What Happens at Saks Stays in My Closet


It’s been almost five weeks since I started the bootcamp program to tone up my body. I’m here to report that I’ve put on two pounds, my jeans feel tighter and looser in different parts, and the 6-pack abs are still nowhere to be found.  This is where I’m reminded of an YouTube video on how to fake abs. If I assessed my body’s jiggliness quotient (JQ) as cottage cheese level those five weeks ago, I’d say I’ve successfully upgraded to jello.  Sigh.  So the mochi I ate probably didn’t help my cause any either. Who knows, maybe in 4 more weeks my JQ will be at mochi level.  For now, I’ll keep telling myself that I’m slowly building muscle mass and see what happens at the end of my bootcamp in mid-June.

I’ll admit I do feel stronger, more energized, and that’s enough to keep me vested in the program.  The body image issue, however…well, instead of moping over my own theory of relativity (freefall from aging + inertia also from aging = long sleeves + lower hemlines) (is it any wonder I’m blogging about travel and fashion and not physics?), I exact my revenge on gravity with some retail therapy on the westside. Beverly Hills to be exact. How about we test out the gravitational pull between the boutiques and my checkbook?

I’ve probably driven down Wilshire Blvd a thousand times, and this is how it looks and sounds on a very windy day:



No, I don’t bury my sorrows in hard drinks doled out by seedy bartenders in dark bars (that’s only appropriate for birthdays). I prefer to escape in boxes upon boxes of Manolos and Louboutins showered upon me by my favorite shoe guy at Saks–doesn’t the store look all sunny and innocent on the outside…


when all kinds of sins of gluttony are committed inside?

I won’t confess to my own sins (what happens at Saks stays at Saks…er, in my closet) but how about I take you on a drive instead:


Lest you think it’s all rosy posy in this part of town, even the F word (foreclosure) has been whispered here–look closely at that yellow sign below:


And like any other American town, there are typical schools


and boring storefronts


just blocks down the tony bubble of my sweet escape.


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