Blogger Was Out Of Commission On Saturday, Therefore We Missed...

National Orgasm Day!!!

I celebrated the day. 3-4 times. And, behold, I called it good.

In the name of Pamela Anderson, Amen.

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Related Posts
Happygasm Day
Happy Orgasm Day

Happy Easter Internetland!

Sugar Blues

I have been addicted to sugar my whole life.

Because sugar is absolute crap for the body, it wasn't often allowed in my mother's house so I developed an early, violent, craving for the stuff. It became another in a long line of forbidden fruits dangled in front of me that I was to avoid at all costs. Except - unlike coffee, alcohol, tobacco, masturbation, Diet Coke, R-rated movies, Judy Blume novels and all other naughty pleasures - it wasn't forbidden by God, just my mother. She was much easier to disobey. So, I would save my allowance and sneak up the street to 7-11, buy as many candy bars as I could afford and sit on the curb - cramming them into my mouth in a near orgasmic frenzy. Whenever I was at a friends house whose mother's purchased cookies, candy, or - God bless them - Hostess delights, it was over for me. I ate until I could eat no more. I didn't have the "Sugar Limit" most of my friends had. I never got sugared out. I filled to overflowing and immediately began planning how to get my hands on more. I was skinny as a rail so it never affected my weight. I never thought about it being a problem. Not once.

As an adult, when I was on my own, I still scarfed sugary goodies with the same desperation of a thousand starving orphans. Simply because I could. I totally understand why sugar is the Mormon drug of choice. It's all that is allowed. I ate it because no one could tell me not to. I had learned to be obedient not disciplined.

Once my testimony bit the dust and I made different behavioral choices for myself, that didn't change. Fortunately I had been through enough therapy and was already committed to my personal well being so I didn't try drugs, start smoking (as much as I wanted to) and my alcohol consumption stayed well under control. But I never learned to say NO to sugar.

I still had no limit to the amounts I could eat but as I got older I noticed that I had sugar hangovers worse than anything brought on by the best night of Tequila shooting. Ice cream was the worst. Took me days to recover.

I remembered family friends reading the book "Sugar Blues" when I was a child and I have always known that it was not good for me. But I didn't care. I was totally in denial as to how much it was affecting me. I remembered the sugar fasts I went on in high school and how amazing it felt not to have it coursing through my veins. For several months before I got married I cut out sugar, dairy, soda and red meat and felt remarkable. I've tried several times, post babies, to replicate those fasts. Totally unable to. I tried to limit. Didn't work. Tried to only have it on the weekends. Worked occasionally but not enough to make any kind of a difference.

But then [cue: Hallelujah Chorus] the stars aligned the beginning of this October and I just stopped eating the stuff. A combination of finally being ready to let it go, a desire to feel and look better than I have, being reminded by a good friend how amazing it felt to cook and eat healthily, dread at the oncoming winter and it's accompanying depression, a role in an independent film that required I get in getter shape than I was and being introduced to the Miracle Love Coffee... It was as easy as my mother's sugarless apple pie. I stopped eating sugar, dairy, gluten, limited red meat intake and only drank occasional red wine without giving any of it a second thought.

First thing I noticed was the increase in energy. My strength doubled instantly and I was able to run faster and longer and lift far more weight at the gym than I had before. Within a few weeks I had lost a solid 10 pounds - even with all the muscle weight I was gaining. My thinking cleared exponentially. Anxiety vanished. All the stress I am under from juggling a million projects was totally handle-able. I started dreaming again. I was happy, like, 98% of the time. Winter came and I was fine. I looked at the snow and it was pretty. Pulling off Christmas alone while working full time usually trips me up. Nope. Sailed through it - loving nearly every moment. I felt better, healthier, happier, more grateful, more energetic and ridiculously more capable and productive than I have in as long as I can remember. I became a vastly different person. Just ask my kids.

Then came Christmas. Certainly having all the delicious goodies that filled my kitchen for one day couldn't hurt anything...

OH MY GOD.

I knew I would feel something. I had factored in a day to recover - grateful that the day after Christmas was Sunday. I took it easy, read and watched Christmas movies. That night I felt it. Just kind of... off. The next morning I felt like I had been hit by a truck. I had a headache, swollen eyes and could hardly move for the aching in my joints. My hips felt like those of an 87 year old. I couldn't remember certain words. I was sad. Not depressed (yet) but just kind of gloomy. I felt anxious and annoyed. As the day wore on it got worse. I hated my life and the pain I was in. Didn't want anyone to call or come over. Looked outside at that goddamn winter and cursed living in Utah. My creativity, sex drive, joy for living... blurred. Drugged. Gone.

