Spottswood's Close-Up

Spottswood recently informed me that he's been feeling left-out. As one of our more sensitive little buddies, I take pains to listen to him and to acknowledge his feelings.

He's had a rough couple of months. First, Daddy had an affair with a kitten named Solo. Fortunately, Solo grew out of his adorable kitten stage and the affair ended. But not before traumatizing poor Spottswood.

Luckily, Ian and Spottswood have patched up their relationship.

Then we got chickens. I don't know if you've noticed, but every blog post for the past month has concerned the baby chicks.

Winnie and Harvey don't really care. Winnie is extremely affable, wriggling with excitement at something as simple as going to the bathroom or walking down the hall.

And Harvey sleeps so much that he's only dimly aware that he even has a mommy and daddy.

But Spottswood feels jealous over the chicks. I've explained to him that babies need lots of extra attention. Plus, there's about a forty percent chance we're going to eat the chicks anyways.

Nevertheless, Spottswood has been feeling some intense sibling rivalry. To make it up to him, I promised Spottswood I would snap some modeling shots of him and display them on the blog.

Spottswood was ecstatic. He watches America's Next Top Model every week and takes note of the fashion photographers' modeling advice. Tyra Banks is kind of his hero.

Here's our fabulous boy smiling with his eyes:

Opening the Winiferd Vault Again: Laura's Modeling Portfolio

This was originally published in 2011 but was removed recently while I interviewed for my new job (for obvious reasons). This post makes me cringe, but it does sorta sum up the first year of Winiferd in the Burbs.

Ian has this peculiar habit of declaring I should have been a model. He sounds sincere when he insists I should be walking the runways instead of doing office grunt work and coaxing the dog to go doo doo.

When we sift through magazines at the grocery store, he'll point to either severely anorexic or severely Photoshopped girls on the cover of Bimbo Weekly or Hollywood Tonight and claim, "This looks like you."

He's not trying to be funny, either. He genuinely thinks I look, well, modelesque. He's adorable in his insistence because he's wearing Laura goggles, and it all springs from a place of love.

Like, remember the 80s, when everyone fell in love with Cabbage Patch dolls? And people paid hundreds of dollars for them? And they looked like Shrek dolls with yarn hair, and they had ridiculous names? ("My Cabbage Patch dolls are Darius Earl and Gertie Darlene! What awesome names!").

But the whole world fell in love with them and thought they were the cutest things ever? EVER? The same dynamic is at work here.

Which is to say, I would be the Cabbage Patch Shrek doll of the modeling world.

Ian: "You missed your calling in life. You should have been a model."

Laura: "I hardly think round faces and oddly proportioned bodies measure up to model standards."

Ian: "No, really. You look like a model."

Laura: "I suppose I could have been a model for the Playtex company. They use plain girls for their ads, because they're trying to appeal to girls who find tampons shocking and sexuality frightening. I could so be the face for them."

Ian: "You have an exotic look because of the red hair. You would stick out among the other models."

Laura: "Plus, if I modeled for Playtex, I bet I'd get free tampons for life. Do you know how much money I'd save? That stuff gets expensive."

Ian: <Slightly defensive> "Well, I think you'd make a great model."

I've decided to stop arguing with Ian and playing the role of, "Woe is me. For I am an ugly, misshapen wench of wretched visage. Thy soul weeps for I suffer from a vengeful society who doth drink the Haterade. Anon!"

I now embrace Ian's emphatic assertion that I am a beautiful, sexy woman, who the world wants, nay, who the world needs to see.

I have put together my modeling portfolio, which I will send to major modeling executives.

These are definitely my best pictures, and as I gaze over them, I know, deep-down, that Ian was right all along. I truly missed my calling in life by choosing graduate school over modeling. I now strive to correct this mistake.

The New Face of Playtex

Esquire's Cabbage Patch Model of the Year 

Pretty hot, right?

I'd like to thank my two patient and cooperative co-models.

Winiferd

Darius Earl 

Special thanks goes to my fashion photographer, Ian

Say good-bye to your dignity, darling. The Playtex Cabbage Patch Shrek Doll post may mark the day Winiferd in the Burbs officially jumped the shark. 

Man, we are so over this shit.

Laura's Seven Beauty Tips

When it comes to fashion, it pays to follow the advice of renowned beauty stylists and hair dressers.

I get haircuts once a year (twice if I'm feeling fancy), never go clothes shopping, and my beauty regime consists of washing my hair every four days (if I'm feeling fancy).

Clearly, a person of my knowledge and graces holds the secrets of beauty. The following are Laura' seven beauty tips:

1. Whenever you feel self-conscious about your appearance, layer on extra eye-liner and mascara.

Don't hold back. Thick and gunky is the key.

If you wake up feeling fat or unattractive, subtle eye makeup won't help the situation. I find the amount of eyeliner and mascara I wear directly corresponds to my self esteem.

So layer it on and strut, for you will look like a happy, healthy woman with high self-esteem.

Your significant others may claim you don't need the extra eye makeup. Don't listen to them. 

For instance, Ian claims I look beautiful without makeup. He says things like, "When you don't wear makeup, your eyes look extra blue."

Folks, Ian is a liar who clearly suffers from vision impairment. 

Don't let your loved ones sway you. Dark, thick eye makeup may not make you look beautiful, but it will make you feel beautiful. And that's what really matters, right?  

2. Let your Mom buy your clothes. 

Preferably at thrift shops or yard sales. 

My Mom, aware that I hate shopping, gleefully prows through yard sales every Saturday, searching for clothes. 

My Mom and I have very different tastes in clothes. For instance, she has the taste of someone thirty years older than me. Surprising, really. Sometimes she finds nice clothes. Sometimes she finds, ahem, interesting clothes. 

I embrