OK, enough about my legs, or leg.
I'm not allowed to reproduce my PowderRoomGraffiti piece, but I can send you over there for a good read.
It's all about this summer's fashion must-have - the dreaded Jumpsuit! If I see any one of you in a jumpsuit I will assume you haven't read my fashion advice.
.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Cankle Awareness Month
Just when I'm about to throw in the towel and declare myself totally out of blogging material, along comes a gift. This times it's in the form of Gold's Gym, a chain of fitness centers/centres or gyms here in the States. Golds has declared July "Cankle Awareness Month".
Oh sorry, I'm ahead of myself - time for some definitions. Apparently a cankle, also known as "peasant ankle", refers to the seamless blend of calf and ankle - and that's not a good thing.
To quote ver batim:
“Cankles are the fastest growing ‘aesthetic affliction’ in the United States … even ahead of other bathing suit killers like Muffin Tops, Saddle Bags and Moobs,” says Gold’s new cankle Web site www.saynotocankles.com. “Millions of people across the country are currently affected by Cankles and millions more are ‘at risk.’ In fact, it is estimated that if current trends continue, by the year 2012 Cankles will surpass Love Handles as the number one aesthetic affliction in the world.”
Hmmm. I'm not sure I'd go as far as calling them the "number one aesthetic affliction", given how easy it is to cover them up. Even in the height of summer, if you're unhappy with the shape of your lower leg, you can still wear loose lightweight fabrics, much as we upper-arm challenged individuals can wear loose fitting sleeves. Sorry - I'm starting to sound like Trinny and Suze, but they've been right about these things for years now. Just look at what Gold's is suggesting as wardrobe options for the cankled among us:
- Look for pants in soft fabrics like cotton or poly blends that drape loosely around the ankle. Skinny jeans, which bunch at the ankle, are a no-no.
- Choose cropped or slightly tapered pants that cuff just past the fullest part of the ankle. These will draw the eye to the thinnest part of the ankle. (if anyone's read the What Not to Wear books, T&S would damn you to hell for touching any kind of tapered pant.)
- Avoid shoes with ankle straps; these only make the ankle look bigger and the leg shorter. Opt instead for wedges and platform sandals that will create a long, lean silhouette. For fall, invest in dark-colored and tight-fitting boots.
As someone who inherited her father's disproportionately skinny ankles, I can't really relate to this problem. (Before anyone thinks I'm being smug here, I have about fifteen other dodgy body parts to contend with thank you.) If you don't believe me, here's the proof, but PUT YOUR SUNGLASSES ON NOW.
You were warned!
.
Oh sorry, I'm ahead of myself - time for some definitions. Apparently a cankle, also known as "peasant ankle", refers to the seamless blend of calf and ankle - and that's not a good thing.
To quote ver batim:
“Cankles are the fastest growing ‘aesthetic affliction’ in the United States … even ahead of other bathing suit killers like Muffin Tops, Saddle Bags and Moobs,” says Gold’s new cankle Web site www.saynotocankles.com. “Millions of people across the country are currently affected by Cankles and millions more are ‘at risk.’ In fact, it is estimated that if current trends continue, by the year 2012 Cankles will surpass Love Handles as the number one aesthetic affliction in the world.”
Hmmm. I'm not sure I'd go as far as calling them the "number one aesthetic affliction", given how easy it is to cover them up. Even in the height of summer, if you're unhappy with the shape of your lower leg, you can still wear loose lightweight fabrics, much as we upper-arm challenged individuals can wear loose fitting sleeves. Sorry - I'm starting to sound like Trinny and Suze, but they've been right about these things for years now. Just look at what Gold's is suggesting as wardrobe options for the cankled among us:
- Look for pants in soft fabrics like cotton or poly blends that drape loosely around the ankle. Skinny jeans, which bunch at the ankle, are a no-no.
- Choose cropped or slightly tapered pants that cuff just past the fullest part of the ankle. These will draw the eye to the thinnest part of the ankle. (if anyone's read the What Not to Wear books, T&S would damn you to hell for touching any kind of tapered pant.)
- Avoid shoes with ankle straps; these only make the ankle look bigger and the leg shorter. Opt instead for wedges and platform sandals that will create a long, lean silhouette. For fall, invest in dark-colored and tight-fitting boots.
