What a Happy Life! Years ago, after explaining the difference between salmon patties and crabcakes, A friend once told me in jest that I would make someone a great trophy wife. What a Happy Life! While I have always aspired to have nice things, I couldn’t fathom where one would make such an assumption…
Now here I am with many reasons why I have a happy life: My husband is the tall, sexy, handsome love of my life; we have five delightful children; living in my favorite city. I have friends; I have my health;
I’m really tired today. I’ve had a really busy day. See, I’m experimenting with a new pose.
The whole hand-on-hip thing is getting a bit old (something I’ll never be — yay!). I live such a happy life, Anyway, it’s kind of exhausting standing in my Jimmy Choos in front of a mirror, studying myself. I pride myself on not having to exercise … yet. I “play” Golf only because I look smokin’ in those short skirts and the Golf Clinics at Hawks Ridge rock! My hubby thinks it’s good exercise, but I like the Golf Cocktails more than the Golf. Cocktails do seem to make life more tolerable, wouldn’t you agree? As you can well imagine, I am in dire need of stress relief. And anyway, weight gain isn’t an issue for me because I don’t really eat. Of course, there is my salad-for-lunch/dressing-on-the-side/bread-refusal strategy, but sometimes I fall off the wagon and eat a bread stick. So sue me. lol
A lot of prep and expense go into being me. It can also be painful. The first time I had Botox, Oh Dear Lord, I had a headache for three days and I couldn’t make it to the Boutique trunk show. Heartbreak — especially since my forehead was so smooth, you couldn’t even tell I was sad. And that was on the heels of getting my lips plumped. That can take a whole afternoon. Then I have to wait while the swelling goes down. I always try to schedule doing my lips on a Monday when I know I don’t have to go out that night and be seen. That’s when Honey and I stay in to watch Monday Night Football. He likes it when I serve him snacks in my sexy Victoria Secret nightie. He also knows that Monday nights are no-kissing nights, since my lips are recovering from the injections. That’s when I get to be creative. 😉
I guess my favorite pastime is shopping. Randy took the news about all my shopping excursions in stride. Of course, I did tell him over cocktails. The thing I always ask myself when I go shopping is “Do I look hot in this?” and then “How much is it?”
Let me explain. I am a rare and precious creature. That is what my baby tells me. So it doesn’t serve me to look just okay. I have to look hot. He isn’t with me because I can cook! The way my boo puts it is that he has an investment in me. The Botox, collagen, facials, waxings, mani/pedis, hair color, blowouts, tans — that’s the “art” I put on my “canvas.” And when it comes to clothes, why would you cover up the Mona Lisa with a Beefy-T? So my baby wants to drape me with the best that money can buy. I can’t help it if my pooky wants perfection. After all, I am a representation of him in the world.
All my girlfriends are super hot too. My grandma always said to me, “Are your friends cute? Because if they’re cute, then you’re cute, and that’s really cute, to all be cute.” She was so right! My pretty girlfriends inspire me to keep refining my look. They help me when I’m down by taking me out in big, dark sunglasses to someplace like Nobu and pretending that I’m super famous so when I come out and rush into my car, the paparazzi take pictures. It’s such a rush. We all laugh and scream in my black mercedes on the way home. Then I go online to see what I look like. I have a whole room full of pictures of me and my honey all blown up.
I have to go get ready for something now. Ugh, I would rather be at home watching RHOA. But if it makes my sugar doll happy, you can sure as hell bet I’ll look kick-ass.