I stepped outside myself and knew exactly what it was. Didn't panic. Just reminded myself that it was sugar screwing with my brain chemistry as it has for years. I have been drinking a lot of water, miracle coffee, lemon/cayenne drink and eating brown rice, Quinoa, lentils and lots of fruits and veggies. 4 days later I can still feel it. I went for a long run on Monday - pushing through the aching still in my hips. I feel happiness again but still slow in my brain. Still confused and swollen for quite a while after I wake up. Anxiety is easing. Ability to happily cope returning.

HOW DID I EVER LIVE LIKE THAT???

All I can say is I am done. Sugar is poison for my body and brain. I have no more desire to do sugar than I have to do cocaine. At the moment they feel one and the same. [Note: I have never actually done cocaine - but have always been deathly afraid of it and what it would do to me. For good reason.]

Anyway, purging is almost done. My search for all recipes yummy, healthy and sugar free has commenced.

Grateful for the lesson.

May I never have to learn it again.

Fa La La La La - La La La La!

Merry Christmas Internetland!!!

Now, go out and don your gay apparel...

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Related Links
(Still) The Best Christmas Letter I Have Received
Holiday Of Happy
It's That Time Again
Emily Vision

NYC Couple Receives Hundreds Of Letters To Santa

Aww... check out this Cute Lil Christmas Story...

On Second Thought...

A Steaming followed by a good old fashioned Christmas Vajazzling...

I am SO there!!!

This Is Soooo What I Am Asking Santa For

Ladies, tell your guy to stop his search for the perfect gift. Here it is - the treat that every woman dreams of. A Vaginal Steam Bath!!!

Totally serious thing. I love that there's an "identical treatment for men." Wa-hoo! You and your man can have your carpets cleaned together. Fer cute! But, I'm thinking that I don't really want anything with wormwood or mugwort tea anywhere my coochie. It sounds like I'd get an infection that only a magical romp in the swamp with Harry Potter would cure.

No thanks.

Singing by Bra Cup Size

Happy Holidays from La Senza's Cup Size Choir!


LA SENZA CUP SIZE CHOIR VIDEO



All of the La Senza bras shown are either balconette, demi cup or push up bras, created to increase the bustline.


Keep in mind that if you have a small bust or have shallow or medium breast tissue, then your breasts will look different in these bra cup sizes.


Happy Holidays, my dear, Lingeristas!

Three Little Words

The other day I was at Cassie's house as she was leaving for work. She was walking out the door and called to me, "Bye Em, love you!" Without skipping a beat I called right back, "Bye, Honey. I love you, too!"

And then I stopped and just stood there, feeling how amazing that felt. Three little words. I Love You. Amazing to hear. Amazing to say. Like warm honey. Or Sunshine. Or Magic.

I was born with those words just kind of naturally dripping out of my mouth. My entire life, it seems, I have felt love so deeply it hurts. And if I love, I express it. Always have, always will. If I love someone, it just makes no freaking sense to keep it a secret. If someone is incredible and lovable why the hell would I NOT tell them?

I'm not talking about love of the romantic variety. Telling someone you love them THAT way must done in the right time and in the right way. I'm not talking about the I-don't-want-to-live-without-you-I-think-about-you-all-the-time-please-jump-my-bones-and-have-babies-with-me kind of love. I'm talking about the I-see-who-you-are-you-are-incredible-and-lovable-and-make-the-world-a-better-place-to-be kind of love.

I look around me and I see a world that is just so screwed up when it comes to love. We are so afraid of it. We misuse it. We use it as a weapon to hurt or manipulate. We withhold it - carefully measuring out only just enough. We only give it if we are certain to have it returned - or only give the exact amount we expect we will be given.

It stuns me how many friends I have that I love dearly, and I know they love me, but when I say, "I love you," they stutter and stammer and get flushed and skip right over it and change the subject. It makes me sad. Not because they don't say it back, I know they love me. I don't say it to manipulate them into saying it. I don't say it because I want me to hear it, I say it because I want them to hear it. I want them to know it. They deserve to know they are amazing and incredible and thoroughly lovable. We all do.