As someone who inherited her father's disproportionately skinny ankles, I can't really relate to this problem. (Before anyone thinks I'm being smug here, I have about fifteen other dodgy body parts to contend with thank you.) If you don't believe me, here's the proof, but PUT YOUR SUNGLASSES ON NOW.
You were warned!
.
Friday, July 3, 2009
A bit of a moan
Before I go any further, I know I have nothing to complain about really. But sometimes I just don't want to get out of bed. I mean, would you if your entire day consisted of chasing people up and fighting fires. Here's what I had to look forward to this morning:
- my cleaner is coming (see, I told you I had nothing to complain about really). She cleans but she doesn't put anything away, which means I need about two hours beforehand to race around like a whirling dervish stuffing things in drawers etc. I might as well just clean while I go along.
- call Hornby USA for the third time to see if they can do something about the fantastic Scalextric Top Gear track (complete with two Stigs). First the red Porsche died after about two hours. They were very nice about that which makes me think that the entire batch of red Porsches was dodgy. Two weeks later we got a nice new orange car. Less than two hours of playing (on two different days) Little Guy calmly informs me that there's smoke pouring from one of the controllers. Great. That was over a week ago and no one has called me back.
- chase up Enrique, the nice man who put the shelf up again in the coat cupboard (the one that came down on my head) and who made me an iron (locking) gate for the back so that the world and his wife didn't feel entitled to come into our yard/garden to see if the BBQ was worth nicking. (Too heavy). He's supposed to be patching up all the dings in the wall (mainly done by the Ball & Chain carrying things at odd angles) and repainting almost every wall downstairs. It's 6 years since it was all done, and I have worn the semi-gloss thin with all the scrubbing. Anyway, I spent a good deal of time yesterday finding the exact colours I had used (I'm not going through the agony of choosing a new colour palette) and he didn't show up "sometime after 5.30pm" as promised.
- ring the ceiling fan people for the third time. It is hotter than Hades over here, my bedroom is on the third floor and well, heat rises if you'll remember. We do have air-conditioning but it peters out a bit the higher up the house you go, so we do what many people in the US do, and supplement it with ceiling fans. Unfortunately ours is only going at one speed, and if I leave it on for more than ten minutes I'm afraid the roof will come off and end up on the Sears Tower! I'm sure they are inundated with ceiling fan emergencies as people all over the city remember their's is also malfunctioning, but they have that irritating message on their machine telling me that my call is very important to them. Apparently not!
- e-mail the Queenager's school to remind the person who enrolls them in different classes, that she hasn't been able to get on to the photography course for the past two years, really wants to do photo journalism at university, and might benefit from having something to put on her application form to show she'd actually covered it at school. (My tone will be deferential of course.)
- research the bus routes to the downtown photography school (where Queenager is taking a summer course to boost her resume/CV) and take Queenager for a trial run sometime today. If I sound like a helicopter parent, the bus system only runs horizontal and vertical meaning that you usually have to get off and change even if you're only going a couple of miles. I highly recommend trial runs when your grades are at stake.
- wheel the shiny new, blue recycling bin, that was dumped at the front of my house, down the street, round the corner and up the back alley. Stare at the lack of spaces for about ten minutes, then leave it right outside the garage door, meaning we will have to move it every time we come in and out. The fabulous City of Chicago, (that thinks it can run the 2016 Olympics) delivered these bins all over the city, but decided it couldn't possibly remove any black ones. If you don't have room for extra bins, you can call the City "hotline" (word used loosely) to have them removed. That will probably only take about three weeks, but hey - we need to create jobs here. The more departments and personnel involved, the better.
- take all the coats off the bed in the guest room and hang them back in the coat cupboard. Since we won't be wearing them till at least the end of September, I am very tempted to just leave them there and make our guests sleep on top of them.
- but first I must hang around to make sure my cleaner turns up, get the Little Guy off to his theatre camp, find (and iron) two golf shirts for the middle child's golf tournament, and check on an Amazon delivery that hasn't shown up.
A bit boring wouldn't you say? Perhaps I should look for some roses to smell.
.
- my cleaner is coming (see, I told you I had nothing to complain about really). She cleans but she doesn't put anything away, which means I need about two hours beforehand to race around like a whirling dervish stuffing things in drawers etc. I might as well just clean while I go along.
