When Good Makeup Goes Bad

You all know I love my cosmetics as much as the next girl, but at least I'm lucky enough to not have those pesky media people following me around waiting for me to have an off day. Take a look at some of the following pictures:

Christina is always an obvious target. I don't think I've ever actually seen a picture of her doing the natural look. It's one thing to be obviously over the top, like Lady Gaga, but poor Crusty the Singer considers this an everyday glamour look. I had a home hair cutting accident once that left me with bangs like that too, so maybe she's trying to take the focus off that hideous forehead fringe.

Pam, it's time for bifocals or those glasses with the flip down lens that help women our age see what the hell they're doing while applying makeup. I would also recommend applying makeup in a well lit room. Make up after forty needs to pass the bright sunlight test. If you think you look good, double check your face in the visor mirror of your car at noon. That's how the rest of the world sees you, not how you see yourself in the kind lighting of your dressing room.

And for God's sake, get a real hairdresser. I saw your reality show, quit doing your own hair color. That made you just like the rest of us for about five seconds. Then we all woke up and realized that we thankfully have never slept with Tommy Lee. Stop giving your money to PETA and go save a hair stylist.

Okay, besides the lazy eye (hate when this happens in photos), this is way too old of a look for Katy Perry. She's so retro fabulous in a cute way with her red lips and eyeliner, but some Good Old Days Of Hollywood obsessed makeup guru is trying to make her look like his favorite vintage movie star. I'll bet it's the same one that keeps making Drew Barrymore look like Marilyn Monroe.

Why would you be married to David Beckham and look this angry? I see the same makeup artist as above got hold of Victoria as well. Red lipstick either totally works for you or totally doesn't. And why would you contour an already hollow face?

Some of you are probably wondering who the hell this is. Me too. Her name is Katie Price and she's a model/famous person's about to be ex-wife/skank from Great Britain. She's all over the news there for...I'm not sure what. In case you were wondering, the breasts are (gasp) man made. But the good news is that each one is as large as her head. That's the only good news here. Besides being oompah loompah spray tan orange, which is one shade lighter than Lindsay Lohan orange, but slightly darker than Mariah Carey orange, she has that bizarre all eyes/no lips sort of look that only Eastern European runway models look good in.

That's all I can take for today. I've saved dozens of pictures for future posts, but there is just too much good material out there. After looking at all this I have an urge to go scrub my face.

Love and Kisses,

Cult Diva

Lash Crack 'Ho

After waiting for months, I finally got the call yesterday that my vials of Latisse had arrived at my favorite Valdosta hangout, Azalea Center for Plastic Surgery. They had run a special a few months back offering two bottles for the price of one, and you know I wasn't about to let that slip past me. You know I can't resist any product that promises me flirtier lashes.

Latisse is the new wonder FDA approved prescription lash enhancer. According to their site, the product will make your lashes longer, thicker, and darker while you are using it. It takes about sixteen weeks for the maximum effects to be achieved, but Christy (my skin goddess) told me that I would notice a huge difference after about four. God knows her lashes now look like feather dusters.

You apply it at night, after washing your face and removing all eye makeup. If you wear contacts, they need to come out too. You place one drop of Latisse on the little brush applicator and run it along your lash line like eye liner. Christy mentioned that you use it once a day only, using it more frequently will NOT make it work twice as fast.


That girl knows me too well. I couldn't wait to get my hands on those precious little vials. Mascara is my crack, I must have eight tubes of it in my makeup kit/extra large tackle box. I do wear false eyelashes occasionally, but I have never really mastered the art of putting them on myself.




Latisse is made by Allergan, the same company that produces one of my other favorite drugs of choice, Botox. The next biggest product coming from Allergan will be a topical cream form of Botox--at least that's the buzz I hear from the last Dermatology/Aesthetics conference held in Las Vegas. The product will only be available in physician's office and application is done by trained personnel only.



God know if they sent it home with anyone, they would end up looking like Marie Osmond.




I'll be posting again about my new lashes in a month from today. We'll look at new pictures,which hopefully will be better than the one above. I doubt I'll be able to give up my various thickening and lengthening mascaras, but I'm curious to see how this product work. It's getting raves from the lucky bitches that were able to get their hands on it early--I had to wait almost a month and a half as there was such a backlog of orders.


Have a great weekend!




Love and Kisses,


Cult Diva

These Are A Few Of My Favorite Things

Good God, it's just raining hot men here in South Georgia!

This latest video from Lady Gaga's single "Paparazzi" stars Alexander Skarsgard and the sexy pop star in a "mini-movie" format that I loved. It's an odd pairing, but I love them both together in this.

This man looks sexy no matter where or what you put him in.

Enjoy!

Love and Kisses,

Cult Diva

Wide-On Of The Week: Ryan Kwanten

Wide-On noun. A slang term describing female sexual interest.
Ex: I get a total wide-on every time I see Ryan Kwanten on screen.

This week's wide-on was brought to my attention by Mrs. Coconut of The Coconut Diaries.
She suggested last week that Ryan's character, Jason Stackhouse, on HBO's "True Blood", could kick Alexander Skarsgard's ass in the masculine beauty category any day of the week. I must say in all fairness, Ryan has the most perfect ass I have seen in quite a while.


In trying to be a kinder, less tacky Cult Diva, I will not call attention to his Australian heritage by using any combination of the words "thunder" or "down under". Having dated my way through several Australian and New Zealand rugby players in my wild youth, I must say that men from the Southern Hemisphere are amazingly endowed with many gifts that they enjoy sharing very much and very often.

God love them.

I did find a few pictures for you all to salivate over. However for the real deal, you'll have to tune into "True Blood" to see Ryan's character truly in his best light. As the town stud, he gets some in almost every episode, which makes me wonder if there is a Jason Stackhouse equivalent in my dull little town...hmmmm.


Have a lovely weekend,

Love and Kisses,

Cult Diva



Last week's Wide-On:



Alexander Skarsgard

We Don't Need To Share Everything

One of my personal parenting goals has always been to have completely open communication with my offspring. I think we all have some sort of warm, fuzzy, made for TV movie playing in our subconscious mind of what our family is like and I like to portray myself as the compassionate and understanding matriarch. A mother whose children can come to her with all their problems and talk openly about any subject with her, knowing that she will always understand and be able to solve their youthful dilemmas with humor and love. Sort of like the Waltons, or the Cosby show.

If this is your dream of parenting then you need to just get over it. All that warm compassion and understanding has led to me raising a child that lacks an "inside his head" voice. I wanted a child that grew up to be open and not shame filled about his body or sexuality. Though I did not want him to ever tell me about that part of his life. Go be shame free and open somewhere else far, far from home with skanks that will remain anonymous and never be brought home to meet me.

I now have the teen version of Tucker Max residing in my gracious home. I personally love Tucker Max, and if I were a guy I would probably be just like him. I too would write about my drunken, drugged, sex fueled (past) exploits, but most of them seem to run into a blur for me. I probably should have started the narratives while I had most of my brain cells left.

But back to the mini-me known as the Teenager.

Many years ago we were attending or returning from some family event and the newly turned Teenager announced out of the blue from the backseat of my station wagon that he wasn't going to jerk off anymore because bad things happened when he did.

The deathly silence that followed his pronouncement was quickly shattered by my stoic spouse expelling Dr. Pepper through his nostrils and making the car swerve while he alternately choked and shook with laughter. I glared at my amused husband and quickly put on my compassionate and understanding liberal parent face so that I could help the little pervert in the backseat with his problems.

"Masturbation is a normal and natural part of people's lives, dear Teenager", I explained gently to my darling offspring. "Bad things do not happen as a result of stimulating one's self, that is a shameful misconception that Right Wing Conservative Bible Thumpers wish you to believe."

I don't know where I actually picked up this parental psycho-babble.

"No, seriously Mom, every time I do it, something bad happens to me. Last week I failed my math test and you need to come to a conference tomorrow. I forgot to tell you. My bad."