Here is my Thanksgiving challenge to you. If you are a person who has a hard time saying "I love you," SAY IT. This week is a week for being grateful. We all have people in our lives that we are grateful for. TELL THEM. If you are a person who has a hard time hearing "I Love You," GET THE HELL OVER IT. Seriously. Hear it, take it in and say it back. Don't question it, ignore it, gloss over it or dismiss it. Give it generously and receive it gratefully.

Love is delicious. Love is life giving. Love is not to be hoarded or stored up for some distant future. There is an endless supply with more than enough to go around. Love is everywhere - in ridiculous amounts. Love is to be felt and bathed in and celebrated. Pour it on, soak it up, drink it down, roll in it, sing it, breathe it, dream it, live it. It will change everything. I promise.

Happy Thanksgiving Internetland.

I Love You.

Happy Halloween Internetland!

Hooked On The Hoff

Happy Birthday to Sir Hasselhoff.

In honor of his majesty - go out, get fall down drooling drunk, try to eat a Whopper on YouTube then pee clean through a hotel mattress.

But, after that, be kind. He is my one true love.

Have At It Internetland

Can't believe this Glorious Day is here already. Just bummed it only cums once a year. Oh well... Enjoy!

In the name of Pamela Anderson, Amen.

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Related Posts
Happygasm Day
Happy Orgasm Day

A Mother's Day Pimp Out

Mother's Day IM Conversation Between My & My Mom...

Em Says:
Happy Mother's Day, Mom!

CLP says:
And Happy Mother's Day to you too, Emily! You're one of the greatest mothers I know! I've been reading Erma Bombeck. Here's a cute thing for mothers: "Whenever I pulled out one sock from the dryer for every two that I put in, I tell my children, the other one went to live with Jesus."

Em says:
I wanna go live with Jesus too. Jesus the sock fairy. The thought of Jesus being the fairy that steals socks makes me giggle.

CLP says:
Not yet, you don't get to go live with Jesus or the sock fairy. Too many people need you here, including your kids and me and EVERYONE who is reading this!

Em says:
Oh, I don't mean leave my body live with Jesus - I just mean in a giant sock filled chocolate house somewhere. Weirdest vacation EVER.

CLP says:
Well, actually, the thought about the socks was that the sock died and went to heaven, I think.

Em says:
I get it - but Jesus stealing socks makes me laugh. I just always choose the funnier interpretation of any topic - this you know about me

CLP says:
Of course. That's one of the things we love most about you. From a very long list

Em says:
So - here we are. Both mothers.

CLP says:
I guess motherhood is contagious. You got it from me--sort of. At least you wouldn't have got it if I hadn't done it first! Glad I did it.

Em says:
I did catch it from you! That's hilarious. How horrible if it were THAT easy to get pregnant? You get sneezed on by a pregnant woman... Surprise!

CLP says:
Well, sex is lots more fun than sneezing. Nature had to make it fun or we'd NEVER JUST DECIDE TO HAVE KIDS. Well, yes, we would, but not as often.

Em says:
Ha-ha, remember in that book, "Where did I come From?” they say an orgasm feels like a sneeze - only nicer.

CLP says:
Like a sneeze. PLEEEZE! Oh, yes, I'm a poet. You, as you know, were invited here daily (nightly) for a whole month. Ewww, that's more than your readers wanted to know.

Em says:
Ewww, that’s more than I wanted to know!!!

CLP says:
Before we leave chocolate, did you know that I make sure I have five large dark chocolate "Pound Plus" bars from Trader Joe's in the kitchen at all times???? Don't tell your brother John this, but I hide them in the lower broken oven and he doesn't ever look there.

Em says:
That is awesome! Awww, Mom... look at you loving chocolate now. When did that happen? I wasn't even allowed to have candy when I was little. Which is one reason I devour it like a cheap whore now.

CLP says:
Yes, five large dark chocolate bars. We Mormons believe in food storage, doncha know.

Em says:
Mom - honestly - don't you miss sneezing?

CLP says:
Well, it's hay fever time here in Northern California, so I've been doing a little sneezing. Oh, you mean do I miss sex??? Well, the truth is I never got my share, and it's a real pity for myself and at least one other person.

Em says:
I keep threatening to find you a man. Haven't had the best luck in that dept for myself - maybe I can do better for you... How about we take this opportunity to pimp you out on this here blog? Please, oh please, oh please???

CLP says:
Go for it, Em. No, didn't get my share. That's why I now have five large bars of Trader Joe's dark chocolate "Pound Plus" hiding in my broken oven.

