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Friday, January 7, 2011

Reclaiming The Hotness

I want to be hot again. I used to be smokin. Seriously. That's not to say that with a fair amount of makeup, a lot of black clothing and a forgiving lighting scenario, I can't look like a shadow of my former self...an ominously ginormous shadow, but still, my hot self is buried in there somewhere.

For the first few years that I lived in NYC (especially that first year), I looked damn good. I lived with an actor who really pushed me to wear makeup, dress to the nines (even though I couldn't afford it), get my hair done regularly (with the help of my new friend MBNA) and just give a rat's patoot about how I presented myself to the world. Mind you, my mom had been trying to accomplish this feat for years and years and all I did was resist. I also worked at a diner on the Upper East Side and then a somewhat upscale BBQ joint (yep, there is such a thing) and the time I spent on my feet really helped me to shed the pounds I had put on in college. Waiting tables and hosting also allowed me to get my arse pinched on a regular basis by patrons (including a former superstar Mets catcher), which further clued me in to just how darn good I looked.

I actually was mistaken for Britney Spears in Central Park once...and this was before she descended into madness and frumpiness. Back in high school and even in college (before I discovered binge drinking), I was told that I looked like Kelly McGillis and Elizabeth Shue.

These are the silly and superficial things I cling to when I look into the mirror now. As I survey the damage I've done to my once fabulous form, I keep reminding myself that there will be plenty of catcalls and objectifying in my future.

All I have to do is to reclaim my hotness.

(Note: I know there is more to weight loss than the exterior, superficial crap. I know being drop dead gorgeous won't solve all of my problems. I know beauty is in large part on the inside and that I am a damn fine human being underneath all of this flab. I'm good enough. I'm smart enough and blah, blah. That doesn't change the fact that I want to be the object of every jealous woman's scorn and every neanderthal's desire.)