Love Me, Big Mamma! [Ask Dr. Miro: What You Didn’t Learn In Health Class]...

Dear Dr. Miro, My wife is an overweight BBW (big beautiful woman). I’m talking at least 200lbs extra. That isn’t my problem – just more to love, right? I still want her in every way but her self-esteem about her body is so low that she refuses to let me touch her. I’m certainly no matchstick and she’s never been a small woman (I’ve ALWAYS loved that about her) but what can I do? I tell her all the time how sexy I think she is, that she’s not too fat for me and try to introduce playful “adult” activities but I keep getting shut down. I’m getting resentful that she won’t allow anything close to erotic to transpire between us PLUS I am tired of being rejected. Sincerely, Tired of Being Shut Out By My Big Mama Dear ToBSOBMBM, It is not possible to force anyone to feel good about his or her self. That is something they must do on their own. It is not a pleasant situation to be with someone who thinks poorly of herself. Speak with her about your desire for all HER voluptuousness! Leave the “you’re not so fat” part out. If your wife is a plentiful woman, then she is. No reason to pretend otherwise. Verbally re-enforce your attraction to her Rubenesque loveliness while letting her know how torn up you are that she cannot see her own beauty. Perhaps the two of you could go on an exercise/diet program together not necessarily to get “thin” rather to simply start feeling good. Show her how dedicated you are through your ACTIONS, since words are simply not working. You will be heightening the endorphins folks need to feel good about themselves AND you will be doing it together....

On Wine Tasting: Sex, Solvang and When Good Wine Tastes Bad [Elbows on the Table]...

Vacations in my adult life have been merely a guise for my love affair with food. Last week I celebrated my 20-something birthday by going to the San Ynez Valley. The valley, made famous by the movie Sideways, grows some of the best burgundy style grapes in the country (your Pinot Noirs, Chardonnays and Grenaches). Santa Barbara’s wine region is about two hours north of Los Angeles tucked inside a dry, mountainous region about 12 miles from the coast. For anyone who has always wanted to dip their toe in the ocean of wine knowledge, this is the best place to start. As far as I am concerned, there is NOTHING sexier than wine. It is all about passion and intoxication and sensuality. I cannot think of another activity in the world that can get a person laid quicker than a bottle of good wine paired with a succulent meal. It is also the quickest way to make friends and the most painless way to get your family off your back. Pair enough good food with enough good drink, everyone is happy and full of adoration. You can, without a doubt, hyperbolize one’s food appetite to one’s sexual appetite (although anyone who has been on a date can attest that the two are not mutually exclusive). When compared, my love of food is the kind of sex where you rent a hotel room and come out with a $2,000 cleaning bill due to broken lamps, torn curtains and turned over furniture which must be followed by a time of celibacy because you are positive at least five sins were committed on top of the act. It is intense. The real beauty of California is that besides the major cities, the state is basically countryside....

Too Nice To F**K! [Ask Dr. Miro: What You Didn’t Learn In Health Class]...

Dear Dr. Miro, I keep getting told by women I want to date, that I’m “too nice”. What’s that even mean? Shouldn’t I be good to women? Am I supposed to get all Douche-y on them? It seems that a**holes always end up with the girls I like but it just doesn’t seem right to me. What should I do? Sincerely, Nice Guy Who Can’t Get Laid Dear NGWCGL, I will venture a guess that the women you are interested in are not turned off by you being nice to them as much as they may want someone with a particular kind of swagger you do not possess. Maybe it is not a matter of being “too nice”, as in considerate, but rather you come across as a bit wimpy. Then again, do you really want to be with a lady who does not want to be treated well? There is a misnomer in our society that you must either be a Nice Fella Pushover or a Jersey Shore Jerk Dude. Being polite and aware of others is great! However, there is often a disconnect between being kind and being a man. Do you not stand up for yourself or ask for your needs to be met? There is a happy medium to be discovered within these extremes. Let me level with you. Telling a person “you are too nice” as a way to stay in the “Friend Zone” is a supposedly polite way of saying, “I am not turned on by you. You do not get my juices flowing.” That is NOT to say you will never meet anyone who will get excited by you. It is to say, that the women you are attempting to have relations with are simply not in...

Love Affair with a New Purse [Secret Life of an Expat]

Before I got to Paris, I was never much of a purse person. I liked something with good pockets and a nice shape, and the most I remember spending on a purse was $50 for a marked down Nine West at Macy’s. In Paris, I made a friend who had a beautiful purse collection, and I got bored with the Nine West. Mandarina Duck was the only cool company I knew of, so I bought my first semi expensive (i.e. more than 100 euros) purse from them. It was functional with good pockets and enough leather to look a little bit fancy. It made me feel like a grown up. We were happy together. But then… I don’t know. The little swath of suede became polished and small rips appeared in the fabric. The purse was letting itself go, and my eye started to wander. Gerard Darel, I thought. It’s what all the ‘it’ girls have, and I’m an it girl, right? Well, no, but once I got the Gerard Darel 24 hour bag under my skin, it wouldn’t let go. I could be working through a perfectly normal Tuesday afternoon and then find myself staring at the Gerard Darel website without knowing how I got there. I would spend hours examining the colors and prices, even though they never changed. This went on for months, but the bag cost twice the amount of Mandarina Duck. Not expensive for a designer leather purse, but not cheap either. We finally met and had coffee, me and the Gerard Darel 24 hour bag, but it turned out we didn’t click. The blue looked better online and the bag didn’t close at the top. I would have been settling. To console me, my friend introduced me to...

Ad it Up! The Smartest and Dumbest Ads of the Game [Tall Drink of Nerd]...

Ernessa asked “Are you going to do a column on the Super Bowl commercials again?” I had a good time doing the reviews last year, so the only possible reply was “Hell, yeah! I get to watch TV and be judgmental?! Sign me up!” So here are my Ultimate Pronouncements on the Best and Worst ads of the game. (I totally didn’t see the pre-game. Let me know what I missed.) Everyone has been talking about the Ferris Bueller Honda CRV ad for the past two weeks, so I’m starting off our Super Bowl recap with my thoughts on that. (Please feel free to add your thoughts on any commercials, game action, Faith Hill’s sparkly pants, etc., in the comments below). I thought the CRV ad was clever but sad. Clever as an homage to a classic movie. Loved that Chinatown parade. Sad because only Matthew Broderick was a player in this show. Where were Cameron and Principal Rooney (is he still in prison?) and girlfriend Mia Sara (Sloane) and Jennifer Grey? If this commercial had been sprinkled with the original cast, it would have been a classic. It wasn’t. Now can we please talk about something else? The Good Ads – You Get My Vote/Money Vrooom: Maybe I’m a little biased, because I am a proud Hyundai owner (2012 Cherry Tucson y’all!), but I thought The Dude and the creative team working for Hyundai brought their top game to Super Bowl 46 (that’s right…no Roman numerals for me. Keepin’ it simple.) The employees singing the Rocky theme was awesome and inspiring. My fav part was the bumpy road-test singer: The surprise for the Cheetah trainer in their Veloster commercial made me happy. I always root for the animals! If I weren’t a happy...