I thought about it for a moment. "Should I tell your teacher about your "problem"? Perhaps she will quit blaming me now for the fact that you are failing math. In fact, maybe you could focus on math if you weren't doing THAT. Not that it's not normal at your age." I huffed and turned back around in my seat. I hated dealing with his math teacher, she made me feel like I was in seventh grade again. I immediately started planning my expensive wardrobe and condescending parental attitude intimidation tactic I would use on her.

So that was the end of that part of the conversation. He passed math and my husband still laughs every time he remembers the Teenager saying that. It must be funny in a guy way, I just don't see any of my girlfriends having this talk with one another.

So last night the Teenager got a craving around eleven o'clock for some chocolate milk and drove to the store to pick some up. Last week we spent around thirteen hundred dollars on repairs for his car AND this week around six hundred for a new fuel pump for the same car. Since he helped pay for most of it (we've convinced him he's buying a new car one part at a time) he has been a very unhappy young man that has found out the reality of the adult world-that you don't really get to keep your paycheck.

So he gets back with his chocolate milk and Evian water, walks into my room, and goes on a rant. Now the damn car has a burned out headlight. Believe me, no one can rant like the Teen. He's soooo dramatic, I cannot imagine where that comes from.....

He raved on between swigs of chocolate milk and I reassured him we would go get it fixed in the morning, it's not expensive. Apparently he did take a hiatus from self stimulating for a few years and has now gone off the wagon, which in his mind is why the car keeps breaking down. He finished his dramatic soliloquy with the statement "I just wanted to bust a nut! What's so wrong with that? I swear I'm not touching myself all summer or I'll never get that Macbook!"

Then he plopped down in the living room to work out his angst by playing "Bad Company" online with other frustrated teen aged boys stuck at home with nothing to do.

"Thanks for the valuable bonding time!" I yelled from the bedroom. "No problem, thanks for listening.", he yelled back between game kills.

I'm so glad he can talk to me about everything.

Love and Kisses,

Cult Diva

They Make A Cream For That Don't They?

"It's called "Seven Year Itch" and I think that's what's wrong with us.", I told my husband last night when he called to wish us a happy anniversary.

"But we've only been married five.", replied my oh so literal spouse.

"We lived together for two, then married for five. That's seven years all together, I've got the itch."

My husband has mentioned before that one of reasons he loves me is my brutal honesty and lack of feminine "guess what I'm thinking" style of communication. Most of the time he would probably like to guess instead of having my thoughts thrown at him like a bucket of ice water. I must admit, announcing it on our anniversary probably wasn't great timing, but I've never been one to hold things in. People get terrible illnesses when they hold in their thoughts. Then they die early.

The women in my family are long living, but their partners usually aren't. However, I did tell my husband he's not allowed to die young since widows never get invited anywhere and I don't plan on being a shut-in.

It's bad enough now. If you're a new reader to my blog, let me explain. My husband is retired military. We met, fell in love, and three weeks later he deployed for six months. That was to be a pattern, except for increasingly longer deployments. During one of his extended visits we drove to Florida and got married. We've been planning a honeymoon ever since, but haven't found the time.

Then he retired from the military and went to work for an overseas contracting firm. I have accused him many times of having an Iraqi wife, since he's been there since 2002 and it's become something of a joke between us. "How's Leila?", I ask him. That's the imaginary wife's name. "And little Mohammed and Akbar?"

But now he's fretting my seven year itch problem. I would guess he spent the rest of his work day talking around the edge of it with some guy he works with that seems to be a font of marital advice. Men give advice about women with about the same authority as women who think they truly understand the male psyche.

It's trying to fix it that concerns me. It seems to be come from boredom, complacency, and decreased communication. It hits couples with young children worse than couples our age, so that's good. I don't resent him for not being here to raise the Teenager, since it was just the two of us anyway for the first decade of his life.

But it is hard to maintain excitement in marriage when you see your spouse twice a year for a two week visit. Our last one was spent in various doctor's offices everyday as the stress of my husband's job is taking a heavy physical and psychological toll on him.

As far as complacency, we don't have any routines together to get bored with.

And for communication, we have a cell phone with the worst reception ever.

We will have to lean on each other through this time as neither of us really knows anyone here. One of the worst things about being "husbandless" in a small town is that you are completely invisible and don't fit in anywhere. One of my fellow bloggers did a post on becoming a "wife of ..." syndrome sufferer yesterday. Yes, the invisible women syndrome is still alive and well. I never realized that social invitations would only be extended to My Husband and I, not just me alone. My therapist, who is male, has just now gotten it. I would guess he ran it by his wife (also a therapist) and she explained the role of solo females in society to him. We were talking about my lack of social support one session and he labeled my situation as "being in limbo".

Exactly. I'm neither single, divorced, or widowed. Since few people have ever seen or met my spouse during the last seven years, I think sometimes people don't know what to do with me. Solo ladies don't get invited to couples events and everything in the suburbs is about couples.

So everyone please keep their fingers crossed that he will get the stateside job he applied for and get to come home. Our area has been really hit by the recession and there are few, if any jobs here. I had to reassure my husband that I wasn't giving up on our marriage, just stating the facts in my own inimical way. I've put in seven years already and I'm not going anywhere until I get that damn honeymoon I've been trying to plan for years. Plus, I've been working on a book and need more scenes from a marriage type material, preferably my marriage.

Love and Kisses,

Cult Diva

And What's Wrong With Wanting To Be A Princess?

Over the weekend I read several articles written about "Princess Syndrome" and how it is negatively affecting little girls by stressing physical beauty over academic accomplishment, entitlement over humility, unhealthy early sexualization over developing healthy sexual boundaries, and whatever other ad hominem logical fallacy that these child experts could dredge up to support their argument that pretending to be a princess is a potential hazard to the emotional and mental development of young women everywhere.

How exhausting, I think I may take a xanax now to recover from that big old run on sentence.

Having long ascended to playing Empress (always capitalized), I can tell you that there is nothing more fun in life than wearing pretty clothes and always getting your own way no matter who you have to (politely) squash under your Louboutins along the way.

I wanted to grow up to be royalty from the moment I saw Glenda the Good Witch in "The Wizard of Oz". Everyone was afraid of her and she wore a fierce dress that sparkled. She also could even make jewel encrusted high heels with a wave of her wand. I'll bet Jimmy Choo would sell what's left of his soul to have one of those, I know I would.

I think these little girls today are lucky to have all these princess accessories and dress up parties to attend with other little princesses. All I had was my grandmother's linen closet, where I would turn table cloths, runners, and bed sheets into ball gowns using safety pins and costume jewelry. I see the "princess" aisle at my local toy store and am just all over myself with envy at all the pretties they have to dress up in.

I want one of those tiaras.

Having grown up in an essentially parentless household, I didn't have ballet or dance lessons that I could have saved costumes from. But I did have hours of time alone to play dress up and perfect my queenly strut.

They also have an enormous amount of visual media to guide their little well shod feet along the path of the princess. Look at all the role models they have: Ariel, Belle, Jasmin, Pocahontas, Oprah, Martha.

Perhaps we just need to stress the less obvious principals of princessdom. It's not all about the pretty face, hopefully there is a brain under that big, shiny hair. And a compassionate heart beating in the jewel encrusted sweetheart bodice.

Better yet, these days we can buy our own carriages, palaces, and jewels, though I don't turn away love offerings, that wouldn't be gracious--another trait of an Empress.

I think I'm going to buy myself that tiara, I've earned it. I imagine I'll get some odd looks when I wear it around the neighborhood, perhaps I need a scepter as well. I'll have to get on the phone in a bit with some real queens to discuss royal protocol; I can't decide who would be better though. Elizabeth II or Rania? Sophia or Silvia? Madonna or Elton?

Perhaps I need courtiers to help with decisions.

Love and Kisses,
,
Cult Diva

Related Topics:

"The Keep Hanging Up On Me"

Bare As I Dare Isn't Happening Without A Fight

In my constant search for new beauty treatments, I normally try ignore anything that's aggressively through television or viral marketing.

But even I'm human and susceptible. Usually my consumer gullibility is contained to fitness products such as Beach Body, Turbo Jam, Hip Hop Abs ,"The Bean", or any other program that promises to give me a perfect body without having to spend hours in the gym. I currently have been fascinated every Saturday morning by "PX90", a hard core program I'm considering purchasing for Mr. Cult Diva.

