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What happens when you put old boobs in a new bra?

They’re still old boobs. But hey, they are somewhat perkier.


James was hinting that my old togs and under things were somewhat dreary. Really? We need to go down this road? I need comfort. I need flexibility. Watching Downton Abbey is hard work. I need the most accommodating wardrobe possible. I am no Victoria Secret model.

You’ll have to click on over to Bonbon Break to read if I gave in to James’ lingerie wishes. And what exactly happened to the ‘girls’.

A guide to married sex in your 40s

Twenty somethings- listen up. Twenty years from now, sex is going to be really different. Especially if you get married and have kids. I don’t know what single person forty something sex is like. You’ll have to ask someone else.

But almost middle aged sex (forties count as middle aged right?), is really different. Some might say lazy and infrequent. I say, simplified and comfortable.

First there’s foreplay. There are two kinds of foreplay. The Race Track and the Camp Fire Starter.

The Race Track is when you’re laying on your side away from your husband. You ask for a back rub. He reaches out one arm and traces what feels like a figure eight. He continues with this pattern for about 10 times and then says, “there, how’s that?”

Wow. That’s, uhm, excellent. I feel SO relaxed. It was just like the spa.

The Camp Fire Starter is when you’ve both gotten in bed on each prospective side. I call this, the safe zone. I lie on my side, he lies on his. He decides to explore the slight possibility, we’re talking slim here, that I might be ‘interested’. He ventures out of the safe zone and daringly puts his hand on my pajama covered knee and rubs back and forth. It’s a random kind of thoughtless motion. Nervous back and forth, back and forth. The friction starts to cause heat and sometimes sparks fly. Not those romantic sparks. But actual static electricity emitted from the flannel.

I then joke, “are you trying to start a S’mores cookout here, or would you like to get busy?”

Next. Lube.

I don’t know what else to say but you will need it. Peri menopause makes your lady box like a beach. A sandy and dry beach. Even when you think you might be raring and ready to go. It’s a dehydrated box of fruit leather.

Now let’s move on to position.

Not positionS plural, no. Position. There’s really only one. I like to call it the side by side. It’s a way I figured out how for both of us to be on the bottom.

Sad, huh?

He’ll say, “Dontcha want to get on top?”

I’ll say, “Uhm not really. How about you?”

Him, “I’m kind of tired. It’s good, you go.”

Me, “I think it feels better with you on top. You get up.”

Him, “I’ll lay here and you turn to the side.”

Me, “Oh, this is genius. We can BOTH lay down and do it!”

There’s an actual part of me, the part that is from the neck down, that wants to just have sleep sex. I think it would be awesome if we could just have intercourse with our minds. I’m sure some evolved person like Sting, or Gwyneth Paltrow has come up with a way to do this.

It would be the perfect lazy person sex. Mind sex. Didn’t the movie Judge Dredd with Sandra Bullock have them do that? Or am I getting my 80′s pre-Speed era movies confused?

So let’s review-

Race track and Camp Fire are the two kinds of foreplay.

Lube is necessary because your lady business is like a food dehydrator.

One position is all you need. The side by side.

And there is your Guide to Married Sex in your 40s. Don’t get too excited now.

Oh, and after you’ve copulated and are enjoying a cigarette, be sure to read your copy of I JUST WANT TO BE ALONE.

What? You didn’t expect me not to plug the book did you?



Buy the book and I will show my pasties. I mean pastries.

It’s come to this. Bribery. Yep. Or mutual favors. Either one, you be the judge.

Like Mama Morton says in the musical Chicago,

“They say that life is tit for tat
And that’s the way I live
So, I deserve a lot of tat
For what I’ve got to give”

So yeah. Reciprocity.

Buy. The. Book.

You heard me. Did I whisper? No.


Here’s why. We are working our balls off to get on the New York Times Best Seller List. It’s a big flippin’ deal.

Self-published works just don’t get there. So we want to sell a bajillion more copies than Danielle Steel or that smutty E.L. Whatsherface James.  Because we’re super lady writers.

It’s a bit like the little engine that could. Or David and Goliath. Or when Laura beat Nellie Olsen in that horse race in Walnut Grove. I’m not really sure where I’m going with this, but the point is to buy the book. How about several and give them as gifts. And then spread the word for everyone to buy the book.

What’s in it for you? Geeze people. It’s like you’re never satisfied. Not only do I give you a truly juicy book of stories, but I guess I need to sweeten the deal. Huh?


If we get to the New York Times best seller list:

I, Frugalista Blog, will create a video of myself ordering in my local Starbucks Drive Thru while topless.

You heard (read) me. Topless.

Okay, in order not to get arrested, there might need to be some nipple coverage. We’ll figure that out.

Deal? Deal.

So go on. What are you waiting for? Order it!!

Click here to order via Amazon



Barnes & Noble

Frugie goes commando to get on the NYT list

*commando (sort of) but not arrested.

We’re sharing some of our privates. Thoughts that is.

Well, I mean, we’re sharing deep in the confines of our genius minds. Not what’s under our skirts.

It’s time for a fun round of “Get to know your authors”.  There’s so many hilarious minds that have contributed to the book, I Just Want To Be Alone, I thought I would give you a peek into those genius heads of ours.

Have I said genius more than once? Sorry. I guess I’m a little excited.

We asked each other some questions and the responses beat any Barbara Walters interview you’ve seen.

Here goes-


Q: How did you come up with the name of your blog?

  •  My blog’s name is “You’re my favorite today” because it’s something I regularly say to one of my children. But only one of them.  -Michelle Newman, You’re My Favorite Today
  • My blog’s name is “Abby Has Issues” because a) I’m a magazine editor/writer and b) I have serious issues. See what I did there? -Abby Heugel, Abby Has Issues
  • I’ve always called my kids my life suckers. Because they suck the life out of me. So when it came time to name my blog it was the obvious choice. – Deva Dalporto, MyLifeSuckers


Q: What is your biggest daily accomplishment?

  • My motto is…”It’s 3:00. Have you showered yet?” I’m about 50/50 on most days. -Stacey Hatton, Nurse Mommy Laughs
  • I wasn’t aware I was required to accomplish things on the daily. – Nicole Leigh Shaw, Ninja Mom Blog
  • Not killing or divorcing the Hubs. We work together. From home. All day. All alone. Just the two of us. There are days the sound of his breathing irritates me and I know the feeling is mutual. -Jen, People I Want To Punch In The Throat
  • Keeping track of the milk cap, avoidance of stepping on Legos and getting to the mailbox before the Hubby does all tie for number one.  -Christine, Keeper of The Fruit Loops

Q: if you could only have one food and one beverage for one full month, what would it be?

  • A warm french baguette with garlic butter and a cold, crisp Chardonnay – Michelle Newman, You’re My Favorite Today.
  • Cream puffs. Except I’m allergic to dairy and gluten so I would have diarrhea and be barfing the whole month. But it might be worth it. - Deva Dalporto, MyLifeSuckers
  • For food, I’d say anything that isn’t my toddler’s sandwich crust. For drink, my nerves say wine but my liver says coffee.  - Robyn, Hollow Tree Ventures

Q: If you could sing one song on American Idol, what would it be? 

  • “I Get Lost in Your Eyes” by Debbie Gibson. If acid washed jeans deserve a comeback, so does bubblegum pop. – Jen, PIWTPITT
  • Jen of PIWTPITT stole my answer of “I Get Lost In Your Eyes” so I will have to go with “The Rose” by Bette Middler or “Popular” from Wicked.  I have mad singing skills.  True story:  I once brought the house down in a bar in Antigua with my rendition of “Hopelessly Devoted To You” to Hubby on his 40th.  I’m kind of a big deal at Sandals… -Christine, Keeper of The Fruit Loops
  • Karoke is more my style…but if I was on the big stage I would sing “My Love Don’t Cost a Thing” just to get on J. Lo’s good side (and for future reference, her “good side” is her left because that’s next Harry Connick Jr.) -Katie, Somewhat Sane Mom


Q: When was the last time you cried?

