This week, I’ve seen a number of articles circulating the internet with tips to help navigate/survive the holidays when you have an eating disorder. This particular topic struck a chord with me, having struggled with both anorexia and bulimia since I was nine years old.
Happy Thanksgiving to my American friends!
I may be your neighbour to the North with the smokin’ hot Prime Minister, but I am secretly envious of your patriotism, commercialism, and free-refills policy.
I wanted to write a brief little shout-out to the country that’s given me so much blog love this past year, and is home to some of my favourite people in the entire world.
You’ve had one hell of a year, Girl. You’ve got so much to be thankful for, namely the legalization of Gay marriage that has thwarted my plans to strike a deal with a closeted gay male from a Republican family, marry for a green card, and then amicably divorce within two years just to get his family to leave him alone at Thanksgiving dinner. Now it’s back to the drawing board, and I’ll have to sell myself the old fashioned way: On Craigslist.
I don’t think you understand my severe dislike of Canadian winters and the lengths I would go to for a chance to live in your beautiful Southern States. Lingering Confederate ideals? I can’t hear them from the sound of my boat on the ocean while I’m getting some sun at the sand bar on the weekend. You’re lucky to live in a country with diverse climates.
NEVER TAKE THAT FOR GRANTED.
This Thanksgiving, I hope you count your blessings, not calories.
The other day, I sat down to tea with my guy friends and they let me in on a tidbit of information that is apparently well known among the male population: Never, ever, marry the hot girl.
Before we go any further, you should know that these are actually REALLY sweet guys, but sometimes they say the dumbest, most appalling tripe I’ve ever heard.
I tried to maintain my composure, keep my cuss words to a minimum, but of course, asked them to elaborate.
Marcus, the laid back, well groomed, fashion obsessed member of the group, took the lead. “The hot girl is going to make your life miserable,” he said. “Date her, but right after you break-up with her, start dating someone average, still pretty, but you know. Not as pretty. That girl’s going to go above and beyond for you because she has to. ”
I reached for my cellphone, pretended to text and immediately began taking notes for this blog post. “What do you mean, above and beyond?”
Marcus continued, “The average girl’s going to cook and clean and have your kids. She’s not concerned with staying beautiful forever. She’s wife material.”
Bullshit or honesty? I kept pushing. “Don’t you think that your wife should be the most beautiful woman in the world to you? Shouldn’t you think she’s actually the Hot Girl?”
Sensing my growing frustrations, my co-worker Roman, interjected. “Oh, nobody’s saying that you don’t love your wife, or think she’s beautiful. You fall in love with her personality, and that makes her even more beautiful.”
“But she’s just not the hottest, that you physically have ever been with,” Marcus added. “She’s great, but she brings something else to the table.”
This is where I should mention that both Marcus and Roman are single. Our married friend, Chris, sat further down the table shaking his head in disbelief, quietly laughing at our conversation.
“This is ridiculous.” I told them.
“Do me a favor,”Marcus said smiling. “Next time you’re at the mall, look at the left hand of every hot girl you see. There will be no ring. Then, look at the other girls, they’ll all be married or engaged.”
I was in disbelief but intrigued. I admit, I’ve never really dated any guy that I thought followed traditional definitions of “hot.” I’ve dated good-looking guys, but not guys that could be mistaken for male models. I have an innate distrust of really good-looking people or “hot” guys , maybe because I don’t believe they would ever be interested in me, or that I wouldn’t be enough to keep their attention. There’s always going to be someone prettier, better looking, hotter – and all that jazz.
Were the guys just (poorly) describing the same type of insecurity?
“Everyone wants the hot girl,” Marcus continued, obviously enjoying the ability to espouse his wisdom to the opposite sex. “She knows it. She likes the attention, and there’s always going to be someone trying to take her.”
There it was, insecurity rearing it’s ugly head.
I nodded, more or less agreeing with everything they weren’t saying. What began as a shallow conversation turned into a glimpse into what we all have in common: fear that someone’s going to affirm the idea that we aren’t “good enough.”
I could easily take this conversation at face value and think these guys are witless d*cks, but maybe this was just a glimpse into someone’s heartache history. To come up with this “rule” there must have been a girl who broke their heart, right?