Em says:
Okay - Internetland - time to get Carol Lynn Pearson... sneezing. Okay, you are a beautiful, very youthful, 70. What age range are we talking? How young would you go? 60?

CLP says:
Oh, 60-75. I'm very healthy and could pass for 69. Joke. I could pass for 59.

Em says:
Okay, between 60 - 75.

CLP says:
So here are his requirements: Loves me...loves chocolate...loves Jesus...loves socks…

Em says:
NOT GAY - rule #1. Duh.

CLP says:
Absolutely. No wiggle room there.

Em says:
Does he have to be Mormon? (Please say no, please say no...)

CLP says:
No.

Em says:
Ding, ding, ding! Correct answer. Okay - can he be a m.... height challenged?

CLP says:
I would love to be able to speak Hebrew with a nice Jewish man. Haven't used my Israel kibbutz Hebrew since I used to speak it with Hugh Nibley decades ago.

Em says:
Ooooo a nice Jewish man. Now we're talking.

CLP says:
Height challenged? ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT THE M WORD?????

Em says:
Yep. :-) (Again - the correct answer is NO)

CLP says:
You would like a nice M for your step-father?????

Em says:
Could you IMAGINE??? Bah-hahahahahaha!!!

CLP says:
He would have to have his own money. But we could go dutch to movies.

Em says:
So, he doesn't have to be rich - just able to buy his own movie ticket?

CLP says:
And he would have to know who Leo Tolstoy is because this morning I finished listening to the last of 28 CDs of Anna Karenina.

Em says:
Okay - I am putting wealthy out there. From the daughter. You did? WOW.

CLP says:
Yes, I'm trying to fill in some of the gaps in my literary education. It's amazing how many hours in the day you (I) can have someone read to me while I just do stuff.

Em says:
Mom - it would be cool if he knew Tolstoy but, first, he needs to know Kinsey. You need a good Sneezy. And I ain’t talking about the dwarf (as previously stated)

CLP says:
Emily, way before Kinsey people were having lots of good sneezing.

Em says:
They were? I thought he invented sex. No? Okay, you need a sexy, 68 year old Jewish man with a pocket full of movie tickets and the ability to read aloud for hours.

CLP says:
Wow! That's it!!!!! I'm sure you can find one somewhere in Zion.

Em says:
Not here - but someone out there reading this in Internetland must have a father, uncle, friend that would fit the bill. Come on guys - work some magic for me here!

CLP says:
As the Jews say--From Your Lips to God's Ear!

Em says:
Amen (to be pronounced Oh-main!)

CLP says:
And amen.

Em says:
I love it - I am totally your pimpin’ Yente! On that note - I love you, Mom. Thank you for being mine.

CLP says:
My pleasure, Em. Love you SO much! Have a great Mother's Day!

Em says:
You too. Bye. :-)

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY INTERNETLAND!
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Related Posts:
Mother's Day Love Fest

PEEP Show

Happy Easter Internetland! Enjoy...

I Still Have Grass Stains On My Arse

Got another email. Apparently it's Naked Day again. Call me un-American, call me a party pooper, call me whatever the hell you want...

I AM NOT FALLING FOR THAT ONE AGAIN!!!

Even Smart Asses Get The Blues

I was asked if my sparse posting as of late is because I am bored with this blog or if readership is down. Umm… neither. February Funk hit early this year.

A delightful combination of stress, holiday madness, more book rejections, some very shitty personal news, the appearance of snow and the disappearance of blue sky, magically laced together with poisonous amounts of any and all things sugary that I deliriously consumed like a cheap crack whore - and I was back napping with my head in the oven along side the dozens of tiny gingerbread men that I bake every year.

Not bored, just taking a not at all enjoyable time out. Utah, and I assume all snow bound states, seems to be made up of two types of people. Those that scamper to and fro trilling about winter being some miraculous adventure cake covered in creamy white newness, and those of us that want to kill those people. We are fine through the holidays, January is a challenge, but by February and March we are hanging on by our fingernails – if that. This year it seems to have hit a lot of us early. Many people I know crashed and burned after the holidays this year, as if the New Year brought some Egyptian plague that oozed house to house robbing us of our will to decoupage.

Therefore, many of us took our sad little selves to the doctor for Happy Pills and are slowly returning to the land of the living.

