My Sephora Birthday Mini-Binge, or, when Whoop! becomes Woot!

For the last day of NaBloPoMo, I'd like to move the subject away from dieting and working out. But you deserve a progress report on my fitness level before I discuss important subjects like makeup, shopping, and shameless self-indulgence, so here you go:

The Pie Report

On this last day of November, I tip the scales at a sylph-like 172.6, which, although not great, is slightly better than I deserve, considering the mountains of pie that have taken over my house. (Seriously, my son's girlfriend came over for our Thanksgiving dessert buffet bearing a freshly-baked apple pie, which means we had a total of five pies between eight people. But isn't that adorable?)

At any rate, with regard to pie, I am like the gentleman who, when asked why he climbed Mount Everest, answered "Because it is there." As in, why has Poppy eaten so much pie? BECAUSE IT WAS THERE.

Also, the gym has not really been my thing of late, because my daughter has contracted Pertussis WHOOP! which is the fancy way of saying she has whooping cough. WHOOP! And has been barking like a seal for almost a week. And this means that the entire family is on antibiotics, and I couldn't go to the gym today, WHOOP! because I'm quarantining myself.

So I went on-line shopping. I was determined to use the $20 off a $50 purchase gift card that Sephora sent me because I'm a V.I.B. (I can't remember what those initials stand for. But I think it means I spend too much money at Sephora.)

Anyway, check out the cornucopia of crappe Sephora will be sending me!

This is what I actually bought.

 

Behold the magnificence of the Too Faced Sweet Indulgence Palette ($52.00)

Too Faced Sweet Indulgence Palette

Not that I need sixteen eye shadows, two Blushes, two bronzers, a highlighter, an eye shadow primer, a brush and three instruction cards. But Too Faced's Natural eye palette is one of my favorites, because the colors and textures are gorgeous. So I decided it would be fun to try some more of their products. (My thoughts on the Natural eye palette are here, at the bottom of a long post in which I argue that you really only need four shades of eyeshadow. Irony in action, people!)

The palette costs $52, which got me just over the minimum to use my gift card and qualify for free shipping.

,
Then I cashed in 500 of my Sephora VIB points to get

Sephora Beauty Insider 500 Points--All Day Makeup Set

Which is a collection of various primers and has trial sizes of a few products I've been wanting to try, like Lancome's eyelash primer and Smashbox's face primer. 

And then, because my birthday is next month, I got

Birthday Gift--Fresh Sugar Kisses Mini Lip Duo

and then, using Sephora's LITTLELUX coupon code, I got this

Kat Von D Pouch + 14 samples

 

Plus three more free samples which you can grab every time you check out at Sephora, and really, why stop now?

First Aid Beauty Ultra Repair Cream

 

LADY GAGA FAME

MAKE UP FOR EVER HD Microperfecting Primer

All for $35.25.

It's obviously going to be a Sample-o-rama around here! W00t!

My Sunday Worst

Worth dress in Deep Flint, ancient Caligarius black kid Chanel-style slingbacks with black patent toes; Chanel bag; Hermes bangles (eBay); Chanel necklace

Here I am in my Sunday-go-to-meeting best, except ... not so much.

What we're seeing here is the problem of picking out dresses by trying on other styles in the size you'll need. That's what you have to do when you buy stuff from a friend who is selling clothes for The Carlisle Collection, Doncaster, or Worth New York, and doesn't have the dress in your size.

I mean, yes, it fits. My hips, tum, and bum are all adequately covered. There are no unsightly bulges.  But the combination of the jewel neckline, the color, and the fabric makes the Balcony All Too Apparent.

To divert attention from The Balcony, I piled on tons of high-end accessories and jewelry, but they fail to disguise the failure that is this dress on me. They are, at best, a stop gap. What this dress really needs is a cardigan. Maybe even a coat.

Oh, and by the way. My legs are bare. See what I mean about pantyhose? I'm so pale, I look frostbitten. I went without hose because I was going to be wearing a choir robe, and I thought I'd get too hot with hose on. I carried a pair with me, but I never got around to putting them on, which was too bad for innocent passersby.

Not an Arm Party; more a chance meeting of like-minded friends. Ebayed Hermes bangles and my old Baume & Mercier watch.

Here's a close up of the Hermes bracelets, which I eBayed a while ago in two separate auctions. See how they go together? Let me tell you, finding two coordinating bracelets is quite a coup.