Or, could this simply be a matter of discovering that looks aren’t everything? No matter how “hot” someone is, there’s more to a partnership than physical attraction. My favorite adage is the crass, “For every Supermodel, there’s a guy that’s tired of f*cking her.”
The Hot Girl is subjective. The Average Girl is subjective. Diff’rent Strokes for Diff’rent folks. Are there any hard and fast rules for dating, or are there just lessons we’ve learned that we should keep to ourselves unless articulately expressed?
Am I being to kind in trying to look beneath the shallow surface of this conversation?
What do you think? Tell me in the comments below.
Last week, People magazine set your lady carriage on fire by naming David Beckham the Sexiest Man Alive.
Not to be outdone, Vogue, published an article listing 10 Unconventional Alternatives to the Sexiest Man Alive.
Okay. I’m not even going to pretend I read Vogue. Vogue is like the friend who chain-smokes, drinks endless amounts of coffee, is a size 0, and doesn’t wear a drop of makeup. I’m like the cookies for breakfast, pageant hair, US Weekly reading girl. Sure, I dabble with Vogue on occasion the way some 20 somethings dabble with MDMA; I’m not buying my own, but if it’s around, sure. I’ll give it a whirl.
(For the record I’m too scared to try ANY drug because I once saw a Sally Jesse Raphael episode about a girl who died after taking ecstasy once,and that was enough to all but send me to a nunnery).
I was doing my morning scroll of the headlines, in case any of my coworkers tried to engage me in a conversation about global news, when I saw the following article, Justin Trudeau Named On Vogue’s ‘Sexiest Man Alive’ List . I think I’ve made it pretty clear that I’m A-OK with male objectification, so I was like a proud mom when I saw that Prime Minister Trudeau was name dropped for his obvious Disney Prince level of good looks.
I don’t care if you’re talking about how hot our PM is, I’m just glad you know WHO he is, and that Canada doesn’t have a President, a King, or is ruled by the Queen of England.
Here’s the thing with Vogue’s list: Everyone on it was still ridiculously attractive, but not in a “Don’t I recognize you from the gym?” way. Vogue’s list was men with charisma and a real-life, attainable, bumped into you while in line for coffee, level of sex appeal.
These men are employable. Which ladies, as we know, becomes the number 1 quality in a man once you turn twenty-five.
Aside from Trudeau, the list includes Tom Hiddleston (be still my heart), Benedict Cumberbatch, Oscar Isaacs and Aziz Ansari.
These are the guys you want to discuss books with, drink tea with while reading the paper together on a rainy Sunday after you mauled him like a tiger Saturday night after one too many glasses of Merlot.
Is this list unconventional?
Is this a list for the woman who wants someone who can carry a conversation and wear the shit out of a suit?
Well done, Vogue.
Well done, indeed.
Some people have football, some people hockey, I have awards shows.
Last night the American Music Awards, hosted by Jennifer Lopez, was a three hour non-stop variety show that began with JLo performing a booty shaking routine to the year’s hottest songs. I can’t hate on JLo (anymore) – she seems like a sweet boss babe, but she’s next level famous. What the f*ck is she doing hosting an awards show on network television?
Anyways. Jennifer changed a whopping ten times throughout the night and paraded around the stage with a smile on her face, talked about living her dream and her truth and it was like a Tony Robin’s seminar with a smokey eye.
The show was MEH. Winners were based on fan votes, so you knew ahead of time that if the artist was in the audience, there’s a good chance they were going to win. There were some peeps on Twitter getting their gitch in a twist because Taylor Swift wasn’t named Artist of the Year, but again – Taylor’s too busy with the 1989 World Tour to have awkward run-ins with her ex, Harry Styles. WHICH IS ALL ANYONE WOULD HAVE TALKED ABOUT. By anyone, I mean me (I still have hope for those two).
Ok. Let’s be petty and shallow and talk about clothes.
From the neck up, perfection. Neck down, looks like she got stuck putting on some pantyhose, said “f*ck it” and decided to go out in public. I never understood this see-thru dress trend because of the bullet-proof Nonna full back underwear. I thought we were supposed to hide those from guys and only wear them on period days or when we need a little bit of a tuck-in?