- call Hornby USA for the third time to see if they can do something about the fantastic Scalextric Top Gear track (complete with two Stigs). First the red Porsche died after about two hours. They were very nice about that which makes me think that the entire batch of red Porsches was dodgy. Two weeks later we got a nice new orange car. Less than two hours of playing (on two different days) Little Guy calmly informs me that there's smoke pouring from one of the controllers. Great. That was over a week ago and no one has called me back.
- chase up Enrique, the nice man who put the shelf up again in the coat cupboard (the one that came down on my head) and who made me an iron (locking) gate for the back so that the world and his wife didn't feel entitled to come into our yard/garden to see if the BBQ was worth nicking. (Too heavy). He's supposed to be patching up all the dings in the wall (mainly done by the Ball & Chain carrying things at odd angles) and repainting almost every wall downstairs. It's 6 years since it was all done, and I have worn the semi-gloss thin with all the scrubbing. Anyway, I spent a good deal of time yesterday finding the exact colours I had used (I'm not going through the agony of choosing a new colour palette) and he didn't show up "sometime after 5.30pm" as promised.
- ring the ceiling fan people for the third time. It is hotter than Hades over here, my bedroom is on the third floor and well, heat rises if you'll remember. We do have air-conditioning but it peters out a bit the higher up the house you go, so we do what many people in the US do, and supplement it with ceiling fans. Unfortunately ours is only going at one speed, and if I leave it on for more than ten minutes I'm afraid the roof will come off and end up on the Sears Tower! I'm sure they are inundated with ceiling fan emergencies as people all over the city remember their's is also malfunctioning, but they have that irritating message on their machine telling me that my call is very important to them. Apparently not!
- e-mail the Queenager's school to remind the person who enrolls them in different classes, that she hasn't been able to get on to the photography course for the past two years, really wants to do photo journalism at university, and might benefit from having something to put on her application form to show she'd actually covered it at school. (My tone will be deferential of course.)
- research the bus routes to the downtown photography school (where Queenager is taking a summer course to boost her resume/CV) and take Queenager for a trial run sometime today. If I sound like a helicopter parent, the bus system only runs horizontal and vertical meaning that you usually have to get off and change even if you're only going a couple of miles. I highly recommend trial runs when your grades are at stake.
- wheel the shiny new, blue recycling bin, that was dumped at the front of my house, down the street, round the corner and up the back alley. Stare at the lack of spaces for about ten minutes, then leave it right outside the garage door, meaning we will have to move it every time we come in and out. The fabulous City of Chicago, (that thinks it can run the 2016 Olympics) delivered these bins all over the city, but decided it couldn't possibly remove any black ones. If you don't have room for extra bins, you can call the City "hotline" (word used loosely) to have them removed. That will probably only take about three weeks, but hey - we need to create jobs here. The more departments and personnel involved, the better.
- take all the coats off the bed in the guest room and hang them back in the coat cupboard. Since we won't be wearing them till at least the end of September, I am very tempted to just leave them there and make our guests sleep on top of them.
- but first I must hang around to make sure my cleaner turns up, get the Little Guy off to his theatre camp, find (and iron) two golf shirts for the middle child's golf tournament, and check on an Amazon delivery that hasn't shown up.
A bit boring wouldn't you say? Perhaps I should look for some roses to smell.
.
Monday, June 29, 2009
The MJ Influence
Like many who were doing the night club scene in the 80's, I danced a lot to Michael Jackson's music. Other than that I can't say he really "influenced" me but he did have a very unexpected influence on one of my offpsring.
You've heard me talk of Mr. Minimal, my giant 13 year old son (almost 6'2", size 14 shoe etc. etc). Like my other two, he has a touch of the performer in him - the Ball & Chain says it's my genes, but he cannot be serious! Me - dramatic? The very thought! Mr. M and the Queenager (3 years older) had the entire performance of Riverdance down pat when they were little. Every time I sat down to rest my weary bones they sprang into action and wouldn't stop until the entire rendition was done!
I remember watching the Jackson 5 Reunion show years ago with them both, and when Michael did the "Beat It' song with all those West Side Story looking dancers, Mr. M leapt up and said he wanted to do that. I explained that they were all trained dancers, and was promptly instructed to sign him up for ballet. (The Queenager had been going for years so he knew the school and the drill.) My huge 7 year old did ballet for two years and didn't give a hoot that he was the only boy in class. He gallopped round like a baby elephant and giving the arm movements just a hint of a golf swing just for fun. When baseball finally proved too much of a clash with the ballet lessons, he sent a tearful letter to his teacher explaining his dilemna - then promptly signed up for tap for a couple of years.
