There are not a lot of things we, as a society, can learn from Rob Lowe. The Montecito resident can’t teach us how to act or build our dream home without infuriating our neighbors, but he sure has one valuable lesson: If you’re famous, for god’s sake don’t tape yourself having sex.
It started out as an innocent evening, with plans to meet a girlfriend for a local book-signing. But when it was over, there were feathers on my chest, lube in my hair, and a new place in my heart for stripper poles.
As a little girl, I lived vicariously through my Barbie. When she wore her Bob Mackie halter gown, I was a disco queen. When she rode the elevator to the top of her three-story town home, I was a lady of leisure. And when she began making out with ripple-chested Malibu Ken on a pile of polyester pantsuits, well, it was time for me to pack Barbie away and focus my attention on the cover boys of Tiger Beat magazine.
I’m going to tell you a secret, but you have to promise it won’t leave this page. Because it’s kind of gross, and sure to damage my standing among the more hygienic members of society: I don’t floss. I just don’t. And I’m tired of apologizing for it.
A recent study shows that women’s style of dress changes throughout our menstrual cycles: We opt for more attractive outfits as we near ovulation, the time of the month when we’re most fertile.