The moral of the story? Even when the Balcony is a matter of deep concern, the way Hermes coordinates the patterns on their printed bracelets continues to be a great satisfaction to me.

Balcony or no Balcony, we'll always have Hermes.

I swear, it took less time to get ready for my wedding.

I spent the evening sitting around with Mr. Buxom. We watched some Netflix DVDs. We drank red wine and ate cheese and crackers and I polished off a few more Thanksgiving leftovers, leaving him breathless with my ability to pack in calories.

To do this, I wore cords, a white shirt, my (inevitable) Tory Burch Simone cardigan, and woolly socks. To chauffeur my children, I added my (just as inevitable) motorcycle boots and Purple Prada Purse. Oh, and the inevitable black leather jacket.

Hey, I repeat stuff a lot, which is one reason I don't include a lot of photographs.

The other is knowing who's really sharp around here.

Tuxedo, Joseph Banks; shirt, cummerbund and tie, Brooks Brothers; studs and cufflinks, c/o Mr. Buxom

Dress, Aidan Mattox; necklace and shoes (invisible) Betsey Johnson, hair by Tony at Pascal Pour Elle; nails by Lucy at Pascal Pour Elle, makeup by Poppy Buxom

What I wore to get indigestion

The Beauty Boomer arranged these flowers with her own white hands.

Did everyone have a lovely Thanksgiving? I hope so.

We weren't hosting a Thanksgiving dinner, yet much cooking occurred. We were doing a potluck with friends, and because no one was coming here, we used the energy we would have spent cleaning up and spent it in the kitchen.

Mr. Buxom baked four pies. Pecan, chocolate cream, apple, and sweet potato. They were all successful. If you check your copy of The Alice's Restaurant Cookbook, you will discover that "sweet potato pie leaves pumpkin pie sitting in the road." This is God's truth, people.

What do you mean, you don't have a copy of The Alice's Restaurant Cookbook? For shame.
Listen, those hippies understood food. They did better by us today than James and Martha Pearl Villas did with My Mother's Southern Kitchen and My Mother's Southern Entertaining.

Today I baked Martha's gingerbread men (except I used a turkey-shaped cookie cutter because it's Thanksgiving.) These were not successful. In fact, they were by far the worst cookies I've ever made. They were agreeably spicy, but not sweet enough to actually qualify as a dessert. Also, they were rock hard. It's my belief that Martha Pearl was overly concerned with gingerbread's use as gingerbread house building material. At any rate, her recipe produced gingerbread that was more drywall than dessert.

After the gingerbread debacle, I baked some butterscotch brownies. And pocketbook rolls. And wild rice salad. And my amazing fattening salad. And Martha Pearl Villas's Party Potatoes, which were extremely tasty.

Then we went to my friend Jeanne's house. She had also prepared vast quantities of food.

We all returned chez Buxom for the pie. And caffeinated beverages and/or alcohol. I had some Grand Marnier. By that point, I fully appreciated Grand Marnier's versatility. It's a drink, but it's also a dessert. And you don't need to cram much of it into an already-protesting belly--a jigger or two is plenty. I like that. It's efficient.

But you want to know what I wore. I repeated an outfit I wore to a luncheon earlier this month. I wore my brown Worth dress with the laser cut back, the Tsubo color blocked heels, and to throw all of you a curve ball, a different necklace. I wore one of those super long Chanel necklaces that you can double or even triple up. This one has pearls, black beads, and double C's.

It was an early birthday present from me to myself. And I'm so grateful to myself, because I love it.

And to cook and serve pie? My Official Preppy Apron.

Before Truth, The Right Fork. Our motto.

And hey--look what else came out of the cupboard.

Semper Preparatus

I know I've ranted recently about wearing pantyhose and how we should all stop judging. But at the end of the day, boy, was I glad to get out of my control tops. I had been asking a lot out of the Spandex.

Here's hoping you ate well and looked splendid!

Elliptical thinking

I spent an unusually long time doing cardio today, and it's not because I was afraid of what Thanksgiving will do to me. No, when your child is at the salon at your gym getting a keratin treatment, and said child has lots of hair, you have time and to spare.

So while I was burning my 620 calories, I found myself pondering a package that arrived recently. It was another goody from Worth New York. Specifically, this:

Not the pants, jacket, or blouse. I mean the cable-knit shrug.

Although this version is olive green, and mine is black.