  • At almost 9-months pregnant with my third baby, when was the last time I DIDN’T cry? It’s like puberty with all body hair and no period. -Stephanie, When Crazy Meets Exhaustion
  • Watching the Olympics. We Canadians weep over hockey. – Leanne Shirtliffe, Ironic Mom
  • When I was watching Frozen with my three year old during “Do You Want to Build a Snowman” when you realize that the parents died and these sisters have such a gulf between them and they’re all alone in the world. Shut up. It’s sad. – Meredith, From Meredith to Mommy
  • I never cry, but I cried twice in the same day last week. Once because I had my first Internet troll and again watching “Undercover Boss.” Don’t judge. Those employees all have such sad stories. Anyway, I think I’m good for a year now, at least. -Abby, Abby Has Issues

Q: What’s the best gift you’ve given? Received?

  • My husband brought me a boll of cotton. That’s an actual cotton plant, the fluffy white top. He was working in the field with a sales representative way back in the days of our courtship. He asked the sales rep that was driving him through parts of rural North Carolina to pull over next to a cotton field. He jumped out and snatched a plant. When he returned to the car the sales rep explained that cotton poaching is a great way to get shot by a farmer. So, yeah, my husband’s pretty bad ass. -Nicole Leigh Shaw, Ninja Mom Blog
  • Somebody gave me some exceptional sperm. I should see my ideal children, is that what you meant? -Magnolia Ripkin
  • My blogger friend Allison of MotherhoodWTF? kept posting pictures of vulva cupcakes on my Facebook wall, so I mailed her handmade giant vulva-shaped bars of soap. No one can out-vulva me. As for received? A young, shy girl who I knew had a hard home life that attended the creative writing class I led at a Boys & Girls Club in Boston made me a bracelet and silently slipped it onto my wrist during a session one day. I’ve kept it ever since, about 15 years now. – Kim Bongiorno, Let Me Start By Saying

Q:  What do you think about when you are alone in your car?

  • Alone….in the car? Does this happen to others with any sort of regularity? When it does, or when a DVD has silenced the backseat, I play audiobooks and think back to the days when I would tear through an audiobook a week. Oh, and I have conversations with phantom others, either planning out how the conversation will go in the future, or reliving conversations from the past with more favorable results on my part. If only people followed my scripts. – Meredith, From Meredith to Mommy
  • Whether or not the driver next to me realizes he’s driving next to the woman who’s husband was once on a billboard. Christine- Keeper of The Fruit Loops
  • I finish arguments with more witty comebacks than I did in real life. -  ME!
  • Some people can hear themselves think? I am rarely ever alone in the car, but when I am I think of nothing until I realize that I am still playing the children’s CD and then I wonder how the hell I didn’t notice for 20 blocks. -Kathy, Kissing the Frog
  • I think up brilliant blog ideas. Luckily, I can call my blogging partner, Erin, to write them down for me, since the law frowns upon writing and driving. – Ellen, Sisterhood of the Sensible Moms

Q: What three things can’t you live without?

  • Oxygen, Water, a Iodized Salt. Is this a technical question? – Nicole Leigh Shaw, Ninja Mom Blog
  • Chapstick, tea, toilet paper.- Me
  • Coffee, chips & habenero salsa, ipad. – Andrea, The Underachiever’s Guide to Being a Domestic Goddess

Q:  Who/What scares you?

  • Permanant markers and glitter glue. – Stacey Hatton, Nurse Mommy Laughs.
  • Toilets that flush backwards, Zack Galfiinakis’ beard, and a tampon I’ve left in too long.  TMI?  Christine, Keeper of the Fruit Loops
  • Parents who say, “Not my kid. Never.” And The Conjuring. I never should have watched that movie. I can’t go into a basement alone anymore. Luckily, we don’t have a basement. – Bethany Meyer, I Love Them the Most When They’re Sleeping
  • Auditions. Asking for money. Kevin Spacey on House of Cards.- Me

Q:  What was the last good deed you did?