However, since I'm always looking for the next step in impossible physical perfection, I'm an easy mark for any new beauty product. Especially one that promises to rid me of my kudzu like body hair. I have been fighting the battle of the hair follicle since I (and my kind classmates) first noticed my little moustache at six years old. Over the years I have bleached, shaved, plucked, Nair-ed, waxed, threaded, Vaniqua-ed, and lasered various hairy patches of my anatomy. According to my calculations I should have no hair follicles that produce any hair ever.

But they still do, my hair is nothing if not persistent. So I'm always on the lookout new, long term hair removal products.

The latest being "Smooth Away", which is a hand sander-like device that promises to painlessly and effortlessly remove body and facial hair. The pads are comprised of tiny micro-particle crystals that sand the hair right off of you.

Right.

I'm sure if you are a fair skinned Northern European or perhaps East Asian, Smooth Away pads might work for you. I, on the other hand, come from a long line of hirsute people. My genetic descendants created hair removal techniques such as sugaring and threading, which indicates that excess body and facial hair could possibly be a problem for us. Arab men may jihad against the world in general, but Middle Eastern woman are on a continual jihad against body hair that sprouts in places hair should never grow on females. I had an Iranian friend once that could actually grow chest hair. When the torture device known as the "Epi-Lady" first came out, it was quietly celebrated throughout the Gulf region as it's a cultural norm for women to remove all body hair.


Overcoming my squeamishness about growing out body hair was difficult, but I did manage to allow enough body hair to actually break the skin so that I could try my new hair removal implement. After removing several layers of skin and maybe breaking off one or two hairs in the process, I gave up. This is a mediocre exfoliating tool at best. My legs felt smoother, except for the hairy parts. I'm just too furry for this product.

At least I was only taken for $9.99 plus tax. I can use the rest of the pads for when I might have an urge to lightly sand something.

This was cheaper than the "No, No" electrode device that was supposed to slow my hair growth down to almost nothing. It would probably take full blown electrical charge to stun my overactive hair follicles into stopping production, and even that might only be temporary.

I'm off to Sally Beauty Supply this afternoon to pick up another container of GiGi Sugar Bare, my new favorite. It washes off with soap and water, so that you don't have sticky wax residue left behind in your sensitive parts.

Have a great Memorial Day weekend!

Love and Kisses,

Cult Diva

Wide-On Of The Week-Alexander Skarsgard

Not to brag, but I actually spend quite a bit of time with this week's "Wide On", Alexander Skarsgard. We started our relationship with "Generation Kill" and of course have continued it with "True Blood". Then there's the obsessive cyber stalking, but I am trying to limit myself to a few moments a day. I'm not crazy about the long hair, but I know it's just a phase. He still has that long, hard everything else that makes him a delight to look at. Just sort of mentally erase those other two guys and try to look through those intrusive subtitles.

Like I care what the hell he's saying. Move the damn words and soap south, please.



I had to throw another shirtless picture of him in, just looking at him takes me to a happier place.

Special message to Mr. Cult Diva: Please send my "Generation Kill" DVD's back, when you are done watching them of course. I've been having to rent Alex by the week like a cheap whore and it's getting tiresome when I go in and some other bitch has him.

Love and Kisses,

Cult Diva

It's Mine Bitch, All Mine

This is truly a fashionista's dream economy. I have picked up some incredible deals the last few days at some of my favorite online shopping destinations. Though technically I'm shopping for Italy, I couldn't help myself when I saw some of the deals at Net-A-Porter and Victoria's Secret.



First, the shoes. I ordered the Pour la Victoire studded leather sandal the other day and then received a hideous and unwelcome email saying they were discontinued. I quickly jumped back online to see if they had the next size down as I can usually wear a half size if I must. They did and I got it, just got shipping confirmation this morning, so they will be here before Memorial day. Look:






I got the black ones, I like white shoes on other people, but they scream "West Palm Beach Retiree" when I try to wear them. I feel the same way about white bags, I just can't do them.





I found a really gorgeous pair of Michael Kors super skinny black knit ankle zippered slacks on sale last weekend for this fall and added an inexpensive grey, drape neck tunic from Express. Now I wish I had bought other colors of the tunic as it's a perfect cover up for gym clothes.



I also found this necklace I had been coveting at Banana Republic marked down 50%:








I shortened it from 35" to about 25" so that the fringe would fan out more, as I found the length tended to crumple the pretty architectural effect of the steel bars. Yes, despite the fact that I make jewelry, I love to wear different designer's work.





I also headed over to Net-A-Porter to see what they had on sale and found an adorable brown and white shift from Tibi on sale:

Luckily they still had my size. This was too good of a deal to pass up. I love Tibi. I have the perfect sandals to wear with this already, but darn....don't have a bag yet.....

That will give me a project for next month..

Love and Kisses,

Cult Diva

More Like Hot Poker Face

Why is this woman smiling? Because she's on her next to last taser like Fraxel treatment. Yes, today was number five in the series of six. Unfortunately I forgot to apply my lidocaine ointment an hour before because Iwas in a huge tearing hurry to go purchase "True Blood-Season One", so that I could spend some quality recuperation time with Alexander Skarsgard this afternoon.

So I had to go this treatment sans numbing ointment which hurts like burning hell. Just tap your face with a live wire about sixty times or so. Make sure you get into the hairline too, so that you have that burning flesh and hair smell.

We didn't use as high a setting today as treatment number 4, so do note the lack of open, blood oozing wounds showing today. I mentioned to her that I was down for over a week with the last treatment, even after three weeks I still had the pixilated stamp effect known as the Mark of the Fraxel. It looks like someone had taken a hot poker or a car lighter and stamped all over me, plus it hurt like hell for days. However, I really noticed the difference after treatment four also. I had planned on getting some more Radiesse shot into my marionette lines since I looked so saggy in the last Fraxel series picture, but I saw a tremendous amount of tightening in my lower face area once the redness had gone away. Let me show you a side by side analysis, and tell me what you think:

Treatment 4

<>

Treatment 5



Yes my pretties, Fraxel works wonders. My neck is where I notice the most change, I've lost that little turkey flap thing under my chin that I would pinch on all the time. After seeing so many face lifts, I have decided I would rather not have one.It seems once you do, you have to keep going back for re-tightening repeatedly and I really don't want to ever have the horrible ears pinned back look if I can avoid it. Have you ever looked at Barbara Walter's hair line? It's diagonal for god's sake, I'm assuming her hairdresser can't get her hair any closer to her face to disguise those ears because of the bizarre angle her hair sweeps back into.

Or poor Rupert Everett.I can't decide if he's actually had surgery or just a huge amount of filler put in. The fullness of his new face looks a lot like Sculptra and perhaps he's had a little eyelift action.

Did anyone happen to see Lisa Rinna on "The Doctors" Monday? I plugged into the headset on the elliptical machine to listen to the show yesterday while working out and I felt so bad when she talked about what happened to her lips. Cross my implants and hope to ...well..whatever. I won't make fun of her anymore, I promise. I didn't realize she had permanently screwed them up with silicone. That stuff is hard as a rock. Now remember what I told you when I had my lips done with Juvederm: you can't roll your upper lip back over your teeth for about a week or so because your lip is too puffy.

She hasn't been able to cover her incisors for over two decades now. So either Harry Hamlin has been ixnay on the blow jobs-ay, or she has a special protective technique. I know she has a book out called "Rinnavation" where she shares her sex and exercise tips, so maybe it's in there. I'll have to skim through it at my local book store.

Love and Kisses,

Cult Diva

Related Topics:

"The F Bomb Dropped On My Face"

A Braver Soul Than I

I was stopped this morning as I was leaving home by a news story about a ten year old girl being treated for breast cancer. I propped on the arm of my sofa to hear the rest of the details and found the little girl's face just stayed with me the rest of the day. Cancer in children is sad enough, but to see a child fighting what I think of as an "adult" disease really bothered me.