 Let me tell you, you can spend a LOT of time wondering how the hell you're going to wear a sweater-without-sleeves. Over a dress? Over a long-sleeved black top? Am I going to look like I have a knitting fetish? And then I remind myself that it's fingerless gloves for the Balcony, and I love fingerless gloves.

Another thing I'm thinking about is wide-calf boots. Are they a good thing? J. Crew is offering 25 percent off pretty much anything this week, and I find myself strangely attracted to their wide-calf boots. My calves are 14 inches around. Is that wide enough, or will I end up drowning in boots? Do I want to buy these boots only to look like this?

Honestly. Can you believe what a shallow creature I am? Finery, finery, finery--it's all I think about these days.

My fitness progress this month

1. First, here's a recent picture of me, in which I'm apparently impersonating an ice cream cone. That, people, is what ignoring the rules of figure flattery will do to you. The crew-necked white t-shirt makes me look All Balcony, All The Time. The black capris make my legs look tiny.

If I had any sense, I'd wear the exact opposite color scheme: only dark t-shirts, and only light leggings.

Even if I have to raid a matador's closet to find the latter.

2. I find it astonishing that it feels perfectly normal to work out for an hour with a trainer, then spend 60 minutes on the elliptical.

3. Have you ever flipped through a woman's magazine and cringed at how stupid it made women look? I'm not talking Vogue or Harper's Bazaar with their fashion jargon that only Anna Wintour and Andre Leon Talley truly understand; I mean the deeply embarrassing stuff you find in Glamour and Redbook and Self. The relationship advice and 50 Sexiest Tricks to Try On Your Man. Or the articles that promise to tell you about great fashion finds for under $100, and you pop for the magazine and guess what? The great cheap clothes are shorts and t-shirts.

Well, from time to time I pick up a men's magazine because it renews my faith in humanity to discover that men's magazines are equally stupid.

My latest purchase is this

and I expect it to provide a lot of laughs. How's this for a sample: Food is power. The power to lose weight. The power to build muscle. The power to feel energized.

The power, apparently, to write Dick and Jane sentences. I am man! I want power! Grr!

I plan to read it cover to cover, and about every five pages, I plan to burst into girlish giggles, sounding, if possible, like Wilma Flintstone and Betty Rubble. But I'll let you know if I find out anything useful.

4. OK, I'll admit it. These Tory Burch pants looked a little stupid when I bought them. They don't look like this at all. Maybe they're straight legged in a small size, but in a large size, they keep the nine-inch leg opening at the ankle, but add all kinds of extra material in the upper thigh. They taper so much, they're vaguely reminiscent of stirrup pants. And that's when I first bought them. Now, they sag and bag so much in the derriere, they look like a before picture in a Depends ad. Kim Kardashian and J. Lo are weeping at the sight of my ass in these pants, but their tears are of laughter.

Still, having my new, relatively spendy pants falling off my ass is progress.

5. I decided that for a change of pace, I really wanted to get below 170 by Thanksgiving, but I keep falling victim to the Domino's iPhone app. True story.

Overcoming Inertia, Part II: Practice

This post is a follow-up to yesterday's, where, in a rather long-winded fashion (as is my wont) I eventually made a point (I hope). Which is this: you know you're serious about an activity when you feel the need to pull together a working wardrobe for it. And over the course of about six months where I spent four to six hours at the gym, this is what happened to me.

Eventually I replaced my washed-out Smith College and Boston Red Sox t-shirts with plain shirts that don't plaster lettering all over The Balcony. My long sweatpants, baggy capris, and (I kid you not) velour track suits have also disappeared. The brown, navy, black shades have been replaced with black, gray, and white.

These are the things I like. Except for shoes, I have at least three of everything on this list, so there is always something clean to wear.

1. Shock Absorber Maximum Control Wire Free Sports Bra

Whether I'm doing a Jillian Michael's DVD or working with my trainer, it's wise to dress like a runner who is planning on running a marathon during an earthquake. 

These bras provide Level 4 compression/lack of bounce.

It looks a little odd, but I think the double two-hook closure makes a difference. This baby is jumping jacks-ready! It's available at Her Room and Bare Necessities for $69. (Her Room has some bright colored ones on sale for $49, and Bare Necessities is currently offering 15 percent off.)

Gap Essential Scoop Neck T-Shirt

These t-shirts are a little more low-cut than I'd usually wear to the gym, but no one is looking at my cleavage, and it does help me stay cool.