  • They were out of carts in Walmart, so I went out to the parking lot and got not only one, nay, I got five and passed them out like they were quarters and I was the Tooth Fairy. Coincidentally, the Tooth Fairy gets a lot of business from the citizens of Walmart. -Ellen Williams, Sisterhood of the Sensible Moms
  • I am very active at my church. Shocker, I know. In fact, I give a lot of children’s sermons and still, I’ve not been struck dead by the Lord. -Nicole Leigh Shaw, Ninja Mom Blog
  • I spent extra time with a student at school…I brought her lunch and we ate together.  She is super sweet and I don’t think she gets much attention at home.  -Katie, Somewhat Sane Mom

Q:  What was the last thing you splurged on?

  • A badass minivan. – Jen, PIWTPITT
  • A new furnace motor because being a responsible adult is bullshit. -Abby, Abby Has Issues
  • A new stove. And then I realized that I have truly become a housewife. Our next splurge? New energy saving doors. Be still my heart. – Meredith, From Meredith to Mommy


See? Aren’t we hilarious? There’s your peek into our GENIUS (sorry, overused) minds. Now go buy the book!!

I Just Want to BE Alone Available on Amazon


I (still) Just Want to Be Alone

I know. It’s so Greta Garbo of me isn’t it?

I love my family and my friends and my husband. I can’t imagine a world without them. But I can imagine a world where I have a separate quiet room away from them. Where I get to read and watch and eat without being interrupted.

Is that too much to ask?

Well, maybe as a mother it is.

I asked on my Facebook page last week how many times you have to step away from your morning cup of coffee or tea? Once? Twice? Too many to count?

Everyone. And I mean, everyone commented that they can’t even keep track how often they have to reheat their coffee and then sometimes even forget it in the microwave only to find it later when they’re nuking lunch time’s mac ‘n cheese.

Before I even started blogging, a friend of mine told me around Mother’s day that her single wish was to drink her coffee in one setting and not have to put it in the microwave.

Like a Hobbit has second breakfast- I have second caffeination. The first round is just the wake up round. I make a pot of tea right at 6 am to wake up. I drink a few mugs of it while I’m packing lunches, fixing breakfast, wrangling homework, finding ‘lost’ shoes. You know. Mom stuff.

Then when the kids are at school, I have Second Caffeine. This will either be tea again or coffee or espresso. It will include something sweet to be eaten alongside.

If I’m extra lucky, it’s an outing to a bakery. But that is only once in awhile.

In honor of cold cups of mom coffee everywhere- I give you another reminder to pre-order your copy of

I Just Want To Be Alone. Click the picture to order your copy!

I know you can’t wait to read my essay!

I Just Want To Be Alone pre order on Amazon



That time when I farted in public

When I farted in public

I’m not proud of it. Certainly not. The Dowager Countess would be most displeased with me. Or maybe she would raise her eyebrows and just say something perfectly witty.

But I thought if I shared my story, it would help others share theirs. Like a support group of sorts.

An,‘I’ve broken wind accidentally in front of strangers’ support group.

It was a winter’s day before Christmas. The reason this is important is because this means that it was crowded. Plenty of witnesses.

I had just met a friend for coffee. For some reason after my latte, my stomach was extra grumbly. Everyone knows that I avoid dairy for this very reason. I had a soy latte of course. And yet, I was still very rumbly in my tumbly. Said Winnie the Pooh.

I had left the Starbucks and needed to run errands next door at the drug store to pick up some random things and some stocking stuffers. I had my arms laden with whatever it was I found. Some Seahawks socks for Owen, candy canes and chocolate Santas, lip gloss (oh, that was for me), a box of tissues, some vitamins… you get the idea.

There was one cashier and the line was a few people long already. I felt a little bit like I needed to go to the bathroom. But who wants to put their armload of merchandise down and track down an employee to let you in the back room? I figured, I can handle this. No biggy.

I remember exactly while listening to the overhead Christmas music, feeling a little overwhelmed in the bowel area. Hmm… was this a bad idea? Should I have just headed home after coffee and ditched the errands? But then I would have to go back out the next day, or later, and you know how it is. You want to get stuff done.