Here he is (was) at that tender age, paying homage to Michael just before bed time :
There was never any danger/chance of him becoming a dancer but I like to think it gave him a broader outlook and turned him into the Renaissance man (as they say here) that he now is. He plays violin, (actually they switched him to viola because his hands are huge) and guitar, golf and baseball. Well-rounded I think you'd call it. Don't get me wrong, he will also sit in front of Xbox or You Tube all day if you let him, and he doesn't move unless he absolutely has to. This summer however, he's being the all-American boy on the baseball diamond.
You've heard me talk of Mr. Minimal, my giant 13 year old son (almost 6'2", size 14 shoe etc. etc). Like my other two, he has a touch of the performer in him - the Ball & Chain says it's my genes, but he cannot be serious! Me - dramatic? The very thought! Mr. M and the Queenager (3 years older) had the entire performance of Riverdance down pat when they were little. Every time I sat down to rest my weary bones they sprang into action and wouldn't stop until the entire rendition was done!
I remember watching the Jackson 5 Reunion show years ago with them both, and when Michael did the "Beat It' song with all those West Side Story looking dancers, Mr. M leapt up and said he wanted to do that. I explained that they were all trained dancers, and was promptly instructed to sign him up for ballet. (The Queenager had been going for years so he knew the school and the drill.) My huge 7 year old did ballet for two years and didn't give a hoot that he was the only boy in class. He gallopped round like a baby elephant and giving the arm movements just a hint of a golf swing just for fun. When baseball finally proved too much of a clash with the ballet lessons, he sent a tearful letter to his teacher explaining his dilemna - then promptly signed up for tap for a couple of years.
Here he is (was) at that tender age, paying homage to Michael just before bed time :
There was never any danger/chance of him becoming a dancer but I like to think it gave him a broader outlook and turned him into the Renaissance man (as they say here) that he now is. He plays violin, (actually they switched him to viola because his hands are huge) and guitar, golf and baseball. Well-rounded I think you'd call it. Don't get me wrong, he will also sit in front of Xbox or You Tube all day if you let him, and he doesn't move unless he absolutely has to. This summer however, he's being the all-American boy on the baseball diamond.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Stranger Danger
Potty and Frog have recently blogged about the predators who lurk around the Internet, and as a mother of teens who seem surgically connected to the computer, I must reiterate their message.
Anyone with children will probably recognise the conversation that took place in our house tho other night:
So who is it who's coming round?"
"Oh, just a couple of friends." (Said with casual indifference.)
"Who are they? Have I met them?"
S.. and G.. and no you haven't met them."
"Well, how did you meet them?"
"Erm, well I known S.. for ages."
"How come I've never heard of her before?"
"Dunno." (Even more casual tone.)
Pause.
"Hang on a minute. Where did you meet them?"
"Erm..."
"I hope it wasn't in a chat room or somewhere."
"Oh for Pete's sake." (Much rolling of eyeballs.)
"Well?....."
Pause.
"You met them on Facebook didn't you?"
"Not exactly".
"Oh, don't tell me, she's another one of your bloggy friends isn't she?"
"So? What's the problem?"
Isn't it annoying how teenagers can turn into busybody parents when they want to?
Anyway, yes, Brit Gal Sarah and the Hubster dropped by as part of their vacation in Chicago. Unfortunately for them, Chicago resembled a bit of a swampy jungle this week with temperatures in the 90's and very high humidity. It takes a bit of getting used to, and you learn where all the air-conditioned restaurants are.
It's a bit weird meeting people you've only "met" on the Internet. I did it last summer with a group of mostly lapsed northern bloggers, and Hadriana, who blogs when she's not running around being a Roman person and running her new bed and breakfast. On that occasion, I just had to walk into a lovely country pub and look around nervously for other women who were also sitting or standing, looking around nervously. We knew each other instantly even though not a photo had been exchanged. At least this time I had a bit of an idea what my virtual friends looked like, and the fact that they would be knocking on my front door helped.
So, we had a lovely evening sitting outside at the bar/restaurant you can see from my front door, as you can see. We're in disguise though - you never know who might be lurking on the Net.
Anyone with children will probably recognise the conversation that took place in our house tho other night:
So who is it who's coming round?"
"Oh, just a couple of friends." (Said with casual indifference.)
"Who are they? Have I met them?"
S.. and G.. and no you haven't met them."