The cotton is a nice, thick weight, and the fit is loose without being baggy. I previously mentioned buying seven of these using Gap Rewards gift cards. I'm thrilled to have a nice stack of new t-shirts. This shirt only comes in black, white, and gray (for the fashion-forward.) $14.50.

Victoria's Secret Supermodel Capris

Yes, Victoria's Secret. And don't think I don't feel a little silly shopping there.

These capris come with a variety of colored waistbands. Not surprisingly, I opt for the black-on-black style. I wear them higher than the model; they fit right under my navel and end higher on the leg. The fit in the leg is perfect; not skin tight, but not baggy. There is a slight flare at the bottom which looks cute and probably allows some extra ventilation. They wash and dry well, and unlike the ones I got from Athletica, they don't end up a snarling, static-y mess when I pull them out of the dryer. These are available for $59.50.

Puma footies

I got so tired of various minor variations in the style and weight of my sports socks. I kept not noticing the differences when I paired them when I was folding laundry, and ending up heading out wearing mismatched socks.

I chucked them all and replaced them with two six packs of footies.

Cross Trainers

I have  two pairs, and I alternate them. They say you should alternate dress shoes every day, and I figured it can't hurt to alternate sports shoes. The Reeboks are slightly wider through the arch, but the Nikes fit better in the heel.

That's it!

I work out indoors in a gym, so I pretty much wear the same thing year round. I add a sweatshirt in really cold weather, but I drive to the gym, so I don't really need to worry about dressing for the weather.

I'm in the market for a really good gym bag, though, so if anyone has any suggestions, comment away!

Overcoming Inertia, Part I: Theory

When I was in graduate school, a professor of mine ran a short seminar every quarter. He called it "How to write a paper for Mr. Veeder." All of his students attended--undergrads and grad students alike--and it was the finest--and shortest presentation on how to write well that I've ever heard.

One of these days, when I'm tired of talking about lipstick, I'll get around to sharing some of Mr Veeder's insights. For now, though, I'm just going to talk about one of them.

According to Veeder, when you write, your goal should be to overcome reader inertia. You want to keep the reader turning pages. When he reaches the bottom of page 3, you want his first instinct to be to proceed to page 4, not to get up and see what's on TV, or (my personal favorite) to check to see whether the mail has been delivered.

When it comes to inertia, a professor faced with a stack of student papers to read has nothing on the average, out-of-shape American. We who are out of shape have developed many reasons to avoid working out. We're too busy. We're embarrassed. We don't have the time. We don't know Pilates from Zumba because we haven't worked out regularly since Jane Fonda was churning out aerobics tapes.

Let me steal a concept from another man whose oeuvre I admire. If David Letterman were to come up with a "Top 10 Reasons to Not Work Out," I might be OK with "I can't fit it into my day." Or "The wall of flat screens running CNN is distracting and annoying."

On the other hand, I wouldn't want "I don't have anything to wear" to appear on the list.

After a few months of going to the gym pretty steadily, I was tired of grabbing one of my collection of faded Red Sox t-shirts and stretched out, mismatched shorts. I realized that I didn't just need to buy new gym clothes, I wanted to. I liked the idea of having a lot of well-fitting, comfortable, coordinated, attractive, and functional gym clothes clean, folded, and ready to throw on and head to the gym.

At some point, new work out clothes stopped being a silly extravagance and started being a sensible use of my money. Working out wasn't some passing phase. I was spending about 10 hours a week at the gym, and I'd been doing it for six months. I was becoming an athlete. And it was time I started dressing like one.

Henry David Thoreau once said "Beware of all enterprises that require new clothes." Well, Henry David Thoreau can kiss my spandex-covered ass.

Shiny!

Fitness isn't pretty.

Once more, I waited to start blogging until I was completely brain dead.

So I'll leave you with this picture of me, taken just after today's attempt at Level 2 of Jillian Michael's 30 Day Shred. Bright sunlight (see the shadow of my iPhone?) and no makeup. And as Mal says on Firefly, "Shiny!"

You know what? I figured out what the Mona Lisa's smile means. Someone told her "Horses sweat; men perspire; ladies glow."

And she thought, "O RLY?"

Because that?

Was a pretty intense 20 minutes, my friends.

What's with all the wacky mascara brushes?

Has anyone else noticed that if you're shopping for a new mascara, it's likely to packaged in a very fat, Crayon-colored tube with a brush that looks like a specialty cleaning tool?

