Drama Queens & Petty Princesses

Recently, I had to say good-bye to some dear friends.  Our relationship is strongly one sided on my part, but I still wish the best for them.  I hope I can wait until the next season to catch up with my favorite ladies from New Jersey.

What is it about these lycra clad, spray tanned women that makes me care about them so much?  Is it the gratuitous amount of Swarovski crystal?  Their animal print laden children? That they couldn’t name the Vice President?  I couldn’t say, and that also leads to the question: why do the Real Housewives of New Jersey interest me more than any of the other Housewives?  (Although I feel a little classy when the Hwives of Miami speak Spanish requiring Bravo to add subtitles…I’m sure it is just like Cannes!)

Do I wish I had the confidence to pull this off?

 

 Courtesy of http://www.shopbrianlichtenberg.com

Somehow, I cannot tear myself away from a new season, even if I make a conscious decision to avoid a certain city. (Does anyone care about Orange County anymore?) Yet, I find myself with some downtime, and voila! a marathon is on.  Not only do I end up filling my free time, but I also end up running late to whatever I had planned. 

Television is full of misogynistic programs, and I can’t figure out where the Housewives fall in the spectrum.  One housewife runs multiple businesses - very Rachel Maddow - then the same housewife gets wasted and wears very little in the way of clothing - very Tara Reid.  Yet, somewhere in between there are loving husbands, charities, adorable children, and great pets!

However, my favorite part of the Housewives is discovering other fans. Nothing gets a conversation kicking like a recap of the latest episode.  (Perhaps this is why guys talk about sports all the time!) As I have recently relocated and said genuine goodbyes to friends that I love and miss dearly, I am glad to be a Housewives aficionado as I meet new people.  Is there a better way to start a conversation than by asking, “So, what did you think about the changes to the NYC cast?”

So even if Teresa Guidice, a “New York Times Selling Cookbook Author,” doesn’t reciprocate my feelings, she has certainly helped me to some great ice breakers.

P.S. What happened to Sheree?  And Camille?

P.P.S.  How come someone’s tag line always involves Not being a drama queen?

P.P.P.S. Not that I’ve thought about what my own tag line would be or anything, but…”They say Midwesterners are down to earth, but that doesn’t mean we don’t like nice things.”  And if that’s so wrong, I don’t want to be right. 

Friends 4Ever!

For more on this, scroll down...

After a lot of transitioning, I now find myself with a lot of free time.  Living in one of the most exciting cities in the world means there are spectacular sites to see.  Unfortunately, most of these sites require pants.  While my closet may be full of Minnie Pants, more often than not I find myself snuggled on my couch with my dog. (His strong powers of the cuddle are the cutest scapegoat!)

You want to leave ME to go to a MUSEUM?!?

At first this meant catching up on my favorite television, but when I could no longer sit through another episode of House Hunters I turned to the internet to catch up on current events.  (Seriously, move in ready homes are over rated!)  My search began at the New York Times home page, but I was sidetracked by a Hairpin.com story, ‘Texts from the BSC’.  This write up, by Mallory Ortberg, sent me into a whirlwind of nostalgia.  On this one web page, I was connected to women who spent many elementary school days dreaming of meeting in Claudia’s bedroom eating stashed Twinkies and discussing new Kid Kit items. Women who tried desperately to find Stoneybrook, Connecticut on a map. (Map as in an atlas, this was before AOL.)  I wondered how many of these women also had a secret crush on Logan Bruno, especially after he chose bookish, shy Mary Anne. (Bookworm gets the hottie!  Or, the hottie had some librarian fetish!) 



Sorry women everywhere, Chick Lit is all downhill from here!

This website made my day, and then it made my week by leading me to The Babysitters Club inspired Fan Fiction.  Quickly, the BSC transformed from a clique of middle schoolers to characters from a CW drama, one that never should have made it past the pilot.  The impressive part about these stories is the abundant use of Ann M. Martin inspired details, even if they took the characters literally “out of this world”. 