Best dressed of the night, ladies and gentlemen! Can’t go wrong with Givenchy! This dress is sparkly, shows a LOT of skin (the back is completely open) and makes Selena look like a million bucks to distract us from her mediocre singing. I love that she wore this while her ex, Justin Bieber dressed like he stocks shoes at Pacsun. Make him suffer, girl! Well done.
Best legs in the biz, kids. Carrie looks like a Good Witch of the North at the club. It’s pretty and ethereal and yet a little bad-ass at the same time. You know that I will NEVER sass Carrie, and luckily with fashion choices like this I don’t have to. XO. Love it.
Okay, I know there was a lot of buzz about his suit looking like it was made out of an Ikea duvet, but I LOVE this look on Harry. It’s so IDGAF, which is just what I like in my greasy haired boy band members. Plus, if there’s anyone who wants to give him shit about this look, I’ll just reply, “It’s Gucci.” He knows how to stand out in a crowd, see? Now all we’re looking at is Harry and his floral suit. Top notch, Styles.
Not all Bae’s were winner’s last night, and Nick Jonas looking like a hot piece of belly button fluff was unfortunately a fashion fail in my books. It just looked like he was wearing 100% wool or felt, and was sweating profusely underneath his clothing (prove it! amirite?) I think what ruins it for me is the monochrome look, the turtleneck and the orthopedic house slippers that he’s wearing. He’s still super attractive, but it’s like a cruel joke that he’s trying to test the limits of my affection. The limit is the turtleneck, babe. We need some space.
This is just one of the 10 looks J Lo wore last night at the AMAs. I’d like to thank her for motivating me to hit the treadmill. After watching her opening dance number, I immediately put down my cookies, and jumped on the treadmill for a 45 minute run. Seriously. HER BODY IS RIDICULOUS. This isn’t really a dress, more like, a makeshift garb from fabric scraps, but it’s all held in so well without any jiggle!
Brava, JLo. You’re better than us all. We get it.
Who was your best dressed last night? Worst dressed?
In January, I began a new position working in IT. I left my comfortable little cubic-cave, and my office of menopausal mother figures to join a team of six men from cultural and religious backgrounds that could not be more different from my own. As the only female in the group , I consider myself a younger, curvier, Jane Goodall living among the primates.
I was worried I wouldn’t fit in with the team, that we’d have nothing in common, or that they wouldn’t be washing their hands after visits to the rest room.
It turns out, my six multicultural computer chimps were concerned about having me on their team as well. I recently found out they were briefed by my boss to, “Be kind, inclusive, and not to say anything that can be misconstrued as sexual harassment.”
At three o’clock everyday, I was invited to join the boys for tea, and listen to them discuss cars. Every. Single. Day. I learned about shocks, struts, brakes, winter tires, summer tires, paint finishes, mileage, their dream cars, their current cars, their worst car, their wives car, their wives driving, their motorcycle, their sport bike, sports bikes versus Harley’s and it went on and on until faced with cutting my own ears off with a butter knife, I stopped going to three o’clock tea.
After a week of keeping to myself, one of the more sensitive primates of the pack invited me back to the round table, where to my surprise they were willing to discuss dating, relationships, and the differences between men and women.
It’s been 10 months, but I believe I’ve finally been accepted as one of their own. This achievement brings me to a new series of blog posts entitled Lunchtime Anthropology, where I’ll relay my humorous and sometimes enraging observations and conversations with what I’ve affectionately dubbed, “My Frans, my bestie boos, my hoes” even though they insist I stop calling them that.
Their identities will be protected, and details of our work will be avoided (I’m not looking for a law suit here), but I’ll be sharing a male perspective to this otherwise estrogen riddled Tampax ad of a blog.
Luckily, none of the boys on my team care about my blogging endeavors, so I’m safe. If I should be discovered… Well. Godspeed. It was a pleasure writing for you.
It’s the most wonderful time of the year!
People Magazine celebrated 30 years of objectifying men (hallelujah) by naming David Beckham the Sexiest Man Alive.
Grab a tea, eat some cookies and let’s have some real talk about this.