My favorite mascara is my (relatively) old school L'Oreal double ended. One end has that white stuff that makes your lashes look way thicker after you top the white stuff with the colored end. And this particular L'Oreal formula claims to make your lashes healthier. Well, guess what, internet? It's true. My lashes are actually longer and thicker.

The only problem is that my daughter somehow absconded with my tube. Which is highly unhygienic of her, so I told her so. She countered by reminding me that I haven't given her conjunctivitis, which is true. Then she offered to give me back the tube. But I don't want it back now. It is now hers to keep. I mean, she's my daughter, but honestly, I'd rather share her toothbrush. Which is saying a lot.

So anyway, in my search for a replacement, I've been digging through my stash of untrieds. Some were freebies from blogging events, some were travel sizes from GWPs, some arrived in Birchbox or Sample Society shipments.

And most of them were meh.

To start with the most offensive (because I actually paid retail for it) I present

 

 Dior Diorshow Extase Mascara in Plum

This was part of last summer's Nordstrom Anniversary Sale offerings. This collection was all about the purples, so the shade is Plum.

Now, mostly I eschew colored mascara. I'm constantly trying to stifle my inner teenaged girl ("Ooooh! Purple!") and not always succeeding. I realize that Women of a Certain Age can't get away with much in the way of outlandish makeup, but this was an extremely subtle shade of purple. I thought I'd try it to see whether it was softer than black, and flattering to my green eyes.

Well. Not only is it kind of meh in color, it neither lengthens nor thickens substantially. Also, the brush is shaped very strangely. See how it looks like a tiny black bottle brush? I'm sure this is supposed to do something fantastic, but all it did was apply the mascara unevenly.

Lancome Définicils

This is one of those tried-and-true, Allure and InStyle magazine Best-Of winners, so that was my next try. And it is a great mascara for those of us with not-very-long, not-very-thick wispy, insubstantial lashes. Applied lightly, it beefs those babies up and looks great.

Also, it comes in a long, elegant tube and has a normal brush. Both of which are to the good.

The problem lies in its half-life, which approaches plutonium. If I wear it on Monday and remove it Monday night, I wake up with black smudges when I wake up on Tuesday. And Wednesday. And even Thursday.

And so my search continued. Check back tomorrow for Poppy's attempts to replace her beloved L'Oreal Double Extend with another drugstore mascara.

*****

(I have to finish this tomorrow because I'm wiped. I had a fantastic workout today. I did weights and cardio with my trainer, then burned 550 calories on the elliptical. I even came home and took pictures of myself in my workout clothes so I could show you how badly I dress when I'm going to the gym. But now I'm exhausted. This getting up before 6:00 and exercising is wiping me out. It's like I got to my second childhood 20 years early!)

ZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzz ...

Pantyhose: What's with all the hate?

No bare legs for our Kate!

An article in the New York Times caught my eye today, and as soon as I read it, I started rejoicing. Here's a link to "For Pantyhose, It's Back To Work."

Pantyhose ... acceptable again? Even more radical, pantyhose back in style? Have you seen the drubbing pantyhose have been taking in the fashion press for the past 10 years? Nude hose are easily the old lady-est part of my wardrobe. They make my elastic waist Eileen Fisher pants look younger than springtime. How could pantyhose come back into style?

But when you think about it, it makes sense. Anything seriously out of fashion is sure to come back in. Dresses, Mad Men-era silhouettes, "lady" coats, and closed-toe pumps have made a comeback. Why shouldn't pantyhose?

After all, we all know that old saw you hear about the weather: if you wait long enough, it's sure to change. Well, the weather has nothing on fashion. Fashion just takes longer.

Here's how the article opens:

THIS fall, Elisa Dahan is favoring a ladylike silhouette, including body-conscious dresses from Phillip Lim and D&G pencil skirts, all worn with a new favorite accessory: hosiery. “You suddenly have flawless legs without having to do anything,” said Ms. Dahan, 33, a Montreal-based mother of two and co-designer of Mackage, a brand of downtown chic outerwear.

See what's going on here? This woman is a fashion designer, for God's sake, and she supports pantyhose. (Hee!)

And hello, I could have told her about the "suddenly flawless legs." Pantyhose instantly cover up veins, freckles, moles, hair follicles, and crepey flesh. They can make your legs look smooth and tan, even if you haven't shaved/waxed lately, used self-tanner, or been to the beach. They get rid of jiggle. If you have any tendency towards chub rub, they'll take care of that. They can be self-effacing or the focal point of your outfit. They double as girdles. They can even make shoes more comfortable.  