She found a lump in her breast months ago, but didn't mention it because she though maybe it was just an ordinary change her body was going through. That sounds familiar. I lost an aunt years ago to breast cancer because a doctor wouldn't biopsy a lump she had. He told her breasts became lumpy as women aged. By the time she finally changed doctors, it was too late.

My aunt died from breast cancer. Hannah Auslam ended up having a mastectomy at ten years old and her cancer is a slow moving form called "secretory carcinoma". As it's in her lymph nodes, she is currently undergoing chemotherapy and radiation.

She's a brave little thing, during her interview she said she was grateful that God gave her cancer because he knew she was strong enough to fight it. I wouldn't have handled the situation that well or with any form of gratitude.

I have a lot to learn from this little girl's attitude.

I'm neither spiritual or religious, but I'm going to send a word up to whatever big deity might possibly be able to intervene on Hannah Auslam's behalf.

If you get a chance today, her family has a website up for Hannah called Our Little Sweet Pea. It was down last time I checked due to the influx of visitors, so they are having to do some maintenance work to get it running.

Check your breasts monthly. Tell your doctor of any changes or lumps you find. Tune into your intuition, it's powerful. If your doctor refuses to run further tests or refer you for treatment, then change doctors. You know, or should know the state of your health better than anyone else and the information is readily available on the Internet.

Love and Kisses,

Cult Diva

Starving In The Suburbs

Today while doing research on ridding myself of this hideous "menopot" I ran across a good article on the Denver Times website. As I was reading it I became distracted by the flashing ad banner declaring that 1 in 8 Americans go to bed hungry every night.

Oh the irony of having a Feed America ad banner running across the top of an article on weight loss. I never finished the article as I had to click on the banner to get more information on these starving Americans. Now, please realize that I'm not trying to be ugly or anything, but while reading some of the "real people" stories, I couldn't help but notice that many of the families had members that belonged on "The Biggest Loser". I hate to think of anyone starving, but could they not have found thinner people for their "Faces of Hunger" page? I don't mean Ethiopian, fly speckled skinny, but some of those folks need to go to bed hungry for at least a few months.

So now that I've gotten offending a few folks out of the way, we can go back to talking about my constant weight loss struggle. I go to bed hungry on a regular basis as I don't eat after six anymore. Last Friday I was on the phone with someone and was trying to quietly eat my dinner while they spoke. It was only three o'clock, but I was getting ready to go to the gym and wouldn't get home until after eight, so that crappy mixture of spinach and salmon was going to be the last meal of the day.

I actually have read many articles on the difficulty of losing weight after 40 today and came away completely discouraged. It seems that short of abdominoplasty, my menopot is here to stay.

Apparently as I slip screaming into menopause my body is leeching estrogen from any source that it can get, and my belly fat has a reserve of it. That ugly little bowl between my hip bones is the only thing standing between me and my vagina completely drying up and falling slap off. This was not a great way to start Monday.

I've been on prescription progesterone cream for two years now to combat my estrogen dominance and it has really helped. No more hideous night sweats, minimal migraines, exhaustion, and sugar cravings. But now it's time to move to the big leagues of estrogen supplementation and I'm having mental difficulty with that. I used to think that menopause was no big deal and was a natural part of aging, however that was because I was in my know it all twenties. Now that I'm in my don't know/can't remember shit forties I'm seeing it in a whole new light.

As I said in yesterday's post, I ran into a forty-ish friend at the mall and we commiserated on the difficult of staying in shape after forty. As much as I enjoy working out, even I get tired of having every evening and most of my weekend taken up with exercising. I'm tired of eating healthy food.

I want a donut dammit. I know there's tons of sugar free/fat free food out there, but it's filled with worse chemicals than real food.

I did feel better reading that Tamilee Webb of "Buns/Abs/Willpower of Steel" also struggles with weight, not that you can tell from her photo. She admits to having a menopot, though I am assuming it was photoshopped away on the website.

I guess this means it's time for Spanx and I have resisted this offending garment as long as I had a crunch left in my body. I've crunched, planked, scrunched, and belly danced all to no avail. My middle section isn't going anywhere, so the only thing left is Lycra.

At least I'm surrounded by a whole neighborhood of starving women. You can't drive through here after five o'clock without almost running over a middle aged woman. From five to eight there are swarms of ladies walking, running, biking relentlessly around the lake. It looks like "Invasion of the Menopots" sometimes. They all have that grim, pissed off look women get when they are deprived of fat and carbohydrates.

Picture Madonna's constant expression and you'll see exactly what I mean.

Shit. It's ten already and that means lunch.

Love and Kisses,

Cult Diva

Rump Shaker, Rump Shaker; Please Fix My Ass

As I'm still in pursuit of the perfect hamstring/glute look, I've started looking outside my spin classes for other ways of sculpting the perfect derriere. Because I live in the cultural, intellectual, and apparently "healthy living" black hole known as Valdosta, I've had to look pretty far. Eighty seven miles far to be exact, and that's from my house which is several miles south of the actual metropolis of Valdosta.

All the way to Tallahassee to a wonderful find of a gym called "Art of the Catwalk". Screw the long drive, it's not like I have actual purpose or meaning to my day other than self improvement, I don't do anything even vaguely philanthropic or even intellectually stimulating other than scan blogs and watch cable mini-series. Currently I'm obsessed with "Weeds" and next week season one of "True Blood" comes out. My life is almost complete.

Plus the long drive also allows me to listen to my audio CD of "The Secret", so that one day soon I will have that book deal I can envision and a villa on the Adriatic, plus servants that do nothing because I'm so liberal I'll feel bad about violating their human rights.

I'll also have a perfect ass. I can see exactly the rear view I want in my mind and one day maybe it will actually be in the mirror. I have the power to shape my destiny and butt muscles.

I heard about Art of the Catwalk from my workout goddess, Karla, aka "she who keeps my ass off the back of my knees". She suggested we do a trip one day to try it out since they have such original dance and movement classes. I checked the website that night and decided I may have found a new home.

They have pole dancing classes from beginner level to highly advanced. How fun is that?

Before you all become worried about my motives, let me make it very clear that I don't intend to make a career as a menopausal, middle aged stripper. As far as I know, there is no market for that yet. However if the economy doesn't improve, I may need to create one. You remember how to name strip clubs, right?

Pick a color, then randomly choose a mammal.

I'm calling my "boomer" strip club The Gray Beaver.

I didn't take the pole class yet, that's next week. And yes, I will take pictures. The club has a separate pole room fully equipped with low lighting, mirrored walls, and a disco ball. Laura, who handles the customer relations, gave me a tour of the facility and let me try out swinging on a pole. I'm in really good shape and it was not easy. It takes incredible upper body and core strength to stay on that pole without spiraling down to the floor. I've been wanting a challenge lately, so this fits the bill for me.

I did stay and take two classes; belly dancing and yoga. The belly dance class is taught by the incredibly talented Klancy Karuna, who has been studying belly dance for almost a decade. She had moves I had never even seen before. I've been taking belly dance here in Valdosta and I love my instructor, but Klancy really worked my core muscles. I was sore all the way up my back in muscles I've never been able to fully target before. I saw the difference in my abdominal muscles that day as I actually had a lot more definition than I normally have. Now if I could just shake the fat pod off the front of my lower abdomen, I would be happy.

I also stayed for a yoga class with Jessa Messina, who is a highly qualified yoga instructor. This is what I appreciated most about the gym, they have talented and engaged staff, as well as creative classes. She gave me a great stretching out after all the new dance moves I learned, so I left feeling totally balanced and relaxed.

If you are in the South Georgia or North Florida area, do check out Art of the Catwalk. The place is airy and bright, immaculately clean, filled with friendly staff (thank you Marian for giving me permission to come in and film later), and has a plant filled patio area you can relax in. Plus they have a huge selection of classes to whip you into bikini shape. I just bought a new little number today in the hopes that I will be bikini ready in a few weeks, so the pressure is most definitely on.

I stopped in today to my favorite Valdosta store--Envy--while I was bathing suit shopping. I ran into the owner, Joanna Jones, and we had a good bitch session about trying to lose weight after forty.