"Well, how did you meet them?"
"Erm, well I known S.. for ages."
"How come I've never heard of her before?"
"Dunno." (Even more casual tone.)
Pause.
"Hang on a minute. Where did you meet them?"
"Erm..."
"I hope it wasn't in a chat room or somewhere."
"Oh for Pete's sake." (Much rolling of eyeballs.)
"Well?....."
Pause.
"You met them on Facebook didn't you?"
"Not exactly".
"Oh, don't tell me, she's another one of your bloggy friends isn't she?"
"So? What's the problem?"
Isn't it annoying how teenagers can turn into busybody parents when they want to?
Anyway, yes, Brit Gal Sarah and the Hubster dropped by as part of their vacation in Chicago. Unfortunately for them, Chicago resembled a bit of a swampy jungle this week with temperatures in the 90's and very high humidity. It takes a bit of getting used to, and you learn where all the air-conditioned restaurants are.
It's a bit weird meeting people you've only "met" on the Internet. I did it last summer with a group of mostly lapsed northern bloggers, and Hadriana, who blogs when she's not running around being a Roman person and running her new bed and breakfast. On that occasion, I just had to walk into a lovely country pub and look around nervously for other women who were also sitting or standing, looking around nervously. We knew each other instantly even though not a photo had been exchanged. At least this time I had a bit of an idea what my virtual friends looked like, and the fact that they would be knocking on my front door helped.
So, we had a lovely evening sitting outside at the bar/restaurant you can see from my front door, as you can see. We're in disguise though - you never know who might be lurking on the Net.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Straddling the fence
Fat, Frumpy and Fifty was bemoaning the fact that although she'd just joined British Mummy Bloggers, she felt a bit out of it because her kids are older. (Read her post, it's great.) When you're a mother to teenagers, the concerns of younger kids' mothers seem like a different world. Eg.:
-Don't leave them in the bath on their own (for too long)
-Cook on the back rings of your over top so they can't reach the pans
-Listen for the front door as they (mine) have a habit of running off to the neighbour's who then has to phone to check you know where they are.
-Don't forget to leave a note for and from the tooth fairy when the teeth fall out. Oh, and make sure you remove the tooth too.
You know how it goes. It's all rather sweet. Except for when they give up their naps and start doing really naughty things like covering themselves with the nappy/diaper cream, or emptying the polysterene balls from the bean bag into their underwear and pyjama drawer, in an effort to make you realise that they are no longer tired in the middle of the day.
Me - I'm straddling both worlds at the moment. With two teens and a 6 year old I often feel schizophrenic. One minute I'm warning someone that they'd better not go further than the park and have to be in by 10.30pm, and the next I'm trying to come up with the answer to "Why does the Tooth Fairy need all those teeth?" (She's building a white castle out of them BTW. He doesn't seem to think this at all gross!)
The older two have been warned on pain of death and other nasty consequnces that they are not to "out" the Tooth Fairy, and must not make quotation marks in the air when referring to "Santa". Actually, for the most part they have gone along with things quite nicely although they can be heard from time to time telling him to get out of their rooms, or stop annoying them, otherwise they might have to have a word with Santa. Since he's usually the one making the trouble, I think that's all well and good.
The funniest thing however, is that it takes me about two minutes tops to put Little Guy to bed. When he's tired, he's tired. The other two - oh please. First of all I now have to wait up for them to go to bed. (I would leave them to it, but the fridge door would probably be left open, or even the front door.) Once they're up in their rooms the music goes on, which prompts much hissing from me that their little brother is asleep and I would like him to remain that way. Then there's the thumping around for half an hour before they actually climb into their beds. (What on earth do teenagers do that requires them to walk the length of the Amazon back and forth across their rooms?) Then, just when I think it's safe to try to get some sleep, one of them decides they need something from the kitchen (a long way down) and starts sneaking around the house, making me think we're all about to be murdered in our beds.
Yes, all you mothers of little ones - it's all to come. Mwah-ha-ha!
-Don't leave them in the bath on their own (for too long)
-Cook on the back rings of your over top so they can't reach the pans
-Listen for the front door as they (mine) have a habit of running off to the neighbour's who then has to phone to check you know where they are.
-Don't forget to leave a note for and from the tooth fairy when the teeth fall out. Oh, and make sure you remove the tooth too.