Madge has known all this for years.

What's bad about them? OK, they can be hot. If they don't fit correctly, they can be miserably uncomfortable. And of course, they run. And you really have to stay away from the drugstore brands. L'Eggs Suntan is of the devil. And then there was this time when a pair I was wearing spontaneously decided to fall off my body. No, I don't know how that happened, either.

But here's the thing. If you're a day or two past your last shave and you're a little pale, what's faster, easier, and cheaper?

1. Pulling on a pair of pantyhose

or

2. Waxing/shaving your legs; tanning/self-tanning/applying leg makeup

But don't listen to me; listen to the smartypants at the New York Times. And Dr. Patricia Wexler, who has been getting quoted in Allure for over 20 years:

But in a season when the fashion spotlight is on the leg, hosiery is finding a new generation of fans who don’t view stockings as a necessary evil mandated by office dress codes and social mores, but as a bona fide style choice with long-forgotten cosmetic powers. “It’s like that old trick cameramen use, putting a Wolford stocking over the lens to soften the look of skin,” said Dr. Patricia Wexler, a New York dermatologist who treats the fashion elite. “Except you’re actually putting it on the leg.”

No kidding. Just imagine--pantyhose actually have a purpose! They weren't invented merely to torment us!

Next thing you know, someone will realize that bras hold your breasts up. And water is wet. 

And wait until you hear this: pantyhose are new and improved:

Softer yarns, new knitting techniques (more open weaves and seamless finishes), and other innovations (like micro-encapsulated moisturizers) have made putting on and wearing hosiery a more pleasurable experience, companies say. “These are not the uncomfortable, tourniquet-type stockings women couldn’t wait to take off,” said Cathy Volker, executive vice president of global licensing for Donna Karan, which in September began selling the first new line of stockings the company had introduced to the marketplace in 10 years. Called Evolution, the line (priced at $28 a pair) features graduated compression, meaning the amount of pressure on the leg is greatest at the ankle and calf and decreases as the stocking moves upward. 

So please, ladies. Give pantyhose another chance. Or at least, don't roll your eyes when you see me wearing them.

Can't we all just get along?

Shopping and eating and *not* working out, or, several deadly sins

Internet! Thanks for all the compliments and good wishes. I wish I could return the favor by continuing to be inspiring, but today was about self-indulgence. One might even say today was about full-on sinning.

First, there was my appalling sloth. Please note the time in this loving exchange I had this morning with Mr. Buxom. (I'm the one in blue.)

Following breakfast, I indulged in some avarice.

I recently decided that the Gap Essential Scoop Neck tee is my favorite style.

The cotton is substantial, it shows enough clavicle to keep me from looking like Mae West in an inflatable life jacket, and it's a lot cheaper than the Nordstrom and Talbot's tee-shirts that are cluttering up my drawers.

So I decided to buy some--in black, gray, and white. It occurred to me that I had a pile of Gap Card Rewards to use up. Then it turned out that the Gap was having its friend and Families sale and everything in the store was 30 percent off.  What with my gift cards and the discount and the free shipping for purchases over $50, I ended up scoring seven $14.95 tee-shirts for $24.70. And I chortled like some crazy combination of Becky Bloomwood and Ebenezer Scrooge as I realized I had paid a bit more than 3.00 a shirt.

Then I took my daughter shopping because she needs a long dress for a formal dance she'll be going to later this month. We did very well at Bloomingdale's, where a sale was in progress. She tried on six dresses and looked stunning in every single one. Honestly, if I tried on six evening dresses and looks that good in all of them, I'd drag Mr. Buxom to every black tie event in Chicago. At any rate, she picked out one that I can't find anywhere, but it's lovely and age-appropriate and I was filled with maternal pride.

Say hello to Blue Blood

After helping my daughter in and out of so many dresses, I celebrated by stopping by the Estee Lauder counter, because some of the new nail polish shades filled me with an ungovernable lust. 

and Viper

Of course, I don't need to go into detail about the dinner I ate when I got home, right? Red wine, crackers with blue cheese, Korean spicy Sashimi, and the Hot Night Roll? Not to mention the Starbucks Peppermint Mocha and the birthday cake pop?

Trust me; it was a symphony in greed.

