OMG...even my hair follicles are swollen. I am typing this while eating left over sweet potatoes because I just read they can debloat you. I'll get to that in a moment.
First, I just want to announce that the only thing I will strangely be grateful for these next few days is early darkness.
Darkness makes bloated people look more attractive.
Allow me to point out there is a marked post-holiday difference between swollen divorced women and swollen married women.
That being, that married women usually have a matching swollen spouse.
Single divorced women feel swollen alone and have little desire to attempt to get dressed attractively and socialize with the opposite sex.
Bloating for us is a lonely sport.
Post-holiday emotional and physical exhaustion when you wing a holiday without a wingman usually leads at some point to thumbing lazily through women's magazines you've been meaning to read searching for tips to lose weight.
On page 23 of the December issue of First Magazine I found the sweet potato flat-belly connection.
I had a fun reunion in Dallas with a divorced gal pal I just love. We caught up over lunch about everything including her social life. They're either looking' for a nurse or a purse, she said point blank. I spit out my soup. When she told me her sister just sent her and her contractor a three year anniversary card, I snorted my salad.
What's going on around the country with divorced women with respect to their social lives really runs the gamut of emotions at different times.
This particular sweet potato has been in a couple serious relationships since her divorce back when, then she attempted some online and offline dates but they weren't working out.
She realized the problem too. HER. She just didn't give two craps. I think that was a quote.
She wished she did she said, but she didn't. So she stopped dating and started picking up men — in her pick-up truck — to work at her house and then go home.
Her contractor is the current man in her life and apparently its been going on for awhile. Three years is awhile, no?
But she explained, even a steady contractor can go MIA on occasion forcing you to find a replacement.
I feel like putting on my feetie pajamas at 5 o'clock. I know this happens every year when it begins getting dark early, but this year I can't take it any more. I am fighting back! Anything not to be on the couch for hours in between hustling back and forth to the refrigerator.
I need to suck up the daylight whenever I can so I have been forcing myself to get out. Mostly I try and make it to the gym because someone shrunk all the clothes in my closet.
To amuse myself I have been taking all the different kinds of classes they offer. Spin, pilates, kickboxing, body conditioning, etc. Monday night was boxing. I didn't notice I was the oldest person there until about half-way through. My chest was heaving and I was wondering if anyone in the gym had medical knowledge. What the heck was I thinking? After jumping rope, doing pushups on a hard wood floor, and completely flattening my manicure inside my boxing gloves on a punching bag, I had no idea if I would ever see darkness again...I was praying I could get back outside to the dark parking lot.
Welcome to my recipe for disaster. On Thanksgiving Day this year my daughter will be 21. I am trying to combine a milestone birthday, a holiday, the umpteenth anniversary of my father's death and a tentacled divorce. I can't even tell you the half of it because doing so here would compromise the privacy of people close to me. I'm leaning toward Jet Blue. I will focus instead on stuffing.
My favorite stuffing story was the year I decided to make the bird at my house and transport it to my late brother Stephen's home. People were not relaxed. I was never known as the turkey girl and I that year I was going to show them!
Everyone at the table watched in awe as my mother pulled a plastic bag of innards out of the stuffing cavity. I can still hear my brother's hysteria. This year I'm at it again...shoot me.
Ok, here's the latest cougar news — because everyone and their mother now thinks I am a cougar expert, except my own mother who may I remind you, I keep sending out of the country every time I am on the air somewhere talking about this. She is now a very frequent flier.
On Wednesday I was a guest on "Sex Files" on Sirius Satellite Radio Maxim Channel 108, which is hosted simultaneously by the lovely Anna David (out of NY) and the lovely Amy Spencer (out of LA). Every week they talk to men about sex, and this week's topic was "Dating & Cougars: How To Meet One, How To Woo One and How to Keep One Happy." No worries, I handled it.
Also on with us was Illona Paris, a sex therapist and self-described cougar, whose latest book out this week is called Hot Cougar Sex: Steamy Encounters with Younger Men. Her mother must live in Bora Bora.
A story on the front page of the NY Times Style Section called "France. Sex. Problem?" had me thinking all day about paying for sex — not me personally, I paid for a bagel — but women in general, and divorced women in particular.
In my opinion, based on what I hear women talk about privately, I don't think we are very far away from it becoming ‘somewhat’ socially acceptable. That is, for a woman to begin doing what men have done forever: pay for pleasure.
I KNOW I KNOW it's illegal. Illegal in every state that is except Nevada and (who knew?) Rhode Island.
You might remember that back in 2005, Heidi Fleiss, the former Hollywood Madam, amused women and the world with her idea to open a "Stud Farm" called “The Cherry Patch Ranch” with males serving an all-female clientele.
I, Debbie Nigro, Chief Executive Girlfriend of FWW, am devoted to an ongoing mission to explore for YOU, my faithful and devoted now-single-again girlfriends, all opportunities related to new men, mischief, and madness. This requires a load of continuous caffeine and an occasional gown.
My latest adventure even required a "wingman." Try finding one of those on the shelf at Walmart. Let me explain.
Some weeks ago the very famous matchmaker Janis Spindel contacted me to suggest I should attend her upcoming Elegant Affair. The invitation said attendees would be attractive, well-educated, upscale professionals age 40 and up personally selected by Janis and her cupids, and that every guest would be single and looking for love. I've had worse invitations.
