Archive for November, 2010

No, not that kind. (Thanks to my betrothed, I already have a few dazzling strands.) I want pearly whites, as in the mega-watt smile of hot mama Heidi Klum, pictured here hamming it up in the new Ann Taylor ad campaign. Clearly, Mrs. Seal has one of the most stunning smiles around. And that’s in addition to a rockin’ bod – after four kids. Grrr…

Of course I could just zip off to the dentist, plunk down a grand, and walk out about 10 shades brighter. But right now, I’d rather squirrel away my dough for the Gucci loafers Hubby wants for Xmas, as well as an end-of-year donation to Farm Sanctuary. How bipolar is that? Gucci vs. Farm Sanctuary?

Besides, I’m on a real get-rid-of-it tear at the moment, and that means “shopping my closet” and using what I actually already own. I can’t tell you how many times I just buy something new because I’m either A) bored and in need of a little pick-me-up or B) too lazy to forage through my cabinets and cubbies to find whatever it is that I think I just have to have at that precise moment.

‘Tis a curse. But at least I’m onto my evil ways and endeavoring to change…

Which brings me to the vast assortment of whitening strips lying in wait in the master bathroom. I just riffled under the sink and discovered that I am, in fact, a whitening strips hoarder. I have two un-opened boxes of Crest Whitestrips Premium (expiration date 2004 and 2005!), as well as about a zillion loose packets of Crest Whitestrips Renewal and Crest Whitestrips Advanced Seal. In total, I’m probably staring down a good $200 worth of Whitestrips.

Proof positive that I was smart to stop myself from buying the latest and greatest Crest Whitestrips 3D Advanced Seal that I was lusting over last week at Target.

Gucci and Farm Sanctuary will be very happy!

Because of what I do for a living, I’m very lucky to be surrounded by numerous Girl Beauty Geniuses. (GBGs, for short.) And my all-time favorite GBG is my great friend Tina Hedges, who has created probably 10 of the 15 products parked in your makeup bag right now. (She’s Co-President of the beauty brand incubator Twist new brand venture.)

One of Tina’s best look-great inventions is the Jonathan Product water filter. That little marvel (technically christened a “beauty water shower purification system”) is not only lovely to behold – the Maserati of the filter world, basically – it also zaps all the undesirables from H20 so that your skin and hair aren’t being bombarded with dastardly chemicals.

When Hubby and I hightailed it across the Hudson a few years ago, I left my beloved Jonathan Product filter behind for the lucky peeps who would next inhabit our Manhattan pad. I knew Hubby was quite smitten with the flying saucer-sized heads in our new showers, so I decided to pick my décor battles and move on.

Now, however, I suspect my locks might be paying the price for that sacrifice. Yes, I need a trim, but even before I hit the split-ends wall, my hair had a serious case of the blahs. Fried, frazzled, blech. And I think one big reason is the hard-as-nails wah-wah pouring forth from the New Jersey pipes.

Recently, I pestered Tina about my cockamamie scheme to wash my hair in bottled water. Turns out my plan is not so crazy after all. But, per Tina, there’s a catch: It has to be acidic water, not alkaline, because alkaline water roughs up the cuticle of your hair, generating frizz.

So essentially, the kind of water you want to wash your hair with is the opposite of the kind you should be drinking to balance your pH level.

According to Tina, one of the most alkalinic and pH-balancing bottled waters on the market (making it a great bet for quaffing) is Fiji. As for the most acidic bottled water, she didn’t have a ready answer for me (the gal’s got real work to do…), but suggested I buy a few varieties and test them using those little pH strips that you can get at any health food store. I’m such a wellness geek that I actually own some (Alkalive pH Stix).

But since we Momoverettes are also busy, busy, busy (maybe not as busy as Tina, but busy), and totally obsessed with our looks, I did some detective work so we wouldn’t have to test-strip. Voila, two options that tilt in the acidic direction: Perrier and Crystal Geyser Alpine Spring Water.

There were a few other acidic waters I stumbled upon, but they were flavored. And even I wouldn’t wash my hair in flavored water just to get rid of the frizzies. But can we please just discuss what a public service I provide? Who else would tell you just the right bottled water to wash your hair with? Only Momover Lady. Word…

I like so completely, totally knew this would happen: Staying home for the holidays – without friends and relatives spilling from the rafters – is mind-numbingly boring. As much as I love Hubby and the Wee Lass, it’s only Day 3 of a five-day weekend and I’m already (just a smidgy-widgy) “over” them.

So yesterday, after a big breakfast at the local pancake joint and an afternoon viewing of Tangled (so, so, soooo cute; one of my favorite Disney movies in ages), we all came back to Casa Us and dispersed to our separate floors. I was on Floor One, where the kitchen, living space and master bedroom and bath are. Twiddling my thumbs, I flicked on Nate Berkus (he’s so, so, soooo cute; but it’s only kinda one of favorite TV shows in ages).

I landed mid-segment, but from what I could gather, Nate’s guest was an executive from Westin Hotels, and she was on to tell us about all the tips we can deploy to make our dwellings look less like a home and more like a hotel.

I am so down with that concept I can’t even begin to tell you. I LOVE HOTELS. I WANT TO LIVE IN A HOTEL. Earlier in the year, I blogged about my sneaky trick for better sleep, which is hotel-centric. So clearly, whatever this Westin broad had to say was music to my ears. The big “take-aways”: Hotels are very clean, and extremely devoid of energy-zapping clutter. (I seem to recall some other hooey about “accent colors,” but I really wasn’t listening by that point…)

After watching that, I was so hopped-up I started cleaning and decluttering like a banshee. Immediately, those holiday blahs disappeared like dust bunnies under the sleigh bed. The next time I wanna curl up in a boredom-ball and take a nap, I have to remember how energizing it is to make like a miniaturized Martha Stewart.

The bad news: Hubby and I decided to stick close to home this year, so we won’t be celebrating Thanksgiving with any of our far-flung (read: Broken Arrow, St. Louis, Scottsdale, Vegas, etc.) family today.

The good news: We’re dining out with our little lady, so that means no yummy leftovers to weld themselves to my ass in the days to come.

If you ever want to stop yourself from over-eating — and it’s a personal choice, especially today, the funnest over-eating day of the entire year — have a little look-see at the calorie-counter on the elliptical or the treadmill.

This morning I was feeling so virtuous, hyperventilating through level 5 on the elliptical, set to The Hills because that’s the program that really drags you through the peaks and valleys and gets the ol’ heart pounding. After 30 minutes, I couldn’t get off that puppy fast enough.

And then I looked at the calorie meter. Drum roll…198.

Though I try really hard to live in my Barbie Bubble, a world in which no sad, depressing info ever breaks through, I’ve officially registered the fact that I can exercise super hard for half a freaking hour and still burn fewer than 200 calories.

This is why I’m not losing weight. I workout like a loony, but then I eat pretty much whatever I damn well please. Given my underactive thyroid (grrr…) and my age (double-grrr….), that isn’t a scenario that works for me anymore.

For fun (ha!), I just looked up the calorie-count of an average slice of pumpkin pie without whipped cream: 320. Then, since I was on a roll, I went ahead and sleuthed-out the calorie count of the average Thanksgiving dinner: 4500. Gross, right? So piggy-wiggy, and a total assault on your poor bod…

Seeing that makes me want to stick to Wee Lass-size portions. I can’t “just do it” in the gym, and then just undo it at the dinner table. Not if I want to be healthy, which I do. And not if I want to be a hot mama, which I totally do.

I’m dating myself (not literally, I just mean that…), but I’ve lived in New York long enough to have seen the original jaw-dropping, life-changing Mark Wahlberg / Kate Moss undie billboards in Times Square.

I know, I know: You’re so jealous right now you can barely keep reading. Mark PLUS Kate? When they were both unknown and just being sprung upon the world? It’s such a slice of pop-culture perfection I need to whip out my smelling salts to keep from fainting at the memory.

