Size 6

Has anyone seen Mariah Carey lately? She claims she wears a size 6. I just want to sneak up behind her on the red carpet, get up in her ear and whisper really loudly, "Girl, you know you don't wear no size 6... 16 maybe... but it ain't no 6."

Not that it matters, of course. I am happy to have Mariah Carey joining the throngs of plus-sized pretties who are in the public eye. She obviously isn't unhealthy. She's not gasping for breath while performing live. She is curvaceous and beautiful. Juicy, even. And all that juicy is not squeezing into a size 6. Not that it matters...

In fact, when does size ever matter? Really... Today I went to a store and tried on the same shirt in two sizes. They both fit me exactly the same and I am convinced that this size thing is really just a scam. Over the course of time, human beings have grown... bigger. That's a fact. And the standard size 6 of today is not the size 6 of yesteryear. So we are all living a farce. I hate to say it but my size 14 jeans are probably really about a 22. But that little 14 that the manufacturer puts inside my jeans makes me feel good. They tell us what we want to hear...

We all know Mariah is not alone. Women everywhere continue to refuse to accept their true size. They deny the real number which has been assigned to their hips and their butts and their rolls of back fat. And, up until recently I have thought that answer to the size war was to re-train women to be proud of their true size. While I have not given up on that fight, I have a new solution to help us pass the time. CUT THE TAGS OUT OF YOUR CLOTHES. Just like Mariah. Noone but you will ever have to know.

Without the tags, we can all be a size six.

Last Day on Earth

What would you do if you knew that it was your last day on earth?

If it was my last day on earth, I would take my dog to the park. We'd walk for a while. I'd smell the green grass and touch the earth one last time with my toes. I would stare up into the blue sky and allow the sun to kiss my cheeks once more.

I would eat peanut butter chocolate ice cream.

I would wear my favorite Webster U. sweatshirt that is so thin it isn't really a sweatshirt any more.

I would sing all day. I would sing to strangers on the street. I would sing to anyone who would listen.

I would smile at everyone I passed and thank all of those who need thanking.

I would find a comfortable spot to sit and with my phonebook in hand, I would call everyone in it. Each of them is listed there for one reason or another but he or she may not even know it. I would let each one know that I didn't have time to talk but... "I just wanted to let you know what you mean to me and what you have meant to my life."

And as the day drew to a close and dusk came, I would gather up everyone that I love in one room. I would look deeply into each one's eyes. I would memorize every face. I would touch them and hug them and feel them close to me one more time or maybe for the first time. I would tell them how intensely I love each of them and how my every waking minute was made better just for knowing them. I would ask for forgiveness, knowing that I am not the easiest person to love... or even to like.

Fortunately or unfortunately, most of us don't know what day will be our last. But if you did know... what would you do? Contemplating death, sometimes clarifies what is important to us in life.

Three Cheers for Wentworth Miller

I try not to waste space on this blog. I want to offer you compelling thoughts and opinions that will stir you to contemplate life in a way that you may not have done before or that will speak to you in such a familiar voice that you may wonder if you wrote this stuff yourself or even if I am reading your mind.

The following is neither stirring nor compelling. It is simply an endorsement. I firmly believe that if a woman finds a good thing, she should share it with other women. Wentworth Miller is a good thing ladies. He's damn good. If you have seen the new television phenomenon, PRISON BREAK, you are familiar with this outstanding specimen of a man. Or perhaps you saw him in THE HUMAN STAIN.

He is 33 years old and is of Black, Jamaican, English, German, French, Dutch, Syrian and Lebanese descents.A demonstration of the simplistic beauty derived from the melting pot which our world is becoming...

Wentworth Miller.