You know how it goes. It's all rather sweet. Except for when they give up their naps and start doing really naughty things like covering themselves with the nappy/diaper cream, or emptying the polysterene balls from the bean bag into their underwear and pyjama drawer, in an effort to make you realise that they are no longer tired in the middle of the day.
Me - I'm straddling both worlds at the moment. With two teens and a 6 year old I often feel schizophrenic. One minute I'm warning someone that they'd better not go further than the park and have to be in by 10.30pm, and the next I'm trying to come up with the answer to "Why does the Tooth Fairy need all those teeth?" (She's building a white castle out of them BTW. He doesn't seem to think this at all gross!)
The older two have been warned on pain of death and other nasty consequnces that they are not to "out" the Tooth Fairy, and must not make quotation marks in the air when referring to "Santa". Actually, for the most part they have gone along with things quite nicely although they can be heard from time to time telling him to get out of their rooms, or stop annoying them, otherwise they might have to have a word with Santa. Since he's usually the one making the trouble, I think that's all well and good.
The funniest thing however, is that it takes me about two minutes tops to put Little Guy to bed. When he's tired, he's tired. The other two - oh please. First of all I now have to wait up for them to go to bed. (I would leave them to it, but the fridge door would probably be left open, or even the front door.) Once they're up in their rooms the music goes on, which prompts much hissing from me that their little brother is asleep and I would like him to remain that way. Then there's the thumping around for half an hour before they actually climb into their beds. (What on earth do teenagers do that requires them to walk the length of the Amazon back and forth across their rooms?) Then, just when I think it's safe to try to get some sleep, one of them decides they need something from the kitchen (a long way down) and starts sneaking around the house, making me think we're all about to be murdered in our beds.
Yes, all you mothers of little ones - it's all to come. Mwah-ha-ha!
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Urban Cougar of the Month
OK, so you know I wouldn't be able to resist a few lines on Jackie, the Urban Cougar of the Month. Here's an excerpt (with commentary of course) from her Interview:
You say you feel like you're just reaching your prime. What does that mean to you?
When I was in my thirties, I thought my bikini days were over! Now, here I am in my fifties and I can wear a bikini and blow away the majority of girls in their twenties.
You bet you can baby - we don't see many o' them jugs on a woman at any age. Usually they obey the laws of gravity.
At 52, instead of being invisible, I am in the top 1 percent of my age group, and I get noticed wherever I go! This is fun, and was worth the wait!!
Wait - at 52 you're in the top 1% of your age group!? For what!? IQ? Income? Philanthropic deeds? Even if you do mean fake boobie size - how on earth do you know? As far as I remember, there hasn't yet been a Cougar Fake Boob census.
How do you think perceptions of women over 50 have changed?
People like Susan Lucci (who is in her sixties) and Sophia Loren (who is in her seventies) have completely changed the whole concept of being in your fifties.
What - wasn't she asked about women in their 50's? Whatever!
But then, maybe it's the common denominator - the Italian thing! I am half Sicilian, and I must admit, good genes are part of my good fortune!
Oh - the "good genes" line. Very convincing. And obviously you're half ironing board; you are a very thin woman, in the same vein as Pamela Anderson, with big boobs stuck on the front.
Do you feel more empowered now than before? To be sexy, ambitious, to live more fully?
Most definitely! Why? Because I am getting to the point where I just don't care about the opinions of people who don't matter!
Ah - there it is - she doesn't care about the "people who don't matter" - truly a mature mind.
When you're out, do you notice young men checking you out all the time? How does that make you feel?
Yes, of course I do. But not as much as I notice other women checking me out. Any attractive woman knows what I mean.
Yes, they're wondering how much you paid for them, and if they're going to stand the test of time.
I find it funny. Any time I enter a room, there is always a woman who thought she was the hottest one in there. Then I walk in, most often at least 20 years older than her, and she has to check me out - wondering how old I must be - checking to see if my breasts are bigger than hers, etc. At my age I can laugh at this. It's actually entertainment for me and for the person on my arm when I walk into the room.
And believe you me, it's pure entertainment for the rest of the room when they see you teeter in, on the arm of the red hot (sexually confused) 20 year old. Love is blind, as they say.
You mentioned you're a workout fanatic. What do you do to stay so sexy?
Back when I was working out at home, I used to do 1000 crunches a day. Now I have a gym membership, and I alternate between lots of different machines, along with cardio. I'm not one of those people who loves working out - I just love the results! My favorite part of the workout is when I have my gym bag in my hand and I'm on my way out the door!