There was an older woman in front of me and an older woman standing behind me. I acted busy on my phone. The wait was at least 7 minutes. 6 minutes and 49 seconds too long.

My stomach was really feeling ‘active’. But I was going to be okay. It’s not like I felt like I was about to have diarrhea or something. It was just ‘busy’.

And then it just happened.

I tooted.

Like a horn.

It was succinct and audible. Like a sound effect.

I played it cool.

I did the old ‘act casual-nothing to see here-poker face’.

I checked messages on my phone. I started making random coughing and throat clearing noises. I’m not sure why. Was it an attempt at a decoy sound?

And then I started to hum and make raspberry noises too. Just whatever I could think of that would create a diversion to the actual trumpet sound that came from my posterior. By accident.

After the first second or two, my initial shock turned to horror as I dreaded the idea of ‘WHAT IF IT SMELLED?’

I am glad to announce that it didn’t. I don’t think. I mean, not to me anyway.

I am truly sorry if you get offended by farts. This was not intended to offend. Merely to rally any brothers and sisters in arms that have flatulated on accident.

It’s traumatic, I will say.

I imagined all those people thinking, ‘Did I just hear a fart? I swear I did and that blond lady looks really guilty.’

I feel so much better that I have come clean with my confession.

I’ve aired my grievances. In more ways than one.

When your husband acts like a numbnut, you write about it in a book.

Don’t worry. My husband is totally fine with anything I say on my blog about him. (Pause) Just kidding!

(And keep reading because there’s a really cool announcement at the bottom. No- don’t just scroll to the bottom, that’s cheating!)

Well, he’s fine with ALMOST anything. And trust me, I’m not totally throwing him under the bus with this post. Sort of. Kind of. Maybe just a little.

It’s not like I’m telling you about the time he cut the window shade’s cord too short so that we couldn’t lower our blinds all the way on our front windows in our first house.

It’s not like I’m telling you about the time he wore two different colored shoes to work. At least they were the same brand, so they were similar. One brown and one black. To his credit it was a dark winter morning when he left for work that day and he probably couldn’t see them very well.

OR the time he dumped his Grandma’s Christmas tree illegally on a vacant lot but locked himself out of his running vehicle only to have his grandmother have to come get him. It was January and he was trying to do her a favor by ridding the old tree for her.

And let’s just get something straight. My husband is a very smart man. I am not emasculating him in any way. His masculinity is just fine. No, I’m not a bitch. All the time. We all do dumb stuff. If he wants to start a blog and write about me. So be it.

I think when you go on a vacation or trip together it brings out what bothers you most about a person. And since we just spent 4 nights in a hotel room together sharing a double bed with his 6’2″ frame bent into my side of the bed, I got a little peeved. Yes, he will say he didn’t have enough room. But he needs to admit that his bony ass was on my side of the bed. It’s like we were reverse spooning. And not in a cuddly way, but in a ‘I just want to sleep dammit’ way.

So I wax and wane from utter love and admiration to just contempt for this man sometimes. I’m a pendulum on a clock. I swing back and forth.

While we were walking back to the hotel arguing if it was a half mile or quarter mile, which he insisted it was, and I was tired and felt it was actually 4 miles, but whatever; I remembered a situation when he didn’t use his smarts. When he wasn’t necessarily ‘right’ in the situation. Maybe better judgement could have been used. You be the judge.

Once upon a time, I was a pregnant woman on bed rest. I was about 36 weeks pregnant and very immobile. Like a beached whale. I was pregnant with Emma and not allowed to be on my feet for more than 20 minutes a day. Not that I could have been on my feet for more than 20 minutes a day because I couldn’t even SEE my feet.

We had season tickets for the Seahawks in those days. They had demolished the old Kingdome and were building a new stadium so they used the neighboring college campus of the University of Washington Huskies for the games that season. A perfectly acceptable stadium, but completely different than the old facility we were used to.

James took it upon himself to check out the stadium before committing to buy that season’s ticket package. This wasn’t a tour. No. He just showed up on the campus at the stadium, on a weekend, to check it out. By himself.