I had difficulty deciding if these chapters were written in earnest.  Part of me hopes so, for hilarity’s sake, yet a part of me wonders why “fans” would want the worst for these fictional young women.  I assumed many of the BSC would endure dysfunctional relationships due to the abundance of divorce and blended families in Stoneybrook, but thought it would be dysfunctional/charming rather than dysfunctional/drug abusing teen mom route.  (As a side note, I think these writers are what could save daytime broadcast television.)

Although not considered great literature, Ann M. Martin gave me something very special, an enjoyment of reading.  And based on fanfiction.net, I am not the only person who felt her inspiration.

Now onto search Fan Fiction for “Felicity Merriman: An American Girl”, perhaps where this spunky red head has a racy affair with a Red Coat! 

Carboload and Diet Rite

I used to love teen magazines; I blame my 20^th birthday for the discontinuation of YM Magazine.  Even though the “Say Anything” section was obviously fabricated, it still put me at ease with my awkward teenage-ness.  Besides the many fashion and makeup tips learned from these magazines, I consider myself an unofficial diet expert.  The everyday little things, like blotting pizza, ordering dressing on the side, and drinking 8 to 10 gallons of water a day are tried and true standbys. It was amazing how many different ways they could be spun in each monthly issue.  These magazines were also full of mixed messages like “You are beautiful just the way you are, but here are some tips to lose 10 pounds instantly!” and “Be confident, hide your flaws with these celeb makeup tips!”  Believe me, I used my share of Cover Girl products, and I’m still waiting to look like Niki Taylor. 

Photos courtesy of http://www.tias.com/stores/joespaper/

And how is it possible for so many books and products to successfully play into this confusion?  While riding the train, I noticed an ad for the OMG! Diet.  My interest piqued, I snapped a photo and went home to search the web.  Any diet that claims “broccoli carbs can be worse than soda carbs” is worth a second look.  (As long as I didn’t have to pay for anything!)  So Google lead me to a Huffington Post “article”.  Apparently, this book was written by a British dude named Venice, who is selling his successful British plan to American Women.  Are we supposed to trust a guy who chose to be known as Venice?  He definitely looks like a con-artist, but I still looked into all of his claims.  Basically, his plan is to eat healthy foods and exercise, but he uses some outrageous claims to get attention.  (Is it disappointing that this worked?  That’s a question for another day.) 

Here is my photojournalism at its finest!

Without anything new to take away, I was disappointed but not really surprised.  For a diet to be “OMG!” worthy, it would make living healthy exciting.  A diet that would make low blood pressure and strong immune systems be the new skinny.  A “Who cares if I’m a size 10, I walked up the stairs without getting winded, and my digestion?  Like a freakin’ clock!”  I would call it the Greenwich ME Time Diet!  I bet the doctors that back 5 Hour Energy would support the idea, I just have to get funding.  (Maybe I will start accepting Google ads, so in about 20 years!)

While I know what my priorities should be, I can’t help learning about the latest fad diet.  Perhaps someday I will accept that life isn’t full of quick fixes, no matter what Jenny tells me!

Here is the link to the article, and pretty ridiculous slideshow:

http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/2012/07/05/health-six-weeks-to-omg-diet-really-works_n_1650323.html#slide=1183922

Her Colors are Pink & Pink

When it comes to child beauty queens, I get upset.  Not because of the spray tan chemicals, painful wigs, and overly sexy costumes...I guess getting jealous would be more apt.  I could totally give those Madisons and McKenzies a run for their money! (Seriously, the things that pass for pretty feet!)  The unhappiness felt by many of the girls about being fawned over as they are transformed from toothy, muddy, developing humans into living doll beauty queens, is disconcerting.  (Who needs Legos and finger paints?) I would love nothing more than to be transformed from Average Jane to Awesomely Attractive Jane! However, I prefer my dress be made in Italy instead of some woman's double-wide. 

