Dear Kirstie Alley,
I got your press release about how you’re going back to your first diet love, Jenny Craig. (I really appreciated the personal touch of including the pictures of all your diet products. Apparently JC will now be carrying your line of diet drinks in their stores so, um, way to play it from both sides?) I wish I could say that I’m happy for you but watching you publicly yo-yo your weight up and down for years is starting to make me deeply uncomfortable. Not because your weight is fluctuating – that’s a totally normal part of the human experience – but because of how uncomfortable it seems to make you.
Take this statement you made in a recent interview in People where you explained the reason for your returning to Jenny Craig, after a 7-year hiatus: “I was good for awhile and then I wasn’t good, and the weight crept up. Like I say in the ad, I’m not circus fat. I didn’t hugely screw up. I didn’t gain 75. I gained 30.”
Best eye makeup EVER.
Wait, that sign has words?? My whole world view was rocked one day in 5th grade when my parents took me to get my eyes checked. It turned out that not only was I near-sighted but I was so near-sighted that the fact that signs contain actual words and not just blurry pictures was a shattering revelation. I remember marching out of the optometrist’s office and reading every sign I could find – just because I could.
Ever since then my consistently worsening vision has provided my family with a trove of embarrassing and hilarious stories. Like the time when I was 16 and jumped on the back of a boy in the swimming pool, thinking he was my brother that I’d been horsing around with. I quickly realized that despite wearing the same color swim trunks as my brother, he was not related to me in any way when he turned his head and said dryly, “Excuse me, can I help you?” I still had my legs locked around his waist when I spotted my brother several feet away laughing so hard I thought he was going to aspirate his own tongue.
Daily in the morning one half hour before breakfast on an empty stomach and at night before sleeping, drink 1 Tbsp honey and 1 tsp cinnamon powder boiled in one cup of water. If taken regularly, it reduces the weight of even the most obese person. Also, drinking this mixture regularly does not allow the fat to accumulate in the body even though the person may eat a high calorie diet.
And yes, you can own this shower curtain! They sell everything on Etsy!
Indoor plumbing may be the single best advancement in the history of mankind. In the past, unless you were lucky enough to live in a bathwater climate like Hawaii, bathing, washing or drinking often meant hacking a hole in the ice first. (Writes the girl who lives in Minnesota where the majority of our ten thousand- ish lakes are still frozen, despite the fact it’s APRIL. Get it together already Mother Nature!) So why would anyone in their right mind want to return to dumping a bucket of cold water over his or her head?
In spite of how insane it sounds “cold therapy” is making a comeback. First it was your ultra-marathon friend doing post-run soaks in an ice bath, said to reduce inflammation and speed recovery. Then it was a shot of cold at the end of your shower to “seal your pores”, make your hair shiny and – duh – wake you up. And now it’s come to this: A journalist (who, for once, I don’t envy them their job) crouched in the fetal position at the bottom of a 60-degree pool, breathing through a tube and trying not to rattle his fillings loose as he shivers for 20 minutes. In his article for Wired magazine, entitled “Tapping the Power of Cold to Fight Fat,” Steven Leckart plays lab rat in a way I never could in order to help former NASA scientist Ray Cronise learn about how cold effects the human metabolism and specifically in the role that brown fat plays in weight loss.
Eating, sitting and pooping are generally considered life skills and yet I spent a portion of today – Easter Sunday, one of the High Food Holidays, no less – unable to do any of the above. The problem started, as it often does with me, with a mystery package dropped on my doorstep by the invisible fairy-men from the land of Fed-Ex. (Seriously I never see those guys/girls – they ring my doorbell and run so fast it’s like my packages appear by magic. Maybe they heard of the day I had to chase two of my kids all the way down the block wearing nothing but a towel? Yeah, I’d run too. Anyhow.) Sweet reader G (love you, girl!) is a costumer in California and came across an old time-y girdle in the discard pile. Rather than see it go to the great vintage shop in the sky she packaged that baby up and sent it my way!