I was home on the couch with my needlepoint and Harry Potter books. This is how I spent my time. No WiFi back in the year 2000 in our old house. I couldn’t go downstairs to check the computer because I wasn’t allowed to climb stairs!

The way the story goes is it took him some time to return that night. Why? Because when he went through the gate on to the stadium track to check out the section of the stadium assigned to our seats, a maintenance person then closed and LOCKED that gate for the evening. Unbeknownst that they had a trespasser on the field.

I think James saw the maintenance person drive away in their little golf cart and then something in his mind clicked that maybe they were locking up for the night. Sure enough, he went to check the gate and it was indeed locked. So was every other gate.

Did he even have a cell phone on him? Who knows? Back then it was the giant Motorola flip phone that we only used for ‘emergencies’. Not a lot of texting, calling, or Instagramming in those analog days.

I’m not sure what MacGyver tactics he needed to employ to escape that afternoon. I believe it included scaling an 8 foot wire fence to his freedom. Not quite the Berlin Wall with all the barbed wire, or Shawshank Redemption where he needed to dig a tunnel, but nerve rattling just the same.

When he got home he was cool as a cucumber like nothing had happened.

Me, “How was your errand honey?”

Him, “Oh good. Checked out our seats for the Seahawks tickets at the Husky stadium.”

Me, “Oh that’s nice. Did you remember my ice cream?”

Him, “No, I forgot since I was avoiding getting arrested for trespassing on a college campus. Sorry.”

When he told me the story I imagined all the possibilities that could have gone wrong with that situation. And how he would’ve rotted in his prison cell after they arrested him for trespassing. It’s not that I would choose to not pick him up from prison, it’s just that I wasn’t allowed to drive in my condition. And who forgets a pregnant woman’s ice cream?

This would have made a great chapter in a book called, “I Just Want To Be Alone”. Yes. You read that right. First there was, “I Just Want To Pee Alone.” And now there’s the SEQUEL!!

This time, it’s all about the men in our lives. All kinds of hilarious tales of men, sons, dads; you name it, that have frustrated us or made us laugh. Or both!

If you laughed out loud and peed your pants with the Pee Alone book, I think you’re in for a treat with this one. I have the privilege of being in both of these books, as do some of your favorites like Baby Sideburns, Underachievers Guide to Being Domestic Goddess,  Bad Parenting Moments, Ninja Mom, People I Want to Punch in the Throat, and lots more!

Plus some new folks you might know of that weren’t in the first one. So fun!

Pre-order today! Why pre-order? Because it just makes us look that much more fabulous. On our second week of the Pee Alone book release, we bumped Tina Fey from the top of the iTunes book charts. We like it when those things happen. It makes us feel cool in the pick up line at school.

So tell your friends. Tell your husbands. Ha! You never know, he might get a kick out of it. And order order order!!

And I know you’re just dying to read what I wrote about James. You’ll have to order the book to find out!

I Just Want To Be Alone available on Amazon


Frugie matches Ashley Wagner’s amazing faces

Well, at least I try to.

My fabulous friend Jen at People I Want To Punch In the Throat  pointed out to me that the US Olympic women’s figure skater, Ashley Wagner has been highlighted for her lively expressions in candid photos. Someone else Jen knows is also very expressive in photos. Hint- that person is me.

The original article can be seen here- 38 Amazing Faces of Ashley Wagner- presented by Puffs

I felt I could really relate to this girl. She doesn’t hide behind any fake smile or glassy expression masking her true feelings. She puts it out there. I love a girl who can do that. So regardless if she wins gold or not, I have decided that she’s my favorite. And to honor the Olympics in my own way- I have come up with a montage of how similar I am to Ashley Wagner. Not as an Olympian. No. Of course not. But as a regular person, doing regular things with a little flair. A little oomph. Maybe with a little leotard and lycra too.

Also, being side by side in photos of a world class athlete 20 years younger and 20 points less on the BMI charts is a little daunting. Go easy on me please.