Flashforward 15 years and the dude has seriously, seriously got it going on. How do I know this? Because I’m a mama who loves herself some Tivo, and Mr. Wahlberg is executive-producing almost every show worth watching right now.

Cases in point: The beyond-superb Boardwalk Empire and the almost-needs-to-seen-in-real-time In Treatment. The casting alone is worth the price of admission. Steve Buscemi? Debra Winger? I die…

But back to All Things Mark. When I was at Cookie, I got handed the plum assignment of interviewing Rhea Durham. At the time, she hadn’t yet married him, but had just had the second of their four gorge kids. She was really lovely and gracious, even when I probably lobbed one too many questions about life with Mr. Muscles. And I’ll say this: She sounded extremely happy. She’d always wanted to be a mom, and though she was considering getting back into modeling a bit, she was quite content to let Mark get on with all his Mark-ness.

I thought about my chat with Mrs. Movie Star as I nabbed the new issue of Men’s Health at the newsstand this morning. Of course it’s for boys, but it happens to be a fabulous mag, bursting with useful info for both sexes. And I’ll certainly pass it along to Hubby when I’m finished reading all about “Six-Pack Abs!” and “16 Flat-Belly Foods!” and “Strip Away Stress!”

But I know Hubby will also laugh when he sees it parked on the coffee table. Because – quelle surprise - guess who’s on the cover?

Besides all the other stuff we have in common (unruly hair, an abiding passion for British Vogue, finding hubbies and having tots at fairly advanced ages), my mega-pal Alev and I share another obsession: insanely rich food. And now that we’ve both finally learned to cook (after years of dialing-for-dinner as Manhattan swingles), we’re finding that we’re each bringing our “fat tooth” straight into the family kitchen.

But Alev, for one, is on a mission to rein in the calories. And happily for us weight-aware Momoverettes, she’s penned an extremely user-friendly piece about it. “Cream, butter and sugar are magic ingredients, but they’re not exactly figure-friendly,” she writes in Rookie Cook: Learning to Feed a Family the Lean Way. “And my metabolism isn’t what it used to be.”

Amen, mama. Mine ain’t either. (Just ask my doc, who recently upped the dosage on my thyroid meds. Grrr…)

The article is chock-a-block with websites Alev has found helpful in her quest to tweak favorite recipes so they’re less fattening – but still delish, of course. Delish isn’t negotiable. And neither is ease of use. For me, one of the best discoveries is the Aussie site with the ‘What’s In Your Fridge’ feature. You just plug in a few of the odds and ends cluttering your shelves and voila, an instant game plan. How genius is that?

Yes, yes, I know, it’s Thanksgiving. Time for all hell to break loose, right? Doesn’t have to be. Just remember, it’s easy to pack it on and much harder to run, crunch, sweat and SoulCycle it off. As Oprah says, that’s what I know for sure.

Okay, so I like went to Target? On my birthday? With a $200 gift card from Hubby? And I gotta lotta great things? That I wanna share?  With my Momoverettes?

Cue the gum-snapping, hair-twirling and eye-rolling right about here…

Alrighty now, let’s get to what I bought:

1. An A-M-A-Z-I-N-G puffer coat by Converse One that cost a mere $49.99. I’d been on the hunt for a puffer, and considered several far pricier styles. But when I saw this baby it was love at first sight, mostly because of the massive shawly, hoodie bit, which lends an air of chic. Reminds me of those iconic Norma Kamali “Sleeping Bag” coats that clock in at 600 smackers.

2. Super-cute (and cruelty-free!) faux leather lace-up boots by Dolce Vita for Target. I spied these in the November issue of InStyle and immediately coveted them. There’s a gold zipper on the side, which makes them easy on and off and girly too.

3. and 4. Two warm and cozy faux fur accessories by Mossimo Supply Company: A neckwrap that I’ve already gotten about 90 compliments on, and a coordinating trapper hat that is, in all honesty, a bit snug for my fat head. But I’m gonna jam it on anyway, because one must suffer for beauty, no?

