You meet a guy. He’s cute, he’s charming and he makes you want to take off your clothes and jump his bones. And then – score! – he asks to come home with you. So, you finish your drink (read: chug that bitch), say goodbye to your friends (read: scream to them across the bar, “LATER, LADIES!), hail a cab and head back to your place.

As you fidget with the keys to your house you begin to think to yourself, this guy is too good to be true. There must be something wrong with him. Right? But what could it be? Bad in bed? Weird rash? Miniscule manhood?

Not that it matters – it’s the motion in the ocean, right? Well, now you can know exactly what you are dealing with…down there. Yes, ladies, someone has done the unthinkable: they took a condom and a ruler and put it all together into one handy dandy little (or, if you’re lucky, big) package. Read More »

There are some attributes to the summer season that make it less than perfect. One of these is the prevalence of muffin top sightings, and I’ve just got to vent.

It’s not so much the muffin top in and of itself that irks me. It is OSTS, or One-Size-Too-Small Syndrome, afflicting so many girls that just baffles me.

Why do I refer to this…issue… as OSTS instead of the popular, Muffin Top? Well, in my humble opinion, the phrase “muffin top” implies that the offender is what she eats, and likely has a fondness for Oreos and Taco Bell. This simply is not always true. Skin hanging over your waistband does not mean fatness. I’ve seen girls who can’t possibly be any bigger than a size 4 with a muffin top, and it’s not that they’re at all chubby. Instead, it’s that they insist they’re a size two, and the end result in the obvious: OSTS. It’s not pretty. Read More »

A few days ago, a poll showed up on the CC homepage that really irked me. Actually, let me correct myself: it wasn’t the poll itself that irked me—it was the results.

The question was, “What’s your ideal dress size?” and the answer choices were 2-4, 6-8, and 10-12. With barely a second thought, I clicked on 6-8 (my size right now as well as my ideal) to weigh in on the poll. When I saw the results so far, with about 70 votes tallied, my jaw about hit the floor. FIFTY-NINE PERCENT of voters picked 2-4 as their ideal dress size. That’s three out of every five women!

If you’re naturally very petite or tiny and/or if your doctor has actually told you that your ideal size should be 2-4, then you’re excused from my rant right now. Everybody else: listen up. Aren’t you the same girls who stand up against unrealistic media portrayals of women, who defend the fact that women aren’t and shouldn’t all be a size 2, and speak up about how seeing skinny models everywhere is bad for women’s self-images?

If so, then HOW can you turn your backs on all that and confess in a poll that you really want to be a size 2-4? Read More »

How do I hate celebrities with tiny dogs? Let me count the ways.

First, they treat their dogs as accessories. While I traditionally think that any dog smaller than a microwave is ugly, it’s not a tiny dog’s fault that he or she was born tiny. It is, however, a celebrity owner’s fault if she treats her dog as if it were a fashionable new Prada belt.

Hello! A dog is a living thing! If you’re going to treat it like a diamond necklace instead of like an animal, don’t get it in the first place. Yes, Paris Hilton, I am talking to you.

Point two—microscopic dogs are not cute. I know I already covered this, but it’s so important I feel the need to say it again. When a celebrity with flowing locks and perfect makeup is slobbering all over her Chihuahua, it looks like she’s kissing Swamp Thing. The fact that anyone would want to touch lips that have kissed every inch of a dog the size of a cotton ball is a mystery to me. Read More »

Shopping for me is a pain at best, and traumatizing at worst. Unflattering lighting, three-way mirrors, and those damn stick-figure mannequins that seems to be modeled after the Olsens. It’s one thing to be jealous of impossibly thin celebrities—it’s quite another to envy the figure of a plastic, headless doll.

Well, it seems that I’m not the only one who feels this way, at least about the mannequins. The entire country of Spain agrees. The Health Ministry of Spain and major retailers like Zara and Mango have come to the agreement that the skeletal mannequins must be banned. Read More »

Yeah, I wear push-up bras, and I’m not afraid to admit it.

In fact, these days I don’t touch anything that isn’t Styrofoamy or unidentifiable liquidy. Sure, that lacy thing is pretty, but if it ain’t padded, it ain’t perfect.

My boobs aren’t small. They’re not big either. They’re right in the middle, somewhere between I’m-Running-Free-In-A-Backless-T-Shirt! and Even-Straight-Girls-Stare-At-Them!

Growing up, I was so freaked out by my body that I would grab things off the rack at Target without even looking, and thus have never truly figured out my size.

Somewhere along the line I realized that knowing your exact bra size wasn’t as important as the padding that pushed the boobs up, and since then, I’ve made it my hobby the find all the new kinds of padding and try them all out personally. Read More »