The Perfect Pink Lips. Are We Obsessed?

I recently read an article titled, "How to get the perfect pink lips." What I want to know is, who is sitting around obsessed about how to achieve this? To my surprise there's plenty of people. If you Google the words "perfect pink lips," you'll get a result of about 750,000. I don't know who to blame. Is it the poor writer who was forced to write an aritcle on pink shades of lipstick or the idiotic reader who actually cares about it? I vote idiotic reader.

Now obsessions don't just stop at lips. They're spread across all levels of our life. The perfect legs, the perfect teeth, the perfect boobs, the perfect toes, the perfect mane of hair, the perfect butt, the perfect eyebrows and the perfect nose.

Where do we get our obsessions? Is it brainwashing techniques by media conglomerates that create obsessive consumers, which in-turn become long-term, loyal, debt-ridden, blinded mall rats? And if the media is not to be blamed, then are we as women genetically predisposed to be insecure about ourselves?

If there were no magazines, no run way shows, no fashion weeks, no "America's Next Top Model," no "Cover Girls" and no articles on how to "get rid of cellulite" - would we all be different? Would women be less self-conscious? Would we be stronger, more self-confident and intelligent over-achievers?

A girlfriend of mine argued that even before all the media hype, women were still as obsessive. She said that even 16th century art glorified the female figure and exposed women's bodies as objects to admire. She wasn't arguing that it was right or wrong but that it's been a prevalent occurence throughout history. She asked me if the Mona Lisa would be as famous if she had a mole or blemish. 
What about the Winged Victory of Samothrace? Did you see any cellulite on that perfectly sculpted female body? (I had to look that up when I got home.) And has anyone seen the sculpture  of Aphrodite of Cnidus? That was made in 4th century B.C. and her tits look silicone implants.

Okay, so my friend is a bit wound up and needs a vacation but I get the point - that maybe it's just us. Maybe women were born this way. Maybe it's the discovery and awareness of the power that lies in our sexuality, our beauty and our bodies. It affects the way we walk, talk, laugh, dance, make love and live. Once, we as women, understand and gain this power, we obsess about how to get more of it. We obsess over other women who have it. We obsess over how much we have as opposed to how much "they" have.

Then there is the tragic obsessions and the tragic beauties like Marilyn Monroe. Her obsessions hindered her from maintaining a long-lasting relationship and a foundation for security; and yet she is now the object of obsession and revered as a beauty icon.

A Love Letter to My Guurrrrllllzzz

There comes a point in your life when you realize who really matters, who never did, and who always will. Today, I had a surge of love for those I cherish and call “my girlfriends.” 

My life has been blessed and I’m thankful for everything anyone could ever ask for and more, like my fabulous personality and god-given hotness. But besides all the great things I have in life – there are also the hiccups. The curve balls God throws at you and tests your will. He threw me that curve ball recently. Not to say I didn’t help him with the pitch but it still took me by surprise. Yes, of course it's about a man! When isn't it about a man?

After this situation, I feel like a spitball stuck in mid-air with no direction, no one to gross out and hit in the face, and not a single glass of coke to plop into. Not having something to aim at; not having something to look forward to; and not having a safety net to catch me when I finally do fall. But the truly amazing thing is that I'm not at all depressed. I’m still smiling and doing okay thanks to my girlfriends.

We may not be the overly ambitious and successfully annoying besties like Oprah and Gayle; but we are so the aloof and alluring Penelope and Salma. Anyway being cuter is so much more fun than being two old, stubborn bats fighting to rule the world. 

I’m sorry I don’t call you all the time; but I'm thankful that you know I rather have my toenails pulled out with pliers than sit and chit-chat on that tumor inducing mobile. I love you for texting me and not calling me.

I’m sorry I always forget your birthday. I swear I forgot my own birthday 2 years ago! My brain doesn't like annual holidays, birthdays and anniversaries. Maybe I'm a man. Maybe I'm like Madonna. I mean do you think Madonna really remembers Gwyneth’s birthday?



