hand combat, I was able to fight them off and rescue my final pair of black bikini underwear which I immediately donned under my cute new jeans and sweater combo before I fled the war theater to the armory in search of the combat gear needed to fend off this unfortunate overtaking of Diva territory by these evil invaders.

I ran up and down the aisles of the armory looking for bear-sized traps, RPGs, grenades, punji sticks, landmines... anything that would assist me in the horrible ensuing skirmish awaiting my return to enemy territory.

I have drawn up my battle plan and am hiding behind the door of my office with my combat gear readying my courage to return to the war theater of my walk-in closet. I have written my will and attached it to a love letter to my husband and children in the event of my unfortunate demise.

I will deploy to the volatility of my underwear drawer and face the enemy occupiers with an RPG and rocket launcher, a long stick(for removal of the carcasses), a brown paper grocery bag (for interment of said carcasses), a Bic lighter (for cremation of said carcasses), and some reinforcements consisting of 8 fashionable replacement soldiers who will hopefully survive the battle with me and supply the area with the requisite 4 Cs of coverage, comfort, cute factor, colorfulness, and also add a dash of femininity.

Wish me luck!

If I'm not back tomorrow... call the U.S. Embassy.

The Diva