It sucks girls. If you are in your twenties or thirties reading this, please remember that it SUCKS. It's not you, it's your hormones. They SUCK. It feels impossible to lose weight no matter what you do. I swear to god Valerie Bertinelli didn't do Jenny Craig, they gave that bitch Clenbuterol. She swears that before she did her bikini shot she lowered her caloric intake to 1200 a day. I actually eat less than that and haven't lost an ounce, not even the three months I was on Adipex.

Old age is a bitch, but my fat ass is getting in that new bathing suit and on that pole.

Don't get all excited Mr. Cult Diva. These will never be private performances, it's all about the calorie burn.

Love and Kisses,

Cult Diva

Wide-On Of The Week: Ignacio "Nacho" Figueras

Wide-On: (noun). A slang term referring to female sexual arousal.
Ex: " Thoughts of riding the hot horseman were making her work up a serious wide-on".


This week's "Wide-On" was inspired by the lustful imagination of fellow blogger, the elegant Mrs. Legally Blonde-http://www.ipickpretty.com/. I want to thank her for the suggestion because if you all leave it to me, all you'll have to pant over are tall blondes, as I rarely deviate from type.

The studly Argentinian polo player and face of Ralph Lauren's Black Label line would be a nice addition to any fantasy stable. I personally would take a tail shot from his mallet any day.

As always, please send your suggestions in unless you want to be stuck with my rotating line up of Viggo Mortensen, Daniel Craig, Daria Torres, Alexander Skarsgard, or Jackie Warner. Yes, I know two of the above are technically female, but you have to admit their hotness factor.

Have a wonderful weekend!

Love and Kisses,

Cult Diva

She Spent How Much To Look Like A Drag Queen?

Janet Cunliffe of Burnley, UK spent around $15,000 for enough plastic surgery and cash-n-carry hair, not to mention sleazy clothing, to look like her daughter.

Who in turn looks like a cheap drag version of Paris Hilton. And let me add a very amateur version. No real drag queen would leave the house looking like this or she would face serious ridicule.

I grew up and lived with some pretty fabulous drag queens in Atlanta. If it weren't for drag queens and gay men I would know nothing about life, love, and the pursuit of the perfect concealer.

Think about it; if you had to have man advice, who would you listen to? Your best girlfriend and her women's magazine theories of male behavior, or a man who has relationships with other men?

Thank you Miss Greta, wherever you may be now, for teaching me how to contour my chipmunk cheeks. Thank you too Michael for taking a poor girl from East Cobb and teaching her how to dress, sometimes by physically removing the offending item from her clueless body and throwing it in the garbage. That skirt did make me look fat and I appreciate your honesty.
I wouldn't have been seen at the Armory with me either. God knows I took enough shit from Charlie Brown of the fabulous Backstreet days before you took over my wardrobe duties.

I just wish you all could have helped Miss Janet C. before she spent all that money to turn into what the Brits so aptly call "a right old slapper". Or one of my other favorite euphemisms " a mutton dressed as a lamb".

Apparently she went to Croatia for all this surgery, which explains so much. I have yet to notice any new "make over" shows coming from the Baltic region, however this may change soon. If you adore Dr. Rey from "Dr. 90210", then you are going to love Dr. Toncic of Zagreb. I wonder if he gives hugs to his half naked patients too?

Just a random thought: How many of you all think that Dr. Rey is actually straight? I keep hoping season after season that he finally comes out of the closet and dumps that shrill anorexic he fronts with.

Apparently the Baltic countries are the hot spot for cheap plastic surgery these days, but you know that Cult Diva believes you get what you pay for. If you need a better argument, then just re-watch the video above.

However, in my heart I believe she would have gotten a much better makeover if she got the ladies from Burkhart's in Atlanta to show her how to contour. Plus they could surely have done something with her and her daughter's jacked up hair.

I was thinking it might be time for a show where drag queens helped real girls become more fabulous and then I remembered Stacy London from "What Not To Wear".

Dammit, beat to the punch again.

Love and kisses,

Cult Diva

I'm Calling It Recession Bush

While reading friend and fellow blogger Deborah Bailey's (the infamous Peach Tart) post this morning I could relate to her scaling down of essential beauty functions in an effort to save money. She has been doing home hair color and had her love partner give her a manicure/pedicure for Mother's Day, which was a lovely idea on his part, but didn't translate well to reality. So I mentally made a list of what goes into my beauty essentials to see what I could give up, do myself, or had to have because I would die without them.

The Gym-I don't need a private trainer right now. I can simply go and try to shame myself into doing more crunches on my own. I am scaling us down from the family membership as The Teenager and Mr. Cult Diva do not go.

The Nail Salon-I go now every nine days instead of twice a week. I've switched to a pale color that doesn't show dings instead of my normal red or black. I did sneak and get a polish change last week because my polish was not working with my accessories at all. I needed a bronze, not a gold look. It was an important difference that was affecting my self esteem and that made it justifiable.

Le Salon-I stay in town to do my color now. In fact I do it myself as I can find no one here that is competent enough not to screw up my balliage. I can't imagine how difficult it is to randomly scatter little bits of amber tint around my face and the tips of my hair without creating big redneck chunks , but it is. Last time I came armed with my own special brush and a picture of Adriana Lima for reference, and still walked out looking like Cindy Crawford ala 1991.

Juvederm, Radiesse, Botox-aka "The Holy Trinity". Not giving these up. I'd rather starve or go without utilities. I haven't had a natural expression in two years and don't plan on starting now.

Fraxel-I am on my last treatment for the next few years, so now I can just get peels every few weeks and that will save lots of money.

Fall Wardrobe. I actually stocked up on lots of goodies last year and will recycle them this year. I still need a good coat and and interesting fall bag. And some dark gray tights and a signature necklace. And a dress from Abayete, I loved their fall collection. There were some python lace up boots that would look good with that little dress too. But other than that I'm set. Oh, except for that Mr. Cult Diva and I are headed to Italy this fall, not Montenegro as suggested by a fellow traveler. For the same price, minus the Soviet block style villas and lack of interesting topography, I can go to the land of Prada.

And it would be inhuman to expect me to be drug screaming and kicking from Prada with nothing to show for it.

Extraneous Facial Work. I've been looking at a little tightening of my lower lid and getting my nose narrowed and lifted a bit on the tip, but I will give these up this year for the good of the economy.

Body Scrubs and other spa treatments. I've found the best scrub is a little olive oil and brown sugar on a loofah mitt. Scrub all over, pat dry, liberally coat yourself in Vaseline, and put on a huge sweatsuit to bake it all in.

Hair Products. Good products are worth every penny, plus you don't use as much. I've been loyal to Philip B. products for almost six months now. I cannot live without Katira Deep Conditioner and Russian Imperial Amber Shampoo.

Waxing. I have been experimenting with home waxing for a few months now as I can't find a decent waxing salon here. Actually we have one place in town that does a Brazilian, and though the girl doing them is very nice, her work leaves a lot to be desired. I had to re-wax myself last time I saw her, and since she charges $88 dollars for the service, I was not thrilled. Thanks to yoga and pilates I am quite flexible. With a little vodka and xanax, plus a large mirror and good lighting I can do my own now. It was a bit rocky at first, I did almost wax my clitoris off the first time, but I've also learned that Pam vegetable spray removes stuck on wax from your delicate parts better than the cream they give you in a waxing kit. However, if any of you saw Lisa Rinna's Playboy spread, you cannot help but notice she has significant foliage in the pubic area. I can only guess that this is either a: a new pubic trend, as we are all tired of seeing it all hang out, or b: the shock of seeing actual pubic hair detracts from her horribly screwed up lips. I almost didn't notice the lips because I was so surprised to see pubes again.

Perhaps that's her concession to the current economic situation. Recession Bush. Wear it loud, wear it proud.

Skin products. I am hooked on Obagi products and have been able to find some of them on Ebay. A few of the products containing hydroquinone you should only buy from the dermatologists office, as well as your Retin-A. I did try for a few years buying it from the Philippines, but all the DEA crackdown stopped that. For god's sake, it wasn't like I was trying to buy Oxycontin, I just wanted a better price on my retinoid.

Anyway, I hope some of you got some ideas from this post on how to prioritize your beauty rituals. It's all about maintaining that trophy wife look, though on a budget of sorts.