Can I tell you something? I love when we’re in public and we look at each other, then bust out laughing even when there’s NOTHING funny going on! We’re just stupid like that and it’s that laugh - the one that comes from the pit of your stomach and makes you cry. 


I love that you can scream me about a topic you're passionate about and debate it till your blue in the face but stop all of a sudden and say “damn I’m hungry. What about you?” 
I love that I can act 12 years old and you don’t judge me. You let me be as dumb or as goofy as I want to be. I love that you stoop to my level!! Until the goofiness goes overboard and of course we have to leave the restaurant because we’ve just embarrassed ourselves. 

Even if I've talked your ear off the night before, you'll still call me the next morning for breakfast and still eager to listen, even if I feel like I already said too much. You allow me to say all the things my heart has been barred from saying. 

I could go on and on about how much my life has been touched and changed forever. But I'm going to stop and ask you for just one favor. Don't forget me - ever. Put me in the back of your conscience -- somewhere that I can exist forever and be a part of you. So, if we're ever seperated by distance, we'll still be together.

Bad Boys, Bad Boys...Wachya Gonna Do?

The one thing men should know is that alot of women don't fall for a man because of his looks or clothes. It's the aura of a man that allures us and traps us. The more aloof a man is, the more magnetic and appealing he becomes. The "bad boy" is an emotionally complex, unavailable, inconsistent, non-committal and confusing man. This doesn't seem the least bit attractive, yet it is.

Maybe the women who want bad boys are self-destructive; maybe they long for someone to love; or maybe they've watched one too many movies where the bad boy finally changes for the woman he loves.

Hollywood has long been the cheerleader for the brooding bad boy who challenges everyone until he meets "her". That one girl offers him unconditional love in the middle of his emotional and physical turmoil (even through abuse) and he ends up realizing how much he loves her and....blah blah blah...happily ever after.

I also think alot of women want to be rescued. Whether saviour from being lonely, poor, insecure or depressed. They might be disillusioned to believe it will all change with the love of a man. A bad boy seems to fit the Hollywood stereotype of a romantic hero a bit more than an average Joe.

I don't know the reasons behind why women pursue bad boys. Even with the problems and difficulties they know they'll face, they still fall into the chase. And if you're in the middle of pursuit - Can you snap out of it if you're in it? Or do you have to go through it and get hurt to get over it?

I'd love to know how the female mind works, especially when she knows she's about to be hurt but willingly steps into it. 

Society's Scary Obsession with Skinny

I consider myself to be an educated, modern, strong and independent woman. But I have a dirty little secret. Something I'm very ashamed about. I'm obsessed with skinny girls. I love watching runway shows where the super skinny models romp around in skimpy clothes with pale faces and gaps between their knees.

I envy them and would trade bodies in a heartbeat. I don't hate myself, not even close. So if you're not judging me yet, can I admit another horrible habit of mine? My favorite past-time that helps feed into my obsession includes scouring through cheap tabloid magazines to look at the celebrities, their fashion and figures.

Can I sit here and blame the media? Sure. But I can also blame myself, my upbringing, my confidence, my habits, my intelligence, my inner strength or lack there of. 

I mean in this world girls aren't brought up like boys. While boys call each other up and say "let's go play ball"; girls call each other up and say "let's go do our nails!" There's a big difference in how girls spend their time, even when they grow up into women. Most of my girlfriends meet up at a restaurant or at the mall. The most extreme activity might include the spa.


I love working out. I love the gym. I love being outside and running or walking. I love swimming. I love many activities; however I do them ALONE. So then comes the struggle of splitting my time between, work, friends, boyfriend, and the gym.


Men are different. It's easier for them to physically active because they can combine it with their friends. Men play football together, basketball together, they surf together, they play squash together, they scuba dive together, they go fishing together, and they even play video games together.

If women combined physical activity in their get-togethers, they wouldn't have as many issues with body image, confidence, and time management. Maybe I'm not making sense anymore. 

There has to be a larger reason as to why I feel this way, as do millions of others, which includes young girls who are sadly hurting themselves to get skinny.