Luckily for me, tomorrow is another day!

p.s. A word to the wise: did you know that a Starbucks Cake Pop has 170 calories? It's so tiny and so caloric, you might as well be eating fudge.

The two-party system is fattening.

I weigh in on Tuesdays now, and this morning, I was delighted to tip the scales at a mighty 171.6. This means I currently weigh less than I have since 2005 or some such. And that I could weigh 160-something by Thanksgiving.

I'm losing weight at a rate of less than a half pound a week, which is healthy and prudent and allows me to eat and drink as much like a normal person as possible. But at times, the process feels as slow and tedious and mind-numbing as a descriptive passage by Anthony Trollope. Maybe even Henry James.

At any rate, I was all calloo, callay this morning, so I decked myself out in my new cute color-blocked cashmere dress.

Magaschoni Colorblock Cashmere Dress

Which I bought recently, and is now on sale for $139.

Anyway, I voted, and then I went to a ladies' luncheon at a ladies' club in Chicago, where I inhaled everything they served me. I really intended to have some broth or something for dinner.

And I stuck to my resolution and fed the kids and sat down in front of the television to watch election returns.

Well, honestly, who knew that Presidential elections were so fattening? I sat there and listened to the talking heads, switching from ABC (where Diane Sawyer looked great) to Fox (where I was extremely disturbed by Megyn Kelly's helmet head) to MSNBC (where I tried to tell whether Rachel Maddow was wearing false eyelashes). Hey, this is gripping stuff, people! 

But no matter what I watched, Messieurs Obama and Romney acted like a pair of groundhogs and refused to come out and give their speeches.

Meanwhile, I ate the leftover pasta carbonara and broccoli, then started to wolf down every disgusting snack in the house. I ate Junior Mints and Cheddar Flavored Sun Chips and Amstel Lite and a Skinny Cow Fudge Bar and an entire punnet of fresh strawberries.

I'm not going anywhere near a scale tomorrow, because I know I'll have gained five pounds. and I blame the United States Constitution in general, and the electoral college in particular.

When an X becomes an O

Here's the thing about midlife--basically, aging in general. You think you know yourself, but you keep finding out that you're wrong.

Take the way I describe myself as a brunette, when the brown has been courtesy of my hairdresser for over 15 years. Or the way I think I'm super pale, when I'm actually not the palest possible shade of foundation any more. (Years of accumulated sun damage will do that.)

And here's the latest curve ball Mother Nature has thrown me: I think that I'm an X, when I'm actually an O.

OK, let me explain. According to Mary Duffy, who wrote The HOAX Fashion Formula, women have four body types:

• H bodies go straight up and down, with little curve at the waist
• O bodies also carry their weight in the waistline, but their hips are actually smaller than their waists
• A bodies are the classic pear shape--small upper body and waist with full hips, thighs, and buttocks
• X bodies are the classic hourglass: basically the same size on top and bottom

Because I have a balcony and hips, for years, X was my category. Now? Well, I'm trying to solve The Case of the Disappearing Waistline.

Here I am at 5'7" and 172, after two hours at the gym where I worked hard at burning off the Crisco I'm hiding not too successfully under my too-tight t-shirt.

I'll have you know that in the elliptical portion of this morning's workout, I burned 520 calories.

Not that you can tell. 

I may or may not have had a pineapple/orange/banana/whey protein smoothie. So let's say I did, and that accounts for some of the midriff bulge.

Here's a front view, where I'm demonstrating that if you want to look thinner, you should angle your body, rather than pose with both shoulders and both hips square to the camera.

On the other hand, if you want to show the world your midriff bulge, facing the camera straight on is an excellent idea.

So here I am, trying to figure out what I am, now that I'm obviously no longer an X. Since my hips aren't smaller than my so-called waist, I can't be an O.  It looks like until get rid of this extra chunk through my middle, I'm no longer an X, I'm an H. And that means everything I've learned in the past 35 years about what silhouettes flatter me? Is now obsolete.

This is right up there with the realization that my hair is actually gray.

Weekend update

This was not a great weekend on the diet and fitness front. My sister and niece were visiting so I couldn't spend my time working out and drinking whey protein smoothies.

On Friday night, I demolished the bread basket at Rosebud on Rush, drank two Manhattans, and ordered one of those dishes where you look at the menu and there's a salad with a few ingredients, and all you see is ARUGULA but when it shows up it turns out it's all about the FRIED EGGPLANT. Also MOZZARELLA. With a measly, garnish-sized allotment of arugula, as a sop to the groundlings.