Love and kisses,

Cult Diva

Cult Diva Falls Off The Wagon

And she lands right on her fat ass.

It was the fried chicken of course. This time my backsliding occurred at Bojangles, and at least I can say I didn't make a public nuisance of myself or embarrass The Teenager by slobbering and groping the chicken in an obscene manner. Valdosta just got it's very own Bojangles, which opened on April 14th. I know because the entire city went for the opening, including my family. We planned it all week, seriously.

I know other cities have more exciting "openings" than Bojangles, but this is Valdosta. We love football, Jesus, and apparently fried chicken. Lots of fried chicken. The Teenager and I ate at Bojangles every day the first week they opened. You'd have thought we never had fried food before. And you wouldn't be far off the mark.

I don't fry things at home. You get it baked, roasted, braised, stir-fried, or boiled here. I , in typical contrary Cult Diva form, cannot bear the scent of fried food in my home. Plus, I'm always dieting and everyone knows that fried food you don't cook at home has no calories , so it doesn't count. Sort of like vacation sex.

So there I am at Bojangles, where everyone in about a thirty mile radius goes for chicken, right out in public gnawing on a greasy chicken bone. It's no secret anymore. For years I've been hiding out at a place called "Hip Hop Chicken and Fish" when I needed to get my chicken on. I'm anonymous there, just the crazy white lady that came in dressed as a cow one time. That's a long story and the urge for chicken just hit me one night, so forgetting I was dressed in a cow costume complete with a bell around my neck, I went in and ordered up some wings.

And sat at a table and ate them. Eat more chicken,indeed. Who could enjoy that dried up texturized vegetable protein that Chick-Fil-A passes off as chicken?

You can also keep that Kentucky Grilled Chicken too. I can grill my own chicken at home.

I hope there's a support group for me out there. I may have gone too far today. I can't button my favorite Habitual Skinny Glory Jeans, this must be what rock bottom looks like.

It's ugly here. Oh my god, it's Kirstie Alley over there!

I'm off to get an autograph.

Love and Kisses,

Cult Diva

My New MySpace Friend, Bruno

Meinspace Vassup!

As a huge fan of Sacha Baron Cohen, you know I'm living for the "Bruno" release in July. This is going to be hilarious. The Teenager is already doing his own imitation which is almost as good as the original.

Enjoy,

Cult Diva

Wide-On Of The Week: Daniel Craig

Wide-On: (noun) A slang descriptive term for female sexual interest and arousal.
Ex: " This guy I'm going out with Saturday gives me a serious wide-on."

I thought I would start a new tradition here at Pretty, But Shallow by introducing a Friday column dedicated to the obvious ogling of men I will never meet in my lifetime. There comes a certain point in every woman's life where she realizes a horrible truth.

That she's slept with everyone she is ever going to sleep with again.

So all she has left is ogling strange men and reading trashy books about everyone else's sex life. If she's lucky, she has a slutty friend that's willing to share her libidinous romps in detail.

So I have a full library of trashy vampire erotica.

And Daniel Craig all to myself for the weekend.

Enjoy. If you have any suggestions for further Wide-On of the Week subjects, please comment or email me. This is a politically incorrect, completely liberal forum. I don't care what or who turns you on and make no judgements. Send in your hottie and I'll make you infamous in my blog.

Have a great weekend,

Cult Diva

I'd Rather Go Semi-Naked

I received my perfume samples today and began trying them on. I started with Parfum de Empire's "Aziyade" on the right wrist and Amouage "Gold Woman" on the left.

Gold Woman is a fantastic perfume that lives up to the price and the hype. Incredible well crafted, it is an extremely pretty and feminine scent. The jasmine was lady like and not cloying as I find it can be in some scents. I definitely would not mind adding a small decant of this one to my collection.

Aziade is an overwhelming amber oriental on me. It goes hard all the way through the dry down and never gives up once. Even the small amount I have on my wrist overwhelmed me. It is a very intense, smokey amber that reminded me of Youth Dew meets Avignon (Comme de Garcon's incense line eau de parfum). Maybe in a different season I might like it, so I will sample it again in the late fall.

Now my new love is Teo Cabanel's "Alahine". No wonder the Duchess of Windsor used this perfume house for her personal scent. Alahine is absolute elegance, an amber oriental done right. I did notice the vaguely citrusy top not, but the lavender and Bulgarian rose notes are balanced exactly right with the patchouli, which adds warmth to the composition. Not dirty hippie warmth, patchouli has such awful connotations in the States. Everyone here tends to wrinkle their noses when you mention it. Good patchouli does not, I repeat, does not smell like a Grateful Dead concert.

This would be the scent that you would want your mink coat to smell like if you had one. Now, before PETA puts me on their most wanted list, let me say I'm not a fan of fur coats. No one could be aware of the torture these animals are put through to become clothes and accessories and had still feel comfortable wearing them. I'm now at a point I'm not even okay eating them anymore. I do think that all the people that are into the "I'd rather go naked than wear fur" campaign should show up on a designated day butt naked. Preferable in the spring or summer. Wouldn't that be a fun day for the media? They could have a tofu barbecue, and a vegetable deep fry. A dunking booth. All the semi-vegetarians could be semi-naked. I am guilty of a fried chicken obsession. I just hope chickens are too dumb to realize people are being mean to them.

So I'm thinking of creating a politically correct personal mink farm.

I figure I can buy about thirty or so of the little buggers and treat them like my cats. Anyone that knows me, knows that my kitties live a really good life. In fact they are spoiled rotten. Me and the minks (which will all have collars, vet care, and cute names) will frolic around here in South Georgia. A few might go sleep on the Teenager's bed. Some will probably curl up with me. My cats will get used to them, they had a raccoon as a friend for the longest time. They just thought he was a funny looking cat and he used to eat breakfast with them in the morning. I also thought he was a cat until he looked up at me when I was filling his bowl.

I can probably make them a little mink playground on the side of the house with a splash pool and even a slide. They can run around in the yard, we had free range Guinea pigs for the longest time. I'll just have to sit out there with them to make sure hawks don't get them too (sorry Charlie and Lenny, r.i.p. where ever you are). Eventually they will slip into old age and I promise I will be there to hold their little paw when the end comes. I don't know how long minks live for, but I'm patient and can wait until they are all gone. Then I will take them and have a memorial coat made from their much loved and petted upon hides. With all their names and the dates of their demise embroidered inside.

See you can be fashionable and humane, it just takes a little creative thought.

A Clean Colon Is A Sexy Colon

I knew I was on to something when I wrote "Master Cleanse Vs. Masturbate". With all the knowledge just waiting to be discovered on the Internet, I could not believe I could not find a connection between cleansing and sex. Sex is linked to every other thing on the Internet, so why not nutrition?

However I did find the ultimate site today: http://www.sexualecstasy.org/, a site that promises to enhance your sex life by nutritional cleansing and detoxification because a clean colon is a sexy colon. At least that's the premise of this site. When you go there, make sure you click on the link on the left side of the page that says "God's Masturbation". It starts out a woman breathing heavily like she's about to have an orgasm. Then it stops abruptly. But that's not all that's weird about this site. They promote some products that I'm sure you can buy on the site, but I was too caught up in the weird fuzzy pictures and snippets of "ancient" wisdom to really pay attention to the product. Oh, and you can buy a special lubricant called "Merh" to really enhance your sacred experience. It was sort of like "The Secret" version of colon cleansing and sex. Very odd.

Anyway, I'm on day ten of my cleanse and I feel really good. I know I feel good because last night I ate some bread with cheese and felt really awful this morning. I have not had coffee, any caffeine products, meat, dairy, wheat, or any fruit or vegetable that fell in the nightshade family. I've also had no alcohol or Diet Pepsi. Since all food had to be raw or minimally processed I had lots of raw or lightly stir fried vegetables. And soy based smoothies for protein.