So erm, what were you saying about genes?
Are there other things you do to stay hot and young at heart?
When you're tiny like I am,
Did she just say that? Give me a break - next it'll be "Don't hate me because I'm beautiful". Anyway, carry on love,
..it never really feels like you're getting old. I'll always be a "little girl." I will forever shop in the Junior Department. My mother is well into her eighties and still shops there!
So at 5'7" and an average size, I am destined never to feel young again? Might as well throw the towel in now.
Other than that, I highly recommend lots of good, red wine! One of my favorite wine sommeliers claims credit for my youthful appearance.
Crap - I'm drinking Pinot Grigio. No wonder it's not working.
Any words of wisdom for your fellow cougars out there?
Listen up girls.
Just remember to have fun. When all is said and done, you might very well end up with someone closer to your own age, but that doesn't mean that you can't learn something from the young men who will come into your life along the way.
Oy, oy, oy.
.
You say you feel like you're just reaching your prime. What does that mean to you?
When I was in my thirties, I thought my bikini days were over! Now, here I am in my fifties and I can wear a bikini and blow away the majority of girls in their twenties.
You bet you can baby - we don't see many o' them jugs on a woman at any age. Usually they obey the laws of gravity.
At 52, instead of being invisible, I am in the top 1 percent of my age group, and I get noticed wherever I go! This is fun, and was worth the wait!!
Wait - at 52 you're in the top 1% of your age group!? For what!? IQ? Income? Philanthropic deeds? Even if you do mean fake boobie size - how on earth do you know? As far as I remember, there hasn't yet been a Cougar Fake Boob census.
How do you think perceptions of women over 50 have changed?
People like Susan Lucci (who is in her sixties) and Sophia Loren (who is in her seventies) have completely changed the whole concept of being in your fifties.
What - wasn't she asked about women in their 50's? Whatever!
But then, maybe it's the common denominator - the Italian thing! I am half Sicilian, and I must admit, good genes are part of my good fortune!
Oh - the "good genes" line. Very convincing. And obviously you're half ironing board; you are a very thin woman, in the same vein as Pamela Anderson, with big boobs stuck on the front.
Do you feel more empowered now than before? To be sexy, ambitious, to live more fully?
Most definitely! Why? Because I am getting to the point where I just don't care about the opinions of people who don't matter!
Ah - there it is - she doesn't care about the "people who don't matter" - truly a mature mind.
When you're out, do you notice young men checking you out all the time? How does that make you feel?
Yes, of course I do. But not as much as I notice other women checking me out. Any attractive woman knows what I mean.
Yes, they're wondering how much you paid for them, and if they're going to stand the test of time.
I find it funny. Any time I enter a room, there is always a woman who thought she was the hottest one in there. Then I walk in, most often at least 20 years older than her, and she has to check me out - wondering how old I must be - checking to see if my breasts are bigger than hers, etc. At my age I can laugh at this. It's actually entertainment for me and for the person on my arm when I walk into the room.
And believe you me, it's pure entertainment for the rest of the room when they see you teeter in, on the arm of the red hot (sexually confused) 20 year old. Love is blind, as they say.
You mentioned you're a workout fanatic. What do you do to stay so sexy?
Back when I was working out at home, I used to do 1000 crunches a day. Now I have a gym membership, and I alternate between lots of different machines, along with cardio. I'm not one of those people who loves working out - I just love the results! My favorite part of the workout is when I have my gym bag in my hand and I'm on my way out the door!
So erm, what were you saying about genes?
Are there other things you do to stay hot and young at heart?
When you're tiny like I am,
Did she just say that? Give me a break - next it'll be "Don't hate me because I'm beautiful". Anyway, carry on love,
..it never really feels like you're getting old. I'll always be a "little girl." I will forever shop in the Junior Department. My mother is well into her eighties and still shops there!
So at 5'7" and an average size, I am destined never to feel young again? Might as well throw the towel in now.
Other than that, I highly recommend lots of good, red wine! One of my favorite wine sommeliers claims credit for my youthful appearance.
Crap - I'm drinking Pinot Grigio. No wonder it's not working.
Any words of wisdom for your fellow cougars out there?
Listen up girls.
Just remember to have fun. When all is said and done, you might very well end up with someone closer to your own age, but that doesn't mean that you can't learn something from the young men who will come into your life along the way.
Oy, oy, oy.
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