I love you, California, with your Golden Gate ajar.
I love your purple sunsets, love your skies of azure blue.
I love you, Catalina - you are very dear to me.
I love you, Tamalpais, and I love Yosemite.
I love you, Land of Sunshine - half your beauties are untold.
I loved you in my childhood, and I'll love you when I'm old.

[Insert heavy sigh.]

Holiday of Happy

Tis the night before New Year's
I'm beginning to fidget
Not a creature is stirring
Not even a m...ouse.

Actually, all the creatures are stirring and getting out their pots and pans and chilling bottles of sparkly beverages. I'm completely holiday partied out - just laying low with my loin fruit and man-I-am-dating-but-not-going-to-write-about.

Forgive the 10 days of silence. I have been hiding out on the island of misfit toys nursing my holiday overwhelmed, burned out, in a serious sugar coma self. This Christmas was probably the best, but most exhausting, I've had in years. And this was the year that my smart assed, cynical despite all that I believe, self got a shot in the arm of the miraculous and determined that, yes Virginia, there is a Santa Clause after all.

A few days before Christmas, the kids and I had just gotten home after a loooong day of shopping when the doorbell rang. On our porch stood two children I had never seen before holding a ginormous basket filled with Christmas Love. They said the basket was for me. I didn't believe them.

"Sweeties, I think you have the wrong house."

"No," (giggling) "This is for you."

"Um, who are you?"

(Pointing behind them) "We live over there."

"And this is from you?" (Looking around the parking lot) "Where are your parents?"

"We're just supposed to give this to you."

"But I don't even know you. Is this from your parents?"

(More giggling) "We're just giving this to you."

"Thank you so much, but I think you need to ask your parents if this is the right house."

They just stared at me.

"Are you sure you have the right house?"

"Uh-huh."

I was still not convinced but didn't know what else to do. I thanked them and my kids grabbed the basket. I instructed them NOT to open anything because in about 5 minutes there was going to be a knock on the door and some poor, embarrassed strangers were going to apologetically ask for it back.

They pulled out an envelope with my name on it. Now I was thoroughly confused. "Wait, it really is for us?" Kids ripped open the card and out fell an American Express gift card for not a small amount of money. My mind started racing and finally took in the contents of the basket. Rolls, a ham, cookies, bags of amazing candy and nuts, chocolate up the wazoo... Who would / could do this? Was it the local ward who had chosen the naughty, single ex-Mormon mom to Secret Santa in an attempt to get her back to church? My eyes fell on a bottle of champagne. Nope. Not the Mormons.

There was another card. I opened it and out fell cash and another handful of Am Ex gift cards in equally not small amounts. The card read, simply, "You are loved by MANY."

How do I even begin to express how that felt? I can't. How can I thank those that blessed me anonymously? Again, I can't. I have my strong suspicions but won't leave my seat at the magic show to rush backstage, shake the crew by the shoulders and demand to know how the trick was done. It doesn't matter. It was done. And it was magical. And it made me deeply happy.

Talk about catching the Emily Vision.

God bless them. Every one.

Merry Christmas, Lingeristas!

Merry Christmas to all of our dear, Lingeristas!

The following are some Christmas quotes that feel timeless and classic.


"Christmas is the season for kindling the fire of hospitality in the hall, the genial flame of charity in the heart." ~ Washington Irving

"It is Christmas in the heart that puts Christmas in the air." ~ W.T. Ellis

"Even as an adult I find it difficult to sleep on Christmas Eve. Yuletide excitement is a potent caffeine, no matter your age." ~ Carrie Latet
"Blessed is the season which engages the whole world in a conspiracy of love!" ~ Hamilton Wright Mabie

"Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen." ~ Author unknown, attributed to a 7-year-old named Bobby
Images on this post are of Monica, our delightful Eve's Apples lingerie model, who will be gracing our website launching on New Year's Day, January 1, 2010!

Monica showed up to the shoot, wearing an ill-fitting bra and thinking that she was a 36A. After getting her fitted, she was thrilled to see that she's a 32B and looks gorgeous in everything we put her in during the shoot! It wasn't long before she was "Celebrating Her Inner Eve." She looks so spectacular in this red Lucia Plunge Bra (top image) and matching lace boyshorts that I had to send her home in it!

Last year, we had a contest for one lucky winner of this red Lucia bra and panty set by The Little Bra Company. It was the biggest contest turn out still to date! If you like this lingerie set, you can find it on New Year's Day on our new online lingerie boutique dedicated to smaller busted women (bra sizes 28AA - 36B and 32C).