Plus additional supplementation via the hideous Vaxa Greens, which taste like your yard in a powder form. You mix it in water and drink it. I learned to drink it over the sink, so that if I needed to spit out a clump I could do it immediately. I tried chilling it with ice and even adding a little juice, but you cannot kill the taste. It was almost, but not quite as bad as last year's Kombucha mushroom fungi fiasco. One of my neighbors brewed me the tea and brought me a full cup of it to drink immediately. Because I'm overly polite at the wrong times, I drank it. And shuddered. Then later that afternoon, I began vomiting profusely for several hours. I don't think it was the mushroom though, her housekeeping leaves much to be desired. She also was kind enough to bring me my own giant fungi to grow in my refrigerator while I recuperated from my Kombucha near death experience. I would have preferred a nice potted plant or some nice pot planted. Either might have killed the horrific nausea.

Add to the greens a little product called "ColonClenz" which is pretty self explanatory. It's Drano for your pipes Enough said there, I'm not keen on sharing or even admitting I may have excretory functions. It's taken me years to convince Mr. Cult Diva that I have no need for a bathroom other than a place to keep my cosmetic stash. I have another bathroom for my hair doing, and I could use another bathroom for my perfume collection. Not hinting, but I need at least four bathrooms or a very large dressing room for my grooming rituals.

The hardest part for me to give up was the coffee, or in my case, rocket fuel. I mix Jacob's (a German coffee) with espresso, so that I get coffee that bites back. It did literally take me until about Wednesday before I felt fully awake and didn't have a skull splitting headache. I started drinking coffee in my early teens, so this almost killed me.

Next to that was dairy products. I hate milk, but love cheese and yogurt. I also had to make peace with the fact that I am mildly lactose intolerant and quit basing my diet around dairy products. It's just too easy for me to reach in the refrigerator and grab a yogurt as a meal or two. I've noticed my skin is no longer insanely oily since I've been dairy free and I wonder if there is not a correlation. I try to buy organic dairy, i.e. no pesticides, hormones, or antibiotics, but I read today that just because they're organic does not make them better for you.

Meat was not difficult as I don't care for it much. I've had red meat twice this year, and started buying organic chicken. I felt better not eating either and may not go back to meat.

I do like my morning lemon water and Yogi "Detox" tea. I feel lighter and more creative, though I'm not too sure if my sex life was enhanced, as Mr. Cult Diva is back at work and sex is not fun without him. I did tell Mr. Cult Diva that he would be lucky enough to go on the same cleanse when he came home, so that we could detox all the poisons he is exposed to daily. He enjoys when I try out my half baked nutritional experiments on him, at least he never says no. The Teenager has learned to hide from me until my short lived obsessions run their predictable course and fade away.

I don't know if I lost any weight or not, as I don't believe in scales. If my pants are looser, I'm happy. And they are much looser around the waist.

I'm also enclosing as a free gift to you, my readers, a juice recipe that you can use the first few days when you're not taking in any solid food:

1. 1 celery stick

2. 2 apples -chopped

3. Juice of 1 lemon

4. 1 medium sized cucumber- diced

5. A cup of spinach.

6. Half cup parsley- chopped

7. 1 small piece of ginger- peeled

Put all of the above in your juicer and enjoy!

That Better Not Be All I Get For Mother's Day

Obviously I am not the only one creeped out by Shia Labeouf's bizarrely oedipal comments about his mother. I'm not a child psychologist and could probably be considered an amateur parent at best, but I would hazard a guess that young Shia grew up in a home that could be categorized as "Parents Without Borders". Naked goddess parties? Boy, things sure are different in the big city. Here we have Pampered Chef and scrap booking parties. Sometimes even Bunko nights. Being naked sure would put an interesting spin on things.

Just out of curiosity, I asked the Teenager his opinion of my sexiness factor while he was foraging through the cabinets for even more food to consume. As he is going through a massive growth spurt, this is an hourly event. I no longer have to use air conditioning, as the chill from the open refrigerator door seems to be cooling the house quite well. He paused briefly in his rummaging to consider an appropriate answer.

"You would look really hot if you made me a grilled cheese sandwich and heated up some pizza rolls, Crazy Cat Lady" he answered, handing me a block of cheese. "Crazy Cat Lady" and "The Cat Whisperer" are two of his pet names for me. I know he means them affectionately.

He flopped down at my desk while I told him about Shia LaBeouf and his mom. In the Playboy article, LaBeouf was quoted as saying he would marry her if he could, even while acknowledging that it sounded sort of sick. Well, yes it does sound a little off. But it got me thinking that most men date and marry a version of their mothers. The Teenager is a prime example. He only likes brunettes, preferably of the short and curvy sort. His current girlfriend loves to work out and actually enjoys nutritious food. I know for a fact that she got him to eat a salad, something I have had trouble doing for years. She "holds" his money when they go on dates so that he doesn't spend it impulsively on the first thing he covets. She nags him about doing his homework, and in short seems to be helping him be a better man. She has laughs at all his weirdness and fits in quite well with our rather offbeat family.

I love her. She is a teenage version of me. He's found a new woman to take care of him, I just wish she would take over his cell phone and insurance payments, and maybe chip in for groceries occasionally. If at some point in the distant future; like say a decade from now, he marries her or someone just like her, I will be a happy mom.

I hope LaBeouf's interview was not the only thing his mom is getting for Mother's Day. There's still time to pick her up a little something, like perhaps some flowers or candy. Or the panty of the month club.

I'll be happy with a card. Hopefully his girlfriend will remind him that a holiday is coming and help him pick me out a really nice one.

Scents And The City

Over the weekend I realized it was time to do a little perfume sampling again. For those of you that are new to my blog, let me explain. I have a perfume fetish. Not shoes. Perfume. I did a post back in January called "Scents and Scentsability" that gave a full history of my obsession, plus a picture of the scent bar in my bathroom. If you come and visit me, I always encourage you to stop in and sample as there are more bottles there than a department store.

I got started this weekend when I purchased a small bottle of Bal a Versailles from perfumer Jean Desprez. Sadly it was only an eau de toilette and had none of the seductive elegance of the original perfume. But the bottle made me nostalgic, it was cheap (very cheap), and unfortunately smelled like bug spray. However it will be a pretty vintage bottle to add to the collection.

Then I came home and pulled up Lucky Scent-http://www.luckyscent.com/ and ordered a few samples of perfumes I have been wanting to try.

The first two were by Tocca, the company that makes Cleopatra, which is my current seasonal signature scent. I have actually worn this for two seasons now, and that's a record for me. So I ordered:

• Giuletta-Tocca's latest addition to the line. Their scents tend to have have unusual fruit notes that actually work for me instead of making me smell like a fruit salad. One of Cleopatra's top notes is grapefruit and with Giuletta it's apple. Other notes include: pink tulip, lilac, lily of the valley; followed by middle notes of rose, ylang ylang, orchid, iris, and heliotrope. The base notes are amber and musk. Sounds promising to me, their scents have never disappointed me so far.



• Touch-Their first perfume. It's composed of pomegranate, peach flower, tiare flower, jasmine, gardenia, Egyptian balsam, and sandalwood.

My next one was an uber-tuberose scent. I've always adored Fracas, so last year I tried the heavily hyped Carnal Flower from Frederick Malle. I did not love it as much as some people, it seemed to dry down to a heavy eucalyptus scent on me so that I smelled like a cough drop by mid afternoon. So this year's tuberose scent is:

• Beyond Love. Shame on me, as a perfumista you would think by now I have at least one Killian scent in my arsenal. Beyond Love is their much lauded tuberose based perfume. It's all about tuberose, which I find is a note you either love or hate. In this scent, it's not a note, it's the whole symphony. Here is it's composition: Coconut accord, Egyptian jasmine absolute, tuberose concrete, tuberose absolute, green tuberose, tuberose petals accord, ambergris, and tonkin musk. I can't wait to see what this does on my skin.

Next I wanted a few of my typical va-va-voom scents, like Beyond Love wasn't loud enough. I suspect however that the coconut and jasmine are going to temper the volatile tuberose though.

