Think, "Beautiful"

When a woman feels beautiful and sexy, she acts beautiful and sexy. After that, it's a short step to looking beautiful and sexy to everyone else. It isn’t so much the reality of what we look like as it is our personal body image that determines our attractiveness to others.

Haven’t we all seen an overweight woman who exudes confidence and sex appeal? You see her and do a double-take. That is a beautiful woman! Her positive self image is revealed in the way she dresses, her hairstyle and makeup, the way she carries herself and her warm smile.

You study her haircut and earrings. You marvel at the perfectly-applied makeup and pedicured toes. You might even go so far as to wish you had an apple figure and ship prow breasts like hers. What is it, exactly, that makes her so lovely?

Of course it is her self confidence. Although she’s too nice to say it out loud, her demeanor reads: “Out of the way, skinny chicks. Let a Real Woman through. And make the path a bit wider, already! Momma’s got booty! ”

Some women just have it figured out. Until those women start giving free seminars at supermarket deli counters, we’ll have to dig deep, girls. Think, “Beautiful!” when you look in the mirror. Come out from under those loose, sloppy clothes. Walk tall. Paint your toenails. Wear lip gloss to the grocery store. Get a push-up bra. Whatever you do, don’t hide. Be “out there” and be gorgeous.

Strut down the wide path through the skinny chicks. I’ll meet you there!

DANGER: Instantly Slims You

My new Lee Riders jeans practically jumped into my cart on their own. In fact, they met me at the door of Wal-mart. How could I resist that label?

If I was shopping for a new lawn sprinkler, I’d definitely buy the one sporting the “Instantly Slims You” tag. Who wouldn’t?

What about an Instantly Slims You fishing pole? Instantly Slims You tube socks? Heck, I’d buy a pencil that promised to instantly slim me.

Is this genius marketing, or a potentially dangerous weapon of mass destruction?

Think of the ramifications, ladies. We could be led to very destructive behavior with those three little words.

* A one-night stand instantly slims you.
* Maxing out your credit cards instantly slims you.
* Methamphetamine use instantly slims you.
* Voting Democrat instantly slims you. (sorry, donkey friends!)
* Insurance fraud instantly slims you.

The future of our country could depend on the safe use of those three magic words.

Take care, America.

The first day of the rest of my life

OK, people. New plan. You're hearing it here, first.

Exclusive report.

I've been contemplating getting serious about losing weight before my two kids' weddings this fall. I'm just contemplating because I've been on diets off and on for the past 25 years. My desire to be thinner just cannot compete with my desire to indulge my every whim when it comes to food.

Tonight I was driving home with my best friend after consuming my half of a large pizza when she surprised the heck out of me by suggesting that it might be a good idea to get with the program and lose weight before the first wedding on Sept. 12.

I was surprised because Sue and I have fallen into the habit of effectively convincing ourselves that we're jolly, fun and great all-round gals, despite our weight. It's what's on the inside that counts, and all that. And here she was, going over to the dark side, encouraging me to exercise, cut back on sweets and add more veggies to my diet. What gives?

"You always hate photos of yourself, Krista," she said. "Do you want to keep your kids' wedding photos hidden away because you don't like the way you look?

"Besides, think of it as a 'two fer.' You only have to lose weight once for two weddings!"

Of course she's right. I hate pictures of myself. I hate how my face is all puffy and my body is all boobs and belly.

So, after she dropped me off at home, I harnessed up the hounds and took them for a long walk. I highlighted the day on my calendar and vowed to get the majority of my days highlighted for the next three months. I'm formulating an eating plan and am working on my overall attitude about eating and weight.

In the vein of full disclosure, I humbly submit my official "before" photo.

And I need your help. If you see me hoovering down a pizza or buying a Hostess Berry Pie, please knock me in the head with a 2x4. (I'll thank you when I recover consciousness.)

The date bra

Yes, ANOTHER post about bras and breasts. What's up with that?

Just FYI, but if your new bra feels like you’re not wearing anything at all, it probably looks like it, too.

I have a new bra that is sinfully comfortable. For once, I don’t walk into the house at the end of the day with one thing on my mind: Let the girls out!!

I was e-mailing a friend about said new foundation undergarment, gushing in my bliss, when I happened to look down. What the heck? Through my lightweight knit top, I could see bumps and bulges that don’t fit my good girl/grandma panties public image.

A lot of men enjoy the idea that a woman is seconds from coming out of her bra, and that was exactly what was happening. I was spilling out. Depending on what you hope to accomplish, I guess you might say it is the perfect date bra.

The bra was clearly under-equipped for corralling the girls, keeping them lifted and separated and minding their own business. They’d found a gap in the fence and they were tumbling all over themselves on their way to freedom.

After a quick look around the office, I shifted things back where they were supposed to be.

For the rest of the day I was very self-conscious about the date bra. Walking down the hall, I felt like a floozy with my boobs jiggling around like a molded Jell-O salad. I carried papers in front of me and avoided unnecessary trips away from my desk.

Will I return it? No. Will I avoid wearing it to work? No. I’ll be careful about sashaying around the office, but I’ll wear it as a reminder that I need to cut loose and relax more. I may be the good girl/grandma panty type on the outside, but there’s a lot more going on on the inside. I’m way more interesting than I look. For one thing, my grandma panties are leopard print, so there!

My date bra will help me remember that.

Precious moment nipped in the bud

Molly and I were brushing Jigs last night on the kitchen floor–while I was making dinner. Right off the bat, you’re sure you don’t want to eat at my house. That works out since I don’t really like company, anyway.

But it gets worse. We were taking turns “brushing” him with our bare feet. A long swipe down the back produced a pile of dog hair to be picked up and tossed away. It was a very satisfying and companionable activity while we were chatting about wedding plans and making stir fry --a sweet mother-daughter-dog moment.

Maid-of-honor, reception dinner, Molly ran her foot down the dog's back and picked up the hair ball. Tuxedoes, flowers, table runners, I took my turn petting and grooming the dog in the laziest way possible.

As is usually the case when I’m home and not expecting company, I wasn’t wearing a bra. When I leaned over to pick up the clumps of fluffy yellow dog hair, the girls were dancing and swinging over poor Jigs’s head. I’m sure he thought I had a couple of squirrels in my shirt and he couldn’t resist. With remarkable speed in a dog that fat, he attacked.

I’m sorry to report, I got nipple-nipped. I yelped and jumped back. That sort of thing really takes the fun right out of grooming your dog with your foot.

The mood was gone.

I went back to stirring shrimp and asparagus and wondering how a girl would explain a dog bite on the nipple if she had to go to the emergency room. Molly went back to her big wedding binder and To Do list.

Jigs looked around eagerly, wondering where those squirrels went.