L Strikes Again

L. is my friend of sorts, but she is making my life miserable. Without knowing it. Mostly via Facbook. Because you see, I too am a former model with cheekbones and lips. I just got caught by a wicked witch and turned into "fat chick." This week it got so bad, I was watching "Lost" and there was John Locke, who had his paralysis healed during the crash. They flashed back to a scene where he was still in his wheel chair and I gasped. This is me, I thought. These sixty pounds are my handicap!

Palin Power

Yesterday, when I was nursing a panic attack hang-over (almost ran out of hipster Echo Park hair salon with a head full of foils), I asked myself: what would Sarah Palin do? What would a woman do who really is a total tea party toggle head yet feels she is qualified for the presidency? What would it feel like to be so confident, so cocksure, so brazen, so NOT haunted by anxiety and hunted by the past? What would she do? She would roll up her sleeves and run for office. So, as the walls turned black at the Sears photo studio and the merchandise threatened to whirl around me like a tornado, I held on to Palin Power. And it came and went.

Dr. A

Butterbabies is back after a two-month hiatus. I've spent some time licking my wounds after Dr. S retired. I felt too fragile to lash out, even to myself, too broken to think about fall fashion or fat jokes. But butterbabies has rested long enough. So, without further ado, let us introduce Dr. A, an overeducated, black, fay Harvard man with a limp handshake who has a black power painting in his office. Just this and various Harvard degrees. Nothing personal. He reeks of academia. Here the patient is truly a patient, i.e. less than human, defined by his condition, confined by her prescription. I asked him, in so many words: can you help me? He can't, but he wrote me a new prescription for R. He's good looking. Pale skin. Obama-esque. C'est ca.

Fat Like Me

A long time ago, I accidentally walked into a room full of fat people. Someone noticed and said: I don't think you belong here. I weighed 118 pounds and had terrible anxiety. The person showed me down the hall to another fluorescent lit room where a sob session was in full swing: EA, or Emotions Anonymous. I hated every second of it and never went back. The other meeting I had happened upon was OE, or Overeaters Anonymous, and today at noon in Pasadena things will come full circle. I'm not a closeted overeater, but last night when I could not sleep and our living room must have been 90 degrees, I ate the last of Milan's crackers. And, as everyone knows, 200 extra calories a day add up to 2 extra pounds a month. So here I am, taking the most drastic of measures. The chocolate truffle would be proud!

Boss Lady

I wonder what kind of work Anna Wintour has had done. She doesn't look like a fullblown facelift. Injections for sure. I actually could relate to her in The September Issue. I used to be an ice queen, too, before I became a humanitarian Joan of Arc kind of mentoring figure. I need to sharpen my claws again methinks, and become boss lady. After all, my life's purpose isn't making galleons of unpaid interns happy.

Woman at Work

Sometimes I have to pinch myself and remind that nagging little Butterbaby that I have a room with a view (of the Hollywood Hills), a well-paying, reliable gig with loads of freedom to do whatever I please pretty much, with a doorman who is sorry I am fat and another who has a crush on me, plus a psycho alcoholic neighbour who's a lawyer of sorts and who parks too close to my car (sometimes crashes INTO my car but pays for it) and a French boss who is sophisticated and insane but who thinks I am pretty cool overall, having delivered some of our biggest traffic pushers. Yes, things are good in wonderland, missy. If only I hadn't eaten raisin bread and tons of cheese for dinner, things would be just swell!

Did You Check Your Serotonin Levels Today?

Note to self: stop looking at pictures of L. who is skinny and fabulous and whose life is a cabaret of joys. It's not her fault that you have a problem with your serotonin levels, dude. It's not her fault she's a former model with legs up to here and good muscle tone. Stop looking at her FB profile! That would be a start.