Mrs. Barbie

I am officially married and back on the blogging scene.  My husband is thrilled that it's all finally over with, and I've been trying to throw subtle hints at my sister's boyfriend to propose already because I'm ready to plan another wedding!!
A quick update:  I made a huge life decision and have decided to go to esthetician school instead of finishing my fashion degree.  So get ready for lots of posts on make-up, waxings, and making people purteeeeeeee!!
Because Barbie is back.  With a gazillion thank you notes to write.  Oh gosh, I'm really going to do my best not to abandon y'all again!!

Oh, Karma!!

"America is very blessed - yes, we have our own issues, & yes, we should do more to make those issues better, but we did not just lose 200,000 residents due to an earthquake. We SHOULD be helping those countries less fortunate than us. Someday we may need this type of assistance. Regardless of the problems in your own family, you'd try to help another hurting family. THAT is what America is doing with Haiti."

(I typed everything I felt, and then Facebook told me it was almost double the characters allowed for a status, so that was definitely an abbreviated version of my feelings.)


I HATE politics!!  I try to avoid at all costs two things:  conflict, and talking about politics.  (Both make me want to cry.)


Unfortunately or fortunately, I have some really strong feelings about being nice.  Nice is such a general word, boring maybe, and in writing, much too vague of a word to use, well, really ever, but that's what I am and what I believe in.

Karma is so real - what goes around, comes around.  I help you, you help me, we become BFF's, we love each other until we are chasing each other around in our wheelchairs at the nursing home.  Or something like that.


The world is becoming more and more like a single country every day.  We are more united than we have ever been thanks to technology.  What happens in another country concerns and affects us, and what happens in America concerns and affects every other nation in the world.  

So why is helping people who have been affected by a horrific natural disaster any different than one family in a neighborhood helping the other?  Every family has their own problems, but we are well past the time when we could just be concerned with our own.  The world is nothing but families separated by water, and if I've learned one thing from living in the South, it's that every family is related way back.  If the United States were devastated by an earthquake, any natural disaster, or a terrorist attack (9/11?), so many of the same people who are frustrated with America's providing help to Haiti would be appalled that other countries in the world did not rush to our aid.  I'm sure everyone remembers how angry people were when France did not support our "war on terrorism" after September 11th.  

How can we possibly expect others to help us if we throw our noses in the air and turn our backs on other places in need?  How can we even be taken seriously as a country?


Seeing what has happened in Haiti has broken my heart, and although everyone is entitled to their own opinion, karma is a bitch.  


So, this Barbie doll has had her fill of politics AND conflict for the year now.  Expect nothing but pink and shopping and fun from now on!!

Breaking Up With Mr. Cig

Mr. Cig and I were together for a long time.  Two years at least, off and on.  He was usually right there when I needed him, and if not, all I had to do was jump in my car and drive about half a mile down the road - he was always waiting for me.  Besides his constant availability, Mr. Cig was filthy smoking hot!!

Our relationship was getting expensive though, and I knew that deep down, Mr. Cig was a bad boy.  He never missed a party, stayed at the bars until closing time, and I swear I saw him in the backseat of a friend's car.  There was even a rumor going around that he was a murderer, but I never saw that side of him.  He was what shortened a long day at work, calmed me down when I was stressed, and brightened my mornings.  His only downside - he kind of smelled.

I ended things with Mr. Cig on Sunday night pretty abruptly.  New year, new me, right?  And he was bad for me, and I felt strong, and just like that, we were done!!

I see him everywhere now!!  It's driving me crazy - and he looks even sexier now than he ever did while we were together.  I feel like maybe we didn't have a proper good-bye, like maybe we should try it again and this time I could really just savor our last minutes together.  Like Sunday wasn't the best day for a breakup.

My therapist, Mr. Nick Patch, has suggested daily appointments for about two months.  Four days down.

Raw veggies with a side of intense cardio?? Maybe I'll start that NEXT Monday.

Dear Holidays,
Thank you for the extra 5 - 10 pounds.  I think I am set as far as extra padding (you know, for warmth and hibernation and all that).  Damn you, comfort food.  The dressing room in Victoria's Secret doesn't lie.
Faithfully yours,
Growing Girl

Diet was set to start yesterday, as was the cigarette abstinence program.  Jumpy as hell, I tripped over the dog's bone in the living room, fell down, and immediately burst into tears.  I cried for half an hour or better as Ken asked me over and over what was wrong.  I didn't know but couldn't stop the waterworks, so he offered to take me out for Mexican before I went to work.  And the day had gotten off to such a good start - I even took a vitamin!  I even poured the rest of the milk in my Kashi cereal down the drain to avoid the extra calories.  But how was I going to say no to cheese and salsa covered fried stuff when I couldn't smother my pointless tears in a cloud of smoke??  How??

Needless to say, diet starts next Monday.  Which will give me exactly two months to tone my mashed-potato-and-gravy-with-a-side-of-mac-and-cheese-and-maybe-some-pumpkin-pie-too ass up!!  Which is just as well, because I start school on Monday.  I can hear the doors of the gym now..."What HAPPENED, Barbie??  It's only been a MONTH!!"

Can't wait.

Why didn't I do all this last year??

(I'm not even going to acknowledge the fact that I've been MIA for three months or more.  It never happened.  Seriously, I don't even know what you're talking about.)

I'm an obsessive list maker, so here is my list of resolutions for 2010.  (Because I will conveniently forget them if they are not written down.)

Wash my face every night.  I get a huge case of the lazies right before bed, which often results in wearing my make-up to bed.  I'm getting married in two and a half months, and I can't afford any ugly breakouts!!

Quit smoking.  For good.  I am dreading this one.  I've tried to quit so many times.  I know that I can do it - I just can't pretend that I am able to be only a "social smoker".  I just signed up at http://www.becomeanex.org, and it promises to help you rethink the situations that make you smoke.  I'm also doing the nicotine patches, because I know they work.  I just have to stay strong.

Hire a trainer.  To help me not become a fat ass when I do quit smoking.  (Not that holiday food hasn't already done it's part in "helping" me gain a few.)  Also to help me get in perfect shape for my wedding...and the honeymoon.  Dress code on a cruise ship?  Can anyone say, bikini??  (Can my trainer say "Delusional!!"  I always imagine him having this ridiculous French accent saying, "What??  You geev me two months to work with 'zis??"  Yeah, maybe I should have made an appointment about six months ago.

Learn how to live in the moment.  Or at least in the day.  I've always lived for what's happening next.  I never just enjoy what is happening now.  And as cliche as that sounds, I want to learn how to quit wishing my life away.  Time is going by faster and faster every year and I want to appreciate it.

Do not use my credit card.  I am keeping that evil little money sucker in the safe FOR EMERGENCIES!!  REAL emergencies - not the "oh my God I need those shoes!" emergencies.  I paid it off this month, and I plan on keeping it that way.


Blog more consistently, at least once a week.  Hey, y'all!!  I am resolving not to abandon you again!!

Stepford Barbie?

I noticed this weekend that apparently, wearing heels to the grocery store causes me to spend approximately three times more than I would otherwise.  There seemed to be something just so right about tossing miscellaneous items into my shopping cart while I pranced around about five inches taller than natural. 

Something very...Stepford wife-ish. 

It was exhilarating, until I realized the buggy was nearly overflowing (I could barely move it, it was so heavy) and remembered that I had been supplied with limited funds.  So a marched up to around four or five random shoppers and employees to ask them if they believed I had stayed under my limit.  (Obviously, overconfidence is also a side-effect of shopping in high heels.) 

When I finally made it to the check-out counter and discovered that I was, indeed, under my limit, I actually felt upset and cheated, like I needed to go back and buy more food.  Ooooh, very bad, Barbie. 

Therefore, I will be wearing flats to the grocery store from now on.  Boo-hoo.

Sex, love, and...shoes??

My obsession with shoes has taken a new turn.  My first love was strappy stilettos.  We broke up, and I started stalking wedges.  When that didn't work out, I met the classic pump, and as that relationship grew boring, I am now pursuing a winter fling with boots.  (Confession:  I still have occasional one-night-stands with my former lovers.)

But oh, my boots.  My old go-to cowboy boots, my classic brown leather Jessica Simpson knee-highs, the Calvin Klein black ankle boots, my leopard print rain boots...my list of conquests would shock you!  But I wanted needed, something more.

Then I discovered, thanks to my InStyle magazine subscription, over-the-knee boots.  Lust at first sight.

And I never lust after something for long!

(Forgive the grainy photo - I was literally panting trying to get a good picture of these by myself, while they were on myself's feet!!)

Aren't. They. GORGEOUS.

(Rhetorical question, darlings.)

Black Nine West over-the-knee boots.  I squealed when I found them.  Yes, in the store.  In front of people.  We are in the newlywed phase and I refuse to be ashamed for squealing.  I hugged them all the way to the register.

These boots are going to make beautiful babies with tights and mini-dresses.  Sigh.