5. Another one of those Sonia Kashuk brown nylon bags that I’ve previously blogged about. I realize I’m veering into collector-slash-hoarder territory, but I just had to have the match-matchy Ultimate Weekender Bag. I promise to stop now. Pinkie swear…

6. This lovely “convertible” drawstring cardie, which looks like it cost a hell of a lot more than it actually did. Mine’s in heather gray.

7. Though I rarely wear heels these days, I’m sure I’ll be busting out the spikes for holiday soirées. When I do, I’ll be grateful I have these Dr. Scholl’s for Her Fast Flats tucked in my evening clutch.

Grand total: $198.90. Can’t beat that, right? So much mama-cuteness, for so little dough.

I’m so excited about a new four-week seminar series I’m about to attend – “Om for the Holidays” at Pure Yoga – that I’d be remiss in not sharing it with you, stat.

It kicks off this coming Tuesday evening (well, for me at least, because I’ve signed-up for the program at the West location; there’s a diff schedule for the East) and will feature sessions by leading get-it-together gurus, including life coaches, nutrition experts, a skincare whiz and an aromatherapist extraordinaire. Oh, and all the yoga classes you can wedge-in between power-shopping and sugar cookie-baking over the course of the month.

The big idea behind the series is that the holidays needn’t be this horrific, run-yourself-ragged time of year. With some smart planning, and a commitment to yourself to lower your stress levels, you can easily shift your mindset from: “What? A self-improvement course, NOW?” to “Yes! A self-improvement course, NOW!”

If you don’t live in the area, don’t worry your pretty little mama head about it. I’ll be filing recaps every Wednesday, and de-briefing you on the all the wisdom I’m collecting when I’m not wrapping the Wee Lass’s mountain of prezzies. Om…

La la la la…such a perfect birthday. After declaring a strike on all official business, I had a workout, a blowout, a shop-out and a très festive chicks-dinner dine-out.

(I’ll share the spoils of my Target “haul” in an upcoming post, because you are soooo going to want some of the great stuff I scored.)

So how could my special day have gone any better? Wait for it…

When I got home from partying like a rock star, I did a quick World Wide Interweb scan and spotted adorable pictures of Rachel Zoe sporting what looked to be a baby bump. And now she has confirmed, via twitter, what everyone has long suspected. Or in my case, hoped for. Those two are so cute I could just squish them, and I know having a tot-let is going to bring some much-needed balance to their glammed-up, fashion-fairytale life.

I realize it was just a coinky-dink that Rach “announced” on my birthday. Or was it?

I’m a bit slow on the uptake, but I get super confused about the whole Scorpio thing. That’s because we’re the only sign in the zodiac symbolized by not one, but three different creature-critters: scorpions, eagles and doves. I won’t trouble you with the mystical minutia of how one creature-critter segues into the next; the CliffsNotes take on it is that we Scorps are very, very big on transformation. We like to shake it up, keep things moving.

My mama-friend Alev calls me a “seeker.” I think that’s a compliment. It feels like one. All I can say is that in the past, my seeking sprang from wanting something more: a hubby, a baby, a house. Now that I have those things, I just like to wander down my little self-absorbed road because it’s extremely fun and keeps me out of “mommy martyr” country. Blech, right? We Momoverettes do not feel sorry for ourselves! We are self-absorbed and proud!

In the spirit of fresh starts, clean slates, etc., I want to make a few public promises to myself. There’s just something about “putting it out there” that really makes a goal stick like Laffy Taffy on the bottom of my cruelty-free navy Fuggs. So in the next year, I am committing to:

1. Meditating at least 100 times

2. Hanging out at the Chez Moi Spa at least 50 times

3. Losing at least 5 pounds (by far the hardest goal to tackle, as my bod is a primo blubber-hoarder)

4. Giving myself a complete belly Momover (whatever that entails, including, possibly, P90X)

5. Figuring out the hair situation (Do I chop it off à la ScarJo? Grow it down to my –s? Go bankrupt on blowouts? Let my frizz freak flag fly? Soooo many burning issues…)

Clearly I have my work cut out for me. Yay!