So here you go:


Ashley giving a heart felt performance at the US Nationals last month. Here, I’m just being overly dramatic vacuuming.


Ashley not happy with her 4th place finish at Nationals. Myself, just crying at Downton Abbey again.


Ashley just being cute after her scores in the World Championships. Me, oh that’s when I said, ‘oops, I guess you’ve got carpool tonight’, to my husband.



Here, Ashley is cheering on teammates at Sochi. I’m just dreaming of a self-folding dryer of the future.


Probably the most popular of all the Ashley faces. She wasn’t so happy with her scores for her short program in Sochi. I on the other hand have been told that the cat threw up on the dining room table. Again.


Ashley emotional from her heartfelt performance. That’s me, just crying into the laundry basket.

Obviously Ashley is very pleased with a performance. I’m just pleased that I got the Nespresso going.

A new year, a new you! More like, a same, slightly older and fatter you

Ugh. Stop it. It’s only January 7th and I’m already tired of all the frikkin’ diet articles and headlines on magazines.

Sure it’s US Weekly and In Touch or whatever, not Popular Mechanics or Golf Digest, but still, ENOUGH!

I admit, I like a juicy rag mag like the rest of us. What else would I read while sitting in the orthodontist’s office waiting for Emma to get her headgear adjusted?

It’s all WEIGHT WEIGHT WEIGHT.  And we’re buying this shit folks!

Or at least my orthodontist is.

We are so weight and image obsessed in this country that it’s forced me to write this post.

I could just go on my merry way eating donuts and making makeup tutorials, but NOOO, they have forced my hand. It must stop.

We need to just embrace who we are. We don’t need to be size 0 and having paparazzi snap our pics while vacationing in Cabo. That’s fantasy land.

So yeah, back to the New Year. Everyone wants to lose weight for the New Year. Me? Not so much. Nah. I’m good. I’ll lose some weight for St. Patrick’s day. Yeah. That sounds about right. This way, I’m almost on my way for getting ‘bikini ready’ for summer. Excuse me while I roll my eyes at the phrase ‘bikini ready’.

Basically people, this is the truth we are facing. The New Year hasn’t brought us a new you/ us. It’s just still – us. Totally the same. In fact, a few days older.  Nothing magic happened when the ball dropped from New Years Eve 2013 to New Years Day 2014.

Sorry. Hate to break it to you.

And sure, we’re feeling a little guilty about all that fruit cake and crockenbush we ate. No, that’s not a euphemism for something on HBO, that’s a Martha Stewart delicacy. What? You didn’t make a giant crockenbush for your family holiday gathering? What’s wrong with you?

So maybe I partook in too many donuts and rounds of cookie butter toast and coconut milk lattes with my new Nespresso machine I bought myself as a Black Friday gift to, well, myself. No one else is out there getting me Black Friday gifts! Somebody had to!

But right now, most of the country is deep in witch’s tit freezing cold temps. I mean, we’ve got #Chiberia going on people. When it’s 10 below zero and they are cancelling school because it’s that cold, you are going to be glad you had that extra spritz cookie. Maybe the fudge your best friend brings you every year seemed lonely in that cookie tin all by itself. Think of it as insulation now. You’re welcome.

You don’t need to drop those few extra pounds just yet. Give it awhile. How do we know if Snowmageddon ’14 isn’t finished yet? What if #Chiberia spreads into Chantarctica 2014? Be prepared.

So with that I leave you with my good wishes for 2014. Be healthy? Of course. Exercise? Definitely! Worry about bikinis? NO!

And gosh darn it, have another cookie. You’re looking cold.

 Frugie New Year slightly older you

The pinky pin comes out- video!

Remember when I broke my pinky? You can read about it here. The skinny was; I broke my pinky, had surgery, and they put a pin in it.

Yesterday was the day when they took out the pin. They just yanked it out basically.

I knew this would be entertaining, so I had Emma join me and video tape the whole thing.

The video is full of all kinds of colorful moments. They even let me take home the pin.


Click on the picture to take you to the video.

Frugie gets her pinky pin out