Sadly, my chances to be a child beauty queen are behind me, and I am not accomplished enough in life, or bust, to be an adult queen.  I could always enter the "Mrs." pageant circuit, but this would place some stress on my remaining a Mrs.!  Being a 30 year old obnoxious girly girl is usually some plea for undeserved attention reeking of despair, even Elle Woods knew to suit up as a lawyer.  So I have learned to control my love of pink and shiny, even if doing so has strengthened my obsession for puppies.

Caption: Best of Both Worlds or Beat this Eden Wood!

Assisting in this transformation was my marriage to a sports lover.  He is not just a sports lover, he is an "I can tell you player statistics and salary for all MLB players" sports lover. Or more like a "He started dating me because the Soccer Channel was part of my basic cable plan". He is also an "I get so depressed when my team loses a major sporting event I walk home from the bar four miles away at one AM" sports lover.  Luckily for our marriage, I enjoy attending sporting events. (Perhaps for the pageantry of it all, even though no one does The Wave anymore.)  My enjoyment at these events comes not from the excitement and drama of the live game, but from the fact that arenas and ballparks serve exclusively junk food.  So I pass through the ticket booth with an empty stomach and wait anxiously for the nacho and beer opportunity to arise.  At one ballpark, they served vegetarian hot dogs, this park was in San Francisco, but for a brief moment it was in Heaven.  In the real world, I couldn't eat pizza and french fries without feeling terrible guilt, however dipping nachos into that processed milk product helps me focus and eventually I learn a little something about the sport I'm watching.  So if it takes a million tortilla chips to transform this dainty lady into a tailgating sports fan, I am up for the challenge! 

Since I was worried that TLC wouldn't allow me to use their images and I don't want any hits from future Dateline guests, here is a link to T & T's top tanning moments:

http://tlc.howstuffworks.com/tv/toddlers-tiaras/videos/toddlers-tiaras-top-tanning-moments.htm

While Mrs. America sounds made up, it is not, here is proof:

http://www.mrsamerica.com/


I would also like to thank Wrigley Field, The United Center, Citi Field and AT&T Park, for inspiring this post.  Please ignore the peer and government pressure to offer healthy food choices.

Girls' Night Out!

Recently, I have been watching a lot of television.  I should re-word that sentence.  Recently, I have been watching a lot of live day time television instead of recorded programs.  I have witnessed a lot of low budget and frequently repeated commercials (it's 100 degrees outside and Bravo keeps running marathons, so please forgive my idleness).  At this point, I'm convinced that I experienced prolonged asbestos exposure and at any moment, I will fall and not be able to get back up.  However, it is a certain movie preview that caught my attention.  Matthew McConaughey, sans shirt, is preaching to his fellow exotic dancers that their important purpose is to fulfill the fantasies of their female audience. Meanwhile, the females in the audience are taking advantage of their special night out, like this is a once in a lifetime occasion since they will never be let out of the house again.  Apparently, watching a bunch of guys dance around in the almost buff is the perfect way to spend quality time with your girlfriends.  

I might be in the minority, but seeing a bunch of well muscled, oily guys just makes me feel self conscious about skipping the gym. The history of male stripping is not a subject in which I am well versed, but I'm pretty certain the concept was thought up by a bunch of men attempting to make the stripping profession equal opportunity. 

After attending a Chippendale's show in Las Vegas recently, the consensus was that the show would have been much sexier if the guys were dancing instead of doing thrusts and gimmicks.  Perhaps I am a sour prude, but the Chippendale show did not fulfill my fantasies, nor was it the ideal Ladies Night Out.  (Perhaps it would be different if I had a sailor or motorcycle fetish.)  Overall, the show was over the top ridiculous, and pretty entertaining.

If I had to describe my version of an ideal Ladies Night, my monthly book club meetings come to mind.  There are few things more fun than drinking wine in good company.  While the book part of the evening is limited, I am proud that we usually manage at least thirty minutes of intelligent conversation before we digress to other casual topics, such as who will open the next bottle of wine.  As a thirty year old I find it difficult to make new girlfriends (sadly, the sticker book isn't as good of an ice breaker any more). Books have a great ability to bridge the small talk and wine has the power to loosen up even the grumpiest of us.  Mostly, I am thankful to the women who commit to meeting every month, because sometimes it seems like there aren't many chances to have a Ladies Night.  So, if spending Girls Night Out discussing contemporary literature instead of ogling some beef cakes strut their stuff is wrong, then I don't want to be right.

