Ca-ca at the Checkout

I hate, loathe, despise, abhor, and detest celebrity rag mags!

And for some reason, these ca-ca mags prominently pollute the checkout magazine stands at all the supermarkets in my city. Yeah, nothing like some visual manure to take my mind off the rising cost of eating well.

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Are You Beauty Stupid?

I want to share a point of view with you. But I need you to close your mind’s eye and empty it, if you can, of your prejudices and your perceived “preferences,” and read carefully what follows.

First, forget all that nonsense that “beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” While there may be a mustard seed of truth in those dull, uninspiring, shopworn words, it isn’t relevant, nor does it negate in any way, what I am about to say.

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Beautiful, Successful, Rich, Undressed

silhouette of erotic woman

Dear Reader!

Am I cuckoo? Because I am feeling cuckoo and more than a tad bit nauseated too!

Why is that Food Network chef—you know, the woman everyone thinks is so beautiful—wearing a very body conscious, white dress and making like “sexy” as she lies in a pool of marinara sauce?!


Why is a famous, really famous, Academy Award-winning actress known for her very pouty lips wearing nothing but that pout and a naughty sliver of silk?!

Can it get any worse?!

Why is Food Network’s Ms. EVOO wearing nothing but a bra, a tiny red and white gingham apron with pink bows, and red heels as she removes the Thanksgiving turkey from the oven? And why is she up on the white tiled kitchen counter in hot pants—yes, hot pants—all sudsy and giggly?

Alright, it officially just got excruciatingly worse!

Why is there a life-size poster of a rap diva with all three assets on display: back arched and arse out, boobs in your face, and her painted, pouty lips suggestively parted?!

This at my local mall: Kids, impressionable kids, go to the mall.

Okay, I am about to upchuck my breakfast, second breakfast, and lunch, so I will stop here.

The descriptions above are just a few of the unfortunate, au courant images from the covers and/or pages of popular men’s magazines.

A truly powerful woman has nothing to prove and no desire or need to undress herself in public simply for random male viewing pleasure.

Seriously, these days, my local magazine stand resembles a soft porn site. It seems like magazine covers are in need of a rating system like movies, R(estricted) or NC-17 (Adults Only).

Unsurprisingly enough, I have NEVER seen any handsome, successful, rich man featured on these same magazines naked, with an open crotch, with suggestively parted lips, or with the infamous arched back and arse shot. And they certainly do not slosh in food–that would be ridiculous, right?!

For example, Channing — the bod — Tatum graced one of the guilty men’s magazines wearing (1) a pair of long pants, (2) a shirt, (3) a jacket, and, get this: (4) a damn vest too.

So, why are women who are considered beautiful and successful and rich willingly getting undressed for these types of photo ops?


Is it vanity? Is it insecurity? Some deluded sense of power?

Where is the power in the centuries old male game of female objectification?

How is a woman powerful who needs to be always seen as indiscriminately fuckable?

Where is the power in looking like a submissive, fuckable, blow up doll?

What does it say about a woman whose dignity and sensual mystery is for sale, especially when she doesn’t even need the money or the exposure?

Yes, these women may be getting paid, but they are not in control.

Too many women have drank the spiked Kool-aid that they can express themselves in any way they damn well please, but the truth is: A truly powerful woman has nothing to prove and no desire or need to undress herself in public simply for random male viewing pleasure.

On the other hand, an insecure woman searching for daddy’s or any man’s approval, well, that another story…

Call to action: Am I cuckoo? Are you feeling cuckoo too?

Below are links to related articles written by other people that make very good sense:

Mom’s Epic Open Letter to Daughter
A Daddy’s Letter to His Little Girl
Words from a Father to His Daughter from the Makeup Aisle

Choose to Love Better

two people, clasped hands

Dear Reader!

What a hateful week it has been! At times I felt buried under a tonnage of stress: taking care of my mum; giving her shots twice a day (yuck!); witnessing her pain and despondency; dealing with my own health concerns; coping with my fears of the future, of failure, and of impotence; and, sadly, having to observe emotional callousness, too close to home and out in the world.

It has been arduous.

It has been maddening.

It has been heartbreaking.

It has been enough to make this woman almost take to the streets and start S-C-R-E-A-M-I-N-G!

The constancy of real love is our salvation.

When we are at our lowest, we all need to know that those who profess to love us, consider our lives NOT separate from them, but tightly intertwined—and that we are an actively included in their daily circle of concern and love for their sake, as well as our own.

Real love is never too busy and does not make excuses and is not callous. Real love gets up and shows up regardless and especially when it is inconvenient. And its constancy is our salvation.

Call to action: Let us choose to love better.

Pray, Pray, Pray

man sitting in a church

Dear Reader!

This weekend my mum and I have been caught up in the maelstrom that passes for “health”care in this country.



Poor communications of critical information…

Waiting, waiting, waiting…

Inadequate to downright poor quality of care…

God complexes…


Did I mention the waiting, waiting waiting—for just a measly few minutes of a doctor’s time?!

Call to action: Starting now, do every thing and any thing you can to maintain a high quality of health so that you can stay the he!! out of the way of the “health”care system! It’s no guarantee, but do it!

More Than “Breath and Britches”

Honey, every woman deserves a man who is more than "breath and britches."

Dear Reader!

As I mentioned in my last post, Michael came to see me last weekend. Yeah! It was fun and too short.

And since he was coming, I wanted to look my best, of course, so on the Thursday before his arrival I went to the barbershop to get my hair cut so that I would look fresh and feel pretty.

And this is the absurd exchange that ensued from the moment I hit the door:

CB, the barber: Don’t you return phone calls?

[Picture me with a stupefying look on my face.]

Me: You have the nerve to say that to me! On three separate occasions I have called you and/or texted you to find out when you would be in the shop and I have yet to receive a call or a text back! Not only will I not be returning your calls, I will not ever call or text you again! I am not a chump!

CB: Well, I was calling to ask you to dinner.

Me: What?! You got bored and had no one else to call, so you decided to pick up the phone and call me!

CB: Why can’t you just let the past go?

Me: I am NOT a chump!

CB:  You are judging me based on what others have done.

Me: No. I am judging you based on your past and present bad behavior and indifference. Were you raised in a barn?!

CB: Well, can’t you just learn to accept idiosyncrasies?

[What an arseclown!]

Me: No! (I am actually thinking that would be a hell, hell no!) This is not an idiosyncrasy. This is rudeness and indifference. I place a very high, high value on myself and I will not tolerate this!

Ladies, too many of us are settling for just “breath and britches.”

CB: Well, what do you want?

[Seriously! Can he really be asking this silly question?!]

Me: Actually, I am not looking for anything. And I have never led you to believe otherwise. What we have and have always had is a professional [I should have said unprofessional] relationship. But if I were looking, I am certainly not interested in a man who is a lazy, rude, trifling arseclown who does not return phone calls! I would much rather be reading a book! I want so much more than “breath and britches!”

[As if…]

And then he uttered a simple string of sad and confounding words…

CB: Truth is, you scare me.

Me: Really?! Why?

CB: You’re a lady. I’ve never met a woman like you… (He’s 50!)


Call-to-action: Ladies, are you settling for just “breath and britches?” Guys, what do you think about this ridiculous exchange? Share your thoughts in the comment section below.

Check out my other related posts: Yes, I Am Queen of Sheba and Priced Above Rubies.