Now last summer's perfume to seduce by was Agent Provocateur's sultry scent, Maitress. Check out their site at http://www.agentprovocateur.com/, they have seriously sexy frilly things and good perfumes too. It sounds like "mattress" but actually means mistress. Same difference, you'll be on your back before the panties hit the floor. It's pure sex in a spray, my husband loves it. So this year I'm trying:

• Aziyade from Perfum de Empire, which is described as "A concentration of erotic pleasures and of the excesses of great civilizations." on the Beauty Habit website. Sounds exactly like something I would like. It has a complicated structure that should be interesting: pomegranate, crystallized date, almond, orange, prune, cardamom, cinnamon, Egyptian cumin, frankincense, vanilla absolute, Madagascar vanilla, patchouli, and musk.



• Alahine from Teo Cabanel. This perfume house began in Algers and moved to Paris in 1908. They created perfume for the Duchess of Windsor and you know how much I adore her, so anything from the venerable perfume house would do for me. Alahine is an amber oriental, which can be quite sexy and classy if done well. The reviews about Alahine are great, so I needed to try it myself. The notes are: Bulgarian and Moroccan rose , jasmine, orange flower vanilla, pepper tree, iris benzoin, patchouli, and sandalwood.

And finally a scent from Amouage, the most valuable perfume in the world according to their press. I disagree because of the perfumes from JAR, but we'll see. Now I'm sure you must be wondering how I went to Dubai and did not come home with an Amouage perfume.

Because I value my marriage. My husband has a strong heart, but not that strong. Plus I couldn't shake him for that long. Remember the Cult Diva serenity prayer:

Cult Diva, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot charge;

The courage to charge the things I can;

And the wisdom to hide the shopping bags until my husband leaves for work.

So now you know why I did not pick up any Amouage even at the duty free. So at least for 3.99 I have a sample of one of their scents. See, the recession is getting to me too. Here's what I got:

• Gold Woman. Created by Guy Robert, he was given an unlimited budget by the Sultanate of Oman to create this perfume of the finest ingredients he could find. An unlimited budget. Good God, do you suppose the Sultan needs another wife? Anyway, he swirled his magic wand and mixed: Rose, jasmine, lily of the valley, apricot, lime, peach, silver frankincense, myrrh, orris, and rock rose of the desert. These don't sound particularly impressive, but I'm sure the concentrations he used were probably the platinum standard. I'm just a little excited. I hope I don't like it so much I want my own bottle. However, if you go to the Perfumed Court site: http://www.theperfumedcourt.com/, you can get larger decants of the Amouage line, which is the more affordable way to go.

Check my side bar for more perfume sites, there are some really good ones on there. If you are a fellow perfume addict and have a site to recommend, please drop me a comment!

Love and kisses,

Cult Diva

They Keep Hanging Up On Me

I don't know how many of you watched "The Early Show" this morning, but they had one of their classic moments that make watching the show bearable. Apparently in high pageant queen drama, the Miss California pageant funded homophobe Carrie Prejean's big, new silicone breasts. It's important to have big boobies when you're in a scholarship pageant because you will use those melons later to mesmerize professors in the classes you aren't doing well in. Or help you get ahead in your career.

Maggie Rodriguez thoroughly reamed The Miss California pageant co-director, Keith Lewis, on air about why Carrie Prejean needed implants to compete for the Miss USA title. Wasn't the pageant about scholastic aptitude and philanthropy? He stayed really cool through the whole interrogation and managed to say nothing really. I wish she had interviewed Shanna Moekler instead, because she's so well spoken and articulate.

But I got something really important out of all of this; you can get pageants to fund your plastic surgery. I immediately got out my "pretty wishlist" and pulled up a list of Georgia pageants so that I could get a head start on trolling for plastic surgery funding ahead of all the other opportunistic bitches out there.

I started with the Hello Kitty pageant; held around June in Cochran, GA. I love Hello Kitty and figured anyone associated with the pageant would probably be at least as immature as I am. I got the phone number of the pageant's director and called her right away. Never mind that it's seven in the morning, my needs are more important than whatever she was doing at the moment.

When she finally answered, I introduced myself and made sure that women my age could enter, it did say "all ages". She seemed taken aback, but quickly recovered her aging pageant queen grace and qualified me. I asked her if they had a program for assisting needy contestants and she said that within reason they could probably help me with my physical concerns.

So I told her about my FUPA. For those of you that missed my post about menopause, a FUPA is an acronym meaning "Fat Upper Pussy Area". You know, that awful pot sticking out from under your bellybutton. I was thinking of a mini tummy tuck with a little liposuction to get rid of it.

The phone line went dead, and I hit re-dial right away because she didn't have my phone number to call me back. She picked up the phone and screamed some ugly words at me that I didn't know former pageant queens knew and HUNG UP.

I'll bet she never won "Miss Congeniality".

Maybe I asked for something too expensive, after all we are in a recession.

So next I called the Miss Portal Turpentine pageant director. In staying with the "portal" theme, I explained I would feel better about myself if I had a little vaginoplasty to tighten up my portal, so to speak. No one wants a beauty queen gliding down the runway with a bad case of the queefs.

She too hung up on me. Maybe she's just worried about the swine flu pandemic; it's obvious her mind was elsewhere this morning. These people need to get their priorities straight.

So I tried a pageant a little closer to home, the Miss Enigma Firecracker pageant. Enigma is a really small town of about two hundred closely related people up in Irwin county. Though I'm not an albino, and don't have hemophilia or crossed eyes, I was hoping I had a chance to get in anyway. This time I would ask for something small, as it's a pretty poor community.

I mentioned that the skin tags popping up on my neck like mushrooms were bothering me, and could they help me get rid of them? The director of this pageant was actually pretty nice and took time out of her busy day running the take out window at the Dairy Queen to talk to me for a while. She gave me the number of the town's veterinarian/taxidermist, as he did minor surgery in his spare time and she could get me at least twenty percent off.

Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner. I'm headed out the door now. He mentioned I should bring my own soldering iron for sanitary purposes, whatever that means.

Please wish me luck as I get ready to compete for Miss Enigma Firecracker, I'm counting on your support.

For a full and hilarious look at The Today Show transcript, check The Huffington Post article:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/05/01/miss-californias-breast-i_n_194385.html

Love and Kisses,

Cult Diva

Cowgirl Helper

So last night I was lounging on my back porch with a cup of detox herb tea in hand and reading a magazine over the phone with my BF. Well, she was reading me an article out of Women's Health, as she just got her latest issue today in the mail. I'm thrilled she has subscribed to something with "health" in the title because we are at two opposite ends of the spectrum in regards to healthy living. She's the wild living hedonist and I'm the rigid ascetic, so our friendship provides a good balance to each other's extremism.

I'm happy that she is finally taking an interest in her health, it's all about the baby steps toward clean living. But of course she zeroed in on the article "Assume A New Position-Five moves that will shake up your sex life". She read me off the names given to the fantastic five and I had to stop her on "Cowgirl Helper" for a description. It sounded like something you might do to add a little flair to a cheap boxed dinner.

"Look y'all! Mamma's taking this nasty box of noodles with it's packet of MSG poisoned seasoning, adding a few secret ingredients and creating a new dish for the church supper! I'm gonna call it Cowgirl Helper. Yeehaw!"

So I had her read me how to do the Cowgirl Helper, as I was dying to find out what the helper part was. That sounded like something that could be spicy. Here it is for you too:

"You kneel on top of him, pushing off his chest and sliding up and down his thighs. He grabs your hips and rises to meet each thrust."

That's it.

I must have missed something. I had her read it again as I can be a little slow in the visualization department. This sounds just like plain old Cowgirl to me, where's the helper? So I got online to pull the article up myself just in case she deliberately left something out. I need visuals.

That's it. I even checked the sheets to see if there was a helper hidden somewhere in them, perhaps the helper was in the other room finishing their drink, who knows? Maybe they were in the kitchen whipping up a delicious feast of Hamburger Helper for after the debauchery. I hope they follow the low fat cooking suggestion or use tofu instead of beef, as I'm off of red meat.

If nothing else today, do check the original article just to see the other four positions and the silly names someone came up with for them.

http://www.womenshealthmag.com/sex-and-relationships/better-sex-positions?page=3

Don't hurt yourself this weekend. Stretching is always key before any physical activity.

Love and Kisses,

Cult Diva Helper