Thank you internet, for helping me find this image.

Hold Me Closer Tony Danza

My ideal day would be spent doing absolutely nothing.  Not nothing as in "contemplative meditation and reflection", but more of a "contemplative deflection" involving cable television, Words with Friends, and/or obsessive Facebook stalking.  Sadly, these activities lead down the path to becoming one of those people that gets airlifted out of bed.  (Although it does take the threat of heavy machinery to pull me away from a Dance Moms marathon!)  So, I am always on the lookout for interesting ways to get my rear in gear.  By interesting, I mean something without a pole or the word "strip" in the title.  (I will save my anti-strippersize rant for another day, perhaps after a few glasses of wine.)  Since I am about as athletic as a garbage can, I decided to go with something I enjoyed as a child - ballet.  I have been taking up precious drawer space with dance attire for a long time now, and this class would be a great opportunity to squeeze into my stash of unflattering clothing. (No longer do I chide Lululemon on their padded sport bras!)

If Barbie can do it, so can I!

I got up the nerve and entered the storefront decorated with skinny, graceful silhouettes.  Immediately, the smell of feet, sweat, and promise overwhelmed my nose,  and the waiting area swarmed with little third grade bun-heads.  Their excitement was infectious, and I was excited to sidle up to the barre.  Even though I am never going to be a great ballerina, it felt great to stumble through the classic steps.  During the class I felt graceful and flexible and that I truly missed my calling as a dancer.  (As long as I kept my eyes away from the mirror.)  The class was physically and mentally challenging, and totally worth the difficultly of going to the bathroom in a leotard.  It's a good thing I snarfed down some peanut butter cups that afternoon, or else I never would have made it through.  (Wink!)  Why would I go back to the treadmill, when I could glissade and tendu for an hour?

Growing up, I invested a lot of time and energy into activities I have slowly abandoned as an adult. The ballet class was a great reminder that adulthood doesn't mean the end of fun.  After a year, I feel like I have actually become a better dancer.  While I look around at the little girls with pangs of jealousy,  I take solace in the fact that I know how to keep my underpants from sticking out the sides of my leotard.  If I could get back into my pink ballet tights, who knows what will be next? 

My friends at http://shop.mattel.com/ gave me some great ideas...

Perhaps Chefdom!  At least I know to wear a hairnet!

Or Zoology!



Or MERMAID!!!!!!!!

   

P.S.  If turning to Barbie for answers is wrong, then I don't want to be right!

Out of Control or When A Ma-an Loves a Woman

Wintertime in the midwest has me thinking about (dwelling on, actually) unpleasant topics: cold temperatures, dark days, dry skin, conflict in the Middle East.  I added that last one for depth, but the Syrian conflict reminds me to be thankful that I was born an American and with the freedoms of US Citizenship.  I may never win the lottery, but I was handed a pretty nice go at life.  That is, unless a group of powerful stuffy old men decide to take some of my rights away.  Perhaps they are also affected by seasonal depression.  (More like seasonal Oppression!) But from my rare glances at C-SPAN, I can never remember which channel is HGTV, the oppressive tendencies seem to continue year round.  

When I first sat down to write my post, I had no intention of discussing the birth control debate; however, this is an election year, and women's rights are always a hot topic.  I guess hunger, violence, and a bad economy are too complicated so let's just point fingers and stomp feet over a woman's right to choose when she will conceive a child.  (Note: I am only talking about birth control, abortion is a complicated topic that I will not discuss on my blog.  I mean, I don't even have my own URL.)  The best method to preventing unwanted pregnancies is a combination of informed access to birth control and serious self esteem training for young girls, focusing mainly on those living below the poverty line.  That should be easy...right?  Americans are totally cool with being told what to do.

Obviously abstinence is the most effective way to keep the oven sans bun. Yet congressmen and clergymen alike take for granted that young Americans have enough strength in their faith to abstain from sex.  Maybe they are able to ignore the facts because they spend more time praying than watching MTV.  From the right, we hear: Sex is bad, if you want to partake then you are bad. The subject is taboo, so there is no reason is given, just guilt and shame. 

In response, shows like Sex and the City show gratuitous sex only covering the consequences once it is too late.  Perhaps the women would have been a little less emotionally damaged if they spent more time thinking about their actions instead of their shoes.  How come Miranda contracted chlamydia, while Samantha bed-hopped her way through Manhattan unscathed?

Where is the middle ground?  Where is the voice saying, "Oh, hey, you are going to want to have sex, and that makes you an average human. Oh, by they way, sex comes with emotions, hormones are a bi-atch. Sometimes there are even physical consequences.  So wait until you are mature enough to handle them."  (Scratch that, I don't want procreation to cease completely!) "So be aware that even though sex is natural, it isn't simple." Unfortunately, the voice of reason is often hoarse, so we have right-wingers thinking that all women are like Carrie & friends, even though they have only watched the sex scenes.

We are lucky to live in an age where medicine allows families to plan(ish) when children are brought into this world.  Birth control should be affordable, since raising a child is not. (Unless you don't want your child to have a good education, nutritious food, or adequate health care.)  Maybe if congress were debating how to provide the millions of American children with education, food, healthcare and a safe place to live, it wouldn't be so upsetting to hear them arguing over the cost of birth control.  Needless to say, I think affordable, accessible birth control is important to succeed as a modern society, and if that's so wrong, I don't want to be right. 

From Couch Potato to French Fry

The new year is off to a great start.  The first two days of 2012 were spent in pajamas, passing the time as a complete couch potato.  My full DVR was my to-do list.  I felt a sense of accomplishment watching the complete fourth season of Big Love by January 3rd.  (I know I'm a little behind the times, but I have at least heard of Downton Abbey.)

The new year inspires people to better themselves, and marketers take advantage of this sentiment by increasing the number of fitness equipment and diet ads on television. (A Nutra System ad is still a Nutra System ad even through the speed of the fast forward.) This made me think of how I could better myself, then I settled on thinking about diets. (By thinking about, I mean updating my Facebook status.)  This caused my Facebook sponsored links to be for various fad diets, meditation, and of course the old stand by - Weight Watchers.  Fad diets have always fascinated me, not enough to actually try one, but enough to read about them.  (I almost signed up for the cookie diet in Sky Mall, but bailed after I learned the diet didn't mean Girl Scout cookies.)

When someone tells me they are following a new diet trend, I judge them negatively.  What a person eats reveals details into their psyche.  Would you date a grown man who still eats Flaming Hot Cheetos or a woman who only eats items labelled Low-Fat and Sugar-Free?  (If the answer is yes, more power to you!)  Even on the other side of the spectrum, I'm hesitant to tell people I'm a locavore leaning vegetarian.  I assume that screams Liberal Hippie Tree Hugger Snob! ...and it probably does.  To compensate for my snobitude, in my "you are what you eat dreams",  I would be a giant french fry or a bag of Doritos...not baked.  

Perhaps this year, I will resolve to be appreciative of the food I eat and less judgmental towards the choices of others.  (Hey!  Oh good, you're eating that new hormone flavored burger topped with type 2 diabetes!)  Maybe I should resolve to be proud of my food choices and not worry if I am reviled as a hippie snob.  Either way, enjoy what you eat, and may 2012 be the year of strong resolve and world peace! 

~Kristen

P.S.  Here is a link to a great book about the importance of food.  It changed my life!

http://www.animalvegetablemiracle.com/

P.P.S.  Here is a link to a hilarious video about loving carbs, it gets a little PG-13 at the end.

http://youtu.be/-kGvtne2zfo