Body Image
As much as I admire the discipline necessary to dance one’s way down to having a concave chest (which yes, I have seen), I myself am not disciplined. At all.
And, it being Valentine’s Day, I love chocolate too much.
(In case you’re wondering, we had a fantastic time eating paella at a great Spanish restaurant downtown. It really was one of the best meals I’ve eaten: salad with champagne vinaigrette, paella with scallops the size of my fist, homemade focaccia, and a dessert of what I like to call Heaven: chocolate mousse, chocolate brownie, chocolate cake, and chocolate-dipped strawberries. Oh, and I also ordered a drink in an attempt to be cultured and ended up drinking about two sips before declaring it too strong for my tastes. Hey, I didn’t want to get silly.)
(Seriously, people, it was some combination of vodka and sparkling wine. I should learn to stick with fruit smoothies when I want to get fancy.)
Perhaps this post was inspired by that evening’s attire - The Red Dress. A satin sheath dress with a flounce hem and flamenco dancer-like black lace peeking out of the bottom. I felt pretty darn cute, mostly because it made me look like I had hips. It was a strange feeling, walking into a room and feeling curvaceous - not incredibly out of shape, like I do when I go to ballet, but curvaceous.
Like this: 
My dear friend Adrienne claims Scarlett I Can’t Spell Her Last Name looks like a beached whale. To this, I can only say I agree.
If by beached whale you mean Botticelli’s Venus!
Seriously, she looks amazing! All Old Hollywood bombshell amazing! The way I wish I looked every day and almost felt like I looked in The Red Dress! She’s all pale and curvy and pouty, too, which is so incredibly refreshing!
Discipline’s great and everything, but when all’s said and done, I think we would all take a heart-shaped box of Russell Stover’s over a concave chest.
