January 2012

The Shallow End

January 30, 2012

Before you read any further, I need you to take a look at this pic…

pretty red polka dot swimsuit with tulle for babies

Photo Courtesy of the Stanfield Family

Admit it. You’re in love with her. How could you not be? I don’t even like babies and I’m sort of obsessed with her sweet face. I actually giggle (yes, giggle) every time I peek at this photo. It makes me that happy. I can’t help but wonder if she has more clothes I’d like to borrow. I wish she could talk. I wonder if she has any idea how lucky she is (this little doll came from ridiculously good genes – her mom and dad are stupid hot). And…above all else, I want to take a bite out this child’s perfectly plump little thighs.

There is simply no denying…Piper is beyond beautiful. The kid has even got a cute name.

I only have one problem with this picture (and it is, in no way, Piper’s fault).

NOBODY thought this photo was anything but incomparably cute. Right?

IF this was a photo of me in the exact same attire – it would NOT have had the same effect on you.

My question is…why the @#$% not?

At what age did having (and flaunting) thighs as remarkable as Piper’s become less acceptable and/or amazing? I know I have them. You know I have them. So…when did I start insisting on covering them up? And when did the world stop accepting that my thighs and I might be able to give those polka dots a run for their money? Piper looks happy and healthy in tulle to me. And if there’s one thing I know for sure…she won’t be nearly as happy in Spanx (no disrespect to those slimming intimates).

I may change my mind tomorrow. But, tonight I am inspired by this picture of Piper. I’ve decided – if this bathing suit showed up on my front porch – I’d rock it. Of course, I’d only rock it in my size (I’d like to spare all of us from one intense camel toe). And I’d only rock it with (a lot of) vodka on the rocks, pumps and a spray tan…but I’d rock it.

I dare you to invite Piper and I to your next pool party.

We’re going to own the shallow end.

P.S. THANK YOU Ashley & Wyatt for letting me use a photo of your beautiful baby girl to lead into a self-deprecating blog post about my own thighs. And just to be clear, “stupid hot” is a compliment. I typically try to avoid your Facebook pics. You guys are just way too good looking. This photo was, obviously, unavoidable.


Natalie Would

January 23, 2012

Couple things to note before you dive in to this piece…

  1. I swear not all of my posts will be so estrogen driven. It’s purely coincidental that the last one was about labia and this one is about a really lame guy I used to date.
  2. I made sure Bob did not have any issues with this topic. I’m still testing Bob’s limits with re: to blog content. So far, he’s a saint.
  3. Out of the goodness of my heart, I actually contacted the fool that wrote me this letter (below) and asked him if he would mind if I skewered him on my blog for comedy’s sake. He said “put me to the fire.” Bottom line…he knows he makes for good content and he knows it’s all in good fun. Hopefully he’ll feel the same way after he sees the finished product. Hee Hee.
  4. I wrote this entire post with a grin on my face. It was sort of an evil grin, but a grin nonetheless. I just want to be clear – I am not bitter about this relationship. Anymore. This dude really was the worst boyfriend I have ever had but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t learn a few things along the way.
  5. I just created a new category on my blog called “The Ex Files.” I felt it was necessary after I was finished with this post. We’ve already established that I’m a little sick & twisted. At least I’m consistent. And there’s so much more where this came from.
  6. Last but not least – if you (said ex) – are reading this right now…thank you for letting me remind you (for the rest of our lives) that you were simply “the worst.” And thank you for letting me publicly mock something very personal. You are such a good sport. XOXO.

Drum Roll Please…

I stumbled on this letter while I was looking for a photo for a totally different topic/post. I actually kind of believe the content in the letter…years later. But, I remember how I felt when I got it from “him.” So I offered up my translation as if it were then. It’s so much better than his bull@#$% version. While I harbor no hard feelings towards this ex today…I’m still convinced that my translation is the truth. He was such a piece of work.

He said…


I know you probably don’t want to hear from me, but I just wanted to get a few things off my chest. Writing you is the only way that I could get it out. I just want to apologize for being probably the worst boyfriend you have ever had. I realize there are a lot of things that I need to work on emotionally and mentally when it comes to being in a relationship with anyone. I know that I treated someone that I cared about really shitty because of my own personal battles, and that was not fair to you. There are a lot of things in my past relationships that I still hold on to, and that has created a wall that destroyed something great. I know it is something that I must work on; I am not trying to use that as an excuse for thing going bad with us. I think that I felt myself getting really involved with you and I felt like I was losing control of the situation and then I let myself mess things up. It is a dumb defense mechanism of mine that I have to get rid of. There are probably a lot of things I could have done different to keep from losing you, but I just don’t feel that I deserve someone like you right now, because I couldn’t give you the attention and affection that you should always have. Whether you know it or not you were really good for me, I don’t think anyone in my life has treated me and cared for me like you did. I want you to know that I would never purposely hurt you; I never intended things to be so bad. I just get caught up in my own head and forget that there is another person involved in the relationship. I hope you know that I cared for you and will always care for you. Natalie you are an amazing woman, I hope one day you can forgive me for my stupidity. I hope nothing but the best for you; you are going to get everything you want and deserve in life.