David Beckham is certifiably hot. No one will argue that. He’s got the smoldering look, can pull off any hairstyle he wants, and his body is lean muscle, not the overwhelming “I can’t cuddle this brick wall” muscle.
Personally, David Beckham does nothing for me. I get it, but from the belly button down, I’m epidural numb without the cervical dilation. I’m more of a tall dark and handsome type girl (which I will discuss later).
I think the selling feature for David Beckham to a lot of women is that he’s aesthetically good looking, has an Achilles heel with his high pitched voice (kind of like Timberlake- people like an imperfect man), and David is first and foremost a family man.
These days you never see photos of Beckham without a kid or with a shirt. It’s either or.
No kid? Shirts off.
With one of his brood? Fully clothed.
People respect that.
I respect that.
I rarely agree with People Magazine’s selection for SMA, so I’m a bit disappointed that one of my favorites wasn’t given the title.
If you’ve read my blog before, you know I go positively middle school when talking about male celebrities. Which is sad, but that’s really all I have: My unsolicited opinion and my cat.
So, that being said – here are my picks for Sexiest Man Alive…
3. Eric Decker
Tall – Check
Handsome – Check, Check, Check!
Decker plays for the New York Jets, but don’t ask me what position. I don’t give a rat’s ass about football. All I know is Decker is genetically gifted, and like David, a family man. This father of two is married to Jessie James Decker, my imaginary squad member.
My sister Marie and I use Eric Decker as the benchmark for all men. Whenever I’m talking about guys or possibly dating someone, she always asks whether they’re “Decker material.” If they aren’t we move along.
2. Sam Hunt
Tall – Check
Handsome – Check, Check, Check!
I’ve chronicled our torrid love affair for the past year, and how one drunk 17 year old thwarted my plans to see Sam in concert, after I paid an obscene amount of money to be front row.
I WILL seek vengeance.
Hunt is a Southern boy, country singer-songwriter with quarterback good looks. He’s got that “Aw-shucks, I go to Church, love my Mama, but won’t hesitate to take you up against this here wall.”
Amen, Sam Hunt. Amen.
1. Jake Gyllenhaal
Dark – Check
Handsome – Check, Check, Check,
Bonus points : Blue eyes
Oh, Jake. You are a living, breathing, Prince Eric from the Little Mermaid, and that’s why I love you – because Disney conditioned me to!
Funny, humble and sometimes eerily dark, Jake is the blue ribbon winner in this dog show called life.
I could go on, and on, but then I think no one would ever date me, and my friends would have me committed. I’m literally one cat away from being locked up American Horror Story Asylum style. Which wouldn’t be so bad, I could use the vacation and some quality “Me” time, but anyways.
What do you think about People’s choice?
Who would be YOUR choice for Sexiest Man Alive?
This is the 200th post on Honestly, Libby!
So many people to thank. Oprah (my deity of choice) – all things are possible through you!
My mom, for always telling me that my writing is too crass, because that means I’m doing something right.
To my friends who read the blog and feed my ego by making me feel like I’m actually good at something, I love you!
Thanks to everyone in the WordPress world for being so great! I really do cherish my WP friendships.
1 . Jennifer Lawrence in Vogue
Glasses of wine in hand, we head upstairs, and when we walk into the enormous master suite she makes a sweeping gesture toward the bed and says, “This is where the maaagic haaaappens.” Then she shoots me a get-real look. “Literally zero magic has happened in here.” She holds up her glass in a toast: “Cheers to my hymen growing back!”
2. Spurgeon Elliot Seawald
3. Master of None
4. Justin Bieber Week on Ellen
5. Katy Perry Being Katy Perry
Every year. Every GD year I dread the Victoria’s Secret fashion show and it’s big barrel curls and 14 inch rib cages. This year, the show should officially change it’s title to, “Taylor Swift’s Friends Walking” because that’s essentially all the show has become, just twenty of Taylor’s BFF’s giving #squad and #eatingdisorder goals for the masses.
Ok, OKAY. It’s not the model’s fault if young girls and let’s be real, grown women, internalize these images and let them feed the already gnawing belief that this is type of beauty is what results in love, success and acceptance. Models are genetically thin. Models use their bodies, their naturally thin bodies to make money. That is all.
I just wish, someone, ANYONE who was or is a Victoria’s Secret model would take a moment and think, “Man, nothing is going to change if we keep televising lingerie fashion shows.”
Because really – NOTHING IS GOING TO CHANGE IF WE KEEP TELEVISING LINGERIE FASHION SHOWS.
I give props to these girls for trying to spin VS into a positive experience, about female empowerment and supporting one another, but what about supporting the rest of the women in the world? What about saying, “This is super fucked up, but I’m making serious bank and you should know that I know it’s damaging to you.”
I would respect you more, if that were the case.
Victoria’s Secret released a video about the auditioning process being “super emotional.”
You know what’s emotional? Me, trying to pick an outfit on a daily basis or accidentally catching a glimpse of my ass before I get in the shower.
These girls KNOW this will take their careers to the next level. They also know they’ll probably end up dating Leonardo Di Caprio.
Warped. This whole thing is messed up. Anyways. Over it. Not going to watch.
So, Blake and Gwen are a thing, officially.
We’ve talked about this before but I still can’t wrap my head around this couple. I’m sure there are other people wondering what’s going on. The only thing I can think of is that the sex is really good. Isn’t that always the case?
I’m just hoping Blake can convince Gwen to eat a rack of ribs and put some meat on her bones.
Opposites attract, but this is like a Cat and a Dog having Pittens, or Kuppies.
Last night was the 49th Annual Country Music Awards hosted by Brad Paisley and the songstress with hair as gold as the sun, Carrie Underwood.
The show was an enjoyable three hours, with performances from the biggest names in country music – oh, and Justin Timberlake was there, too.
I was going to do a recap of the awards show, but I’ll leave that for the legit news sources. Let’s just talk about the giant divorced elephant in the room: Blake Shelton and Miranda Lambert.
I just have to compose myself. Okay. I think I can do this without crying.
Last night for the first time since their split, Blake and Miranda walked the same red carpet and took to the same stage performing their latest hits. Although Shelton and Lambert maintained that post split, they were determined to stay friends and keep things civil, Shelton threw a major curve ball into those plans. During the awards broadcast, it was confirmed by Gwen Stefani’s rep that she and Blake are indeed dating.
First of all, Blake: What the actual f*ck. Opposites attract, sure but you are literally, ten minutes out of a marriage, and you decide to go public with your co-star, who ALSO just got out of a marriage a hot second ago?
Blake was his jovial, fun loving self the entire night, but Miranda looked visibly less confident than we’ve seen her in the past. After her win for Female Vocalist of the Year, Lambert told the crowd that she, “Needed a bright spot this year” before quickly saying some thank-yous and leaving the stage.
It was #awkward, and the divorce of country’s biggest couple was the hot topic of the night on social media. It was kind of like being at an event or party with all of your friends and you’re just awkwardly watching every move the recently single Prom King and Queen are making, and you’re not quite sure whether you should take sides but after a few drinks you follow your friend to the bathroom and have a cry about what happened and you’re just doing the drunk girl, “He’s a jerk!” over and over.
Miranda, he’s a jerk for going public with his new girlfriend the first time you two are going to see each other. That’s a dick move, right there. The good news is, you’re young, hot as shit, and going to make him regret it.
Anyways, what else can we talk about. I’m already over the Blake and Gwen story. Yeah, yeah, be happy, do you and all that jazz but come on. Did you HAVE to take up with someone both you and your ex knew? You couldn’t go find someone new who’s like, a hair stylist?
I still love you, Blake. But, I’m going to have to go ovaries over bro-varies.
No surprise, Carrie Underwood was the best dressed of the night with her millions of wardrobe changes.
Eye candy was EVERYWHERE. Luke Bryan (swoon in them tight jeans) and Sam Hunt (we all know how I feel) were my top picks for Babes of the Ball.
Sam Hunt didn’t take home any awards, but I’m pretty sure he didn’t go home alone. Look at him. LOOK AT HIS FACE.
I’ll leave you with country stars reading mean tweets. It’s a pretty good giggle!