Saturday wasn't horrible because we went to a college open house in the south loop and walked for blocks and blocks. So I wasn't at the gym, but I wasn't sitting on the sofa watching a Hoarders marathon and eating chips straight out of the bag.

The open house had a free lunch that featured sandwiches and a delicious potato salad (BAD) but also skewers of fresh fruit, so OK, whatever.

Also my breakfasts where pure as the driven. Shredded wheat, banana, skim milk, and unicorn blood. (What? Just seeing if you're paying attention.)

On the bright side I worked out like crazy on Friday and will again on Monday. And I had a great visit with my sister and niece.

You know what? The only thing harder than two hours at the gym is blogging every day about fitness. I don't know how these healthy living bloggers do it. How do they keep people interested? I'm boring myself, for God's sake.

Do you think A&E is running any Hoarders episodes at the moment?

Random like a number

Hey everybody, no real time to post, so I'll just throw stuff at you.

1. You know you're losing weight when you wonder why your underpants feel so tight and realize you're wearing your 15-year-old daughter's.

2. I took some measurements today. The fattest part of my thigh is eight inches bigger than Scarlett O'Hara's waist. For those of you who haven't read GWTW lately, that's 25 inches. Internet, never mess with me. Or I will crush you between my giant thighs.

3. Somewhere in my desk there exists a small stash of diet journals, kept mostly to:

(Pick one)

a.  make me feel bad
b.  inspire me
c.  record various lower-calorie recipes I've devised over the years.

In one of them, I found the lowest weight I've been as an adult. It's 143 pounds.

That was 21 years ago.

4. I went to one of those clothing sales where your girlfriend fills a room with racks of clothes and you find things you like, but they're never in your size, so you try on other stuff to get a feel for how things will fit. I ordered two pairs of pants because they were a size 12.

 5. My sister is in town with my niece to visit the open house at Columbia College. There will be visiting and partying and possibly some shopping, and I'm doing my best to remember that at 95 calories, Amstel Light is my new best friend.

Happy weekend, everybody!

What I bought--and what I returned

Banana Republic's tailored non-iron sateen shirt 

I know I sound like a shopaholic these days, but there's a good reason for it. I really need new clothes.

Since June, I've been working out with a trainer at least twice a week. The rest of the time, I've been on the elliptical. Or doing Jillian Michael's 30 Day Shred. Or running. (OK, that last? Twice. But it counts.)

I've also been tracking my food. (More or less-ish. I've been tracking the same foods for so long, I kind of have a good idea of how much I'm eating.) And I'm weighing myself at least once a week, so I'll know if the weight loss stops or reverses itself.

I'm now at 172 pounds, which is less than I weighed the last time I wasted the internet's time by blogging about weight loss. And my clothes have gotten too big. So I've really needed to buy new stuff.

The thing is, I'm nine years older than I was the last time I weighed this much, and I've ... how should I put this delicately, in case my daughter's classmates are still reading my blog ... forded the Red Sea.

Oh, yeah. THAT was subtle.

Anyway, what with my plunging levels of female hormones, I'm afraid I've developed something of a menopot.

Actually, my problem is more midriff bulge. Which is not something I had bothered my pretty little head about much, until I tried to button the new shirts I ordered from Banana Republic and discovered that while they fit well over the balcony, below that, I was asking an awful lot out of the Spandex.

Nobody talks about midriff bulge any more, but when you're as old as I am, you know that muffin top is nothing new. I remember seeing ads for Playtex Long Line 18 hour bras when I was a kid.



Not to disrespect Jane, because heaven knows, she rocked in Gentleman Prefer Blondes,  but I don't want to wear a longline bra.

But I'll need to wear one if I'm going to be able to button Banana Republic's Stretch Shirt of Evil.

I might even need to wear two.

It's just as evil in navy blue.

P.S. I've decided it's time to bore the internet again with my thoughts on fitness, diet, and My Waistline: Gone, Or Just Forgotten?

So I've agreed to blog about it every day for the month of November, for a second crack at NaBloPoMo.

---
Elsewhere:

See Pamela Peeke, M.D.'s article here if you want a quick guide to menopots, how we get them and how to get rid of them.

On LiveStrong: How do I lose midriff weight?

On Women's Health: The Five Rules of Flat Abs (an annoying slide show, but with good info.)