Translation (I assure you, this is what he really meant)…


I know you wanted me to get hit by a car. But I’m still alive. And I’d like to clear my conscience. I’m going to do it in writing because I don’t have the balls to look you in the face…especially not after that cocktail waitress acted so surprised when you introduced yourself as my girlfriend. It just didn’t seem relevant when I brought her home. I know I’m the worst boyfriend you have ever had. As you know, I have worked hard for that honor. I know you think I need to work on some things. I probably do. To be totally honest (which isn’t easy for me), it is way more fun to be just the way I am. I like my baggage. It never gets in the way of me picking up on chicks. Sure, you’ve found a few napkins with numbers, a few ladies have called in the middle of the night and there has been a few long blonde hairs on my bathroom floor – but there have been so many more. You really don’t know the half of it. I could work on my issues. But that seems like it would take a lot of energy and effort. Instead of doing that for you, I just want you to try not to feel totally insulted when I say, “it’s not you, it’s me” AND “I don’t deserve you.” I could have come up with something more sincere or original. But I don’t see the point. You and I both know; I’m better at drinking and wearing striped shirts than I have ever been at anything else. I admit; you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. But vodka is so much less maintenance. Why don’t we just raise our glasses to the few good times we had before you figured out that I’m only ever going to be fully committed to one person – ridiculously good looking me. I’m actually shocked you stuck it out this long. You probably should have listened to your friends when they told you I was a dead end. It would have saved you so many sleepless nights…like the night when your apartment flooded, but I was on a date so my roommate came over and helped you move your furniture away from the walls where water was seeping in. I should thank him again for covering for me. In any event, I know this relationship is going to have an impact on the way you treat men moving forward. You may even start acting more like me than you. Don’t say I never gave you anything. I hope one day, when I reach out to you (because I will), that you’ll respond. I also hope that you’ll be rich and/or famous by then. I’m pretty sure you could be and I want in on that. At the very least, if you respond, knowing you don’t hate me anymore would feed my ego. And you know how I love that.


Like I said…this post isn’t about payback or revenge. Dummy (I’m running out of names since I swore I wouldn’t use his real one) and I made nice a long time ago. This post is because I can. And I would. Of course, I have dated men I would NOT do this to. This is just not one of them (insert evil last laugh here).

I heart Jesse James and other perpetual, arrogant assholes.


Real Women Have Labia

January 19, 2012

Let me preface this post by saying, I am NOT knocking Brandi Glanville’s (entire) body. If I looked that good in a bikini, I’d be wearing dental floss…all the time…everywhere.

I simply want to have a conversation about this Beverly Hills Housewife’s lack – of labia.

I wish I was kidding. But I’m not. I can’t stop thinking about her crotch. Ask Bob. I’ve been talking about it for weeks. He’s been forced (not asked – forced) to participate. At least Bob is being asked (by his own wife) to carefully inspect another woman – below the waist. I know you’re all thinking it…I am so selfless.

Here’s the deal…

I want to know what happened to Brandi’s lips. And I’m not talking about her face. Compared to some of her pals, those lips still look fine to me. I want to know what happened to her labia. Where did her labia go? There is no way labia could fit inside her bikini bottoms. There is just no way. Ask any woman with labia. We need more than a centimeter of fabric.

Did her labia dissolve? How many ice chips did that take? How little do you have to weigh? I mean – I’ve lost inches off my waist and seen my cheeks get smaller over time – but I have never LOST MY LABIA. I would bet my right arm that most of my friends, even the thinnest ones (yes, even you Skinny Tara) – have labia. How did Brandi Glanville do it? And do they make special bikinis for women with such amazing features? They must. Because my average-sized bathing suits would swallow her non-existent labia up whole. Let’s be totally honest…they’d swallow up her hips, abs and no-cellulite-having-ass too. (Insert a twinge of jealousy here.)

At the end of the day, I don’t mind having labia. It must serve a purpose. That being said, I’m still considering an extreme diet plan to ditch mine. I could save some serious money on fabric. I could potentially date Eddie Cibrian (Leanne Rimes isn’t packing much in the labia department either). Or…I could just totally consume the warped mind of a woman such as myself – who thought things like stretch marks and curves and labia WEREN’T optional.

For those of you who think I’m completely insane (which is not far from the truth) or have no idea who/what I’m talking about – because you know better than to poison your minds with such pointless pop culture/programming…I have included a photo of said invisible labia.

You’re welcome.

Leanne Rimes vs. Brandi Glanville