Monica (in the second image) is wearing a white Retro India Bralette by Eberjey. Both panty sets can be found on our lingerie website (http://www.evesappleslingerie.com/) on January 1, 2010.

Have a wonderful holiday, my dear Lingeristas!

Re-Post: (Still) The Best Christmas Letter I Have Ever Received

It has been a couple of years since I shared this. And there are many new readers to this blog that totally deserve to giggle. I still haven't gotten a Xmas letter that even comes close to this in awesomeness and I still wish with all my heart and soul that I had written it. Enjoy...

SEASON'S GREETINGS!!!

It's been another wonderful year for the Jones Family! Mike continues to study hard and is getting a lot of recognition including, this last month, publishing a chapter in a book and being invited for interviews at Yale and University of Maryland. He somehow still has time to exercise and stay in great shape and to be a wonderful dad, taking the kids swimming every week. Last weekend he watched the kids for two days so I could go Christmas Shopping with my best friend.

Hannah loves school and ballet and excels in both! She comes home and teaches Paige everything, so Paige is becoming a great reader and an amazing mathematician! They are inseparable and we constantly get comments about what a pair they are. They also take good care of their brother. Cody is a good natured little boy who lights up the room every time he walks in with his huge beaming smile.

I am excited to be expecting number FOUR! People have a hard time believing I am pregnant and are shocked to learn it is number four. They are always saying that I look more like a pregnant teenager than a mother of four. I don't know if that's a compliment or not!!! The kids keep me busy, but I keep myself sane with audio books. I am always listening to something and finish about two books a month. It has been so educational and enjoyable to read wonderful books like Moby Dick, The Portrait of a Lady, and The Brothers Karamazov.

We hope this letter makes you all feel as jealous and insecure as it makes us feel smug. OK, WHO AM I KIDDING? Here's the truth...

Mike is leading us into our eighth consecutive year of abject poverty. At this point, he is just jumping through whatever hoops his liberal professors want him to so we can get on with it. We are waiting to get rejected by the two schools who actually condescended to "interview" him for indentured servitude, I mean internship.

As for our kids, whom the government has officially labeled "at risk," Hannah comes home from school a moody witch every day. She has Paige in tears within two minutes most days. She is always tired and I have to rip her out of bed every morning and force her to school. Paige cut her hair last night. It looks horrifying. That is after cutting her clothes and Hannah's stocking the previous weeks. She has been spanked so many times her bum is leather. We will have to try some psychotropic drugs. Cody... Who's Cody? Oh yeah--that creature who's always armpit-deep in the toilet. Well, all I can say about him is he's lucky we never vacuum or he'd starve to death.

I had to drag my sorry rear into the Medicaid office and tell them I am pregnant again. Four kids in grad school--my worst nightmare. I am a burden to my family. I have barfed over two hundred times since October and now I am just waiting for a blood clot to form in my varicose veins and travel to my heart and kill me. I don't like to move, so I just yell at my kids from my worn spot on the couch. No wonder Mike never comes home.

Better luck next year.
The Jones Family

Lingerie & Tutus

Tutus, worn as a fashionably flirty skirt for some and a classic uniform for serious ballerinas, always reminds me of lingerie. One of my all time favorite panties was the pink, ruffly tutu panty by Jezebel a couple years ago, embracing all the feminine delight and details that make a tutu fun. The Huit lingerie 2009 Spring Collection (images on this page) is filled with fun details echoing back to tutus and ballerinas.

In the Tutu Much post, Mme. Piplette of A La Folie recounts a childhood Christmas in which she we left pondering over her naughty and nice qualities when Santa brought presents for all the children accept her and another girl she was sure that she'd see later in group therapy. With an obsession, close to Messy Marvin in A Christmas Story, Mme. Piplette's Red Ryder BB gun was a dainty, mulit-layered, twirl inspiring tutu.

"...I sat alone in my homemade green velvet culotte and vest set, sans cadeau. I was so embarrassed, I wanted to die... what had I done that was so bad? Was it because I snuck into the pantry and ate all the chocolate crayons my mom had bought for my sister's birthday? No, it was probably because I had forgotten to let that butterfly go and it died in my bug jar. It was an accident, I swear! But I was a murderess, and Santa knew it...."

To read about Mme. Piplette's classic holiday experience with Santa and the missing tutu, click on Tutu Much.

Remember, you've never to young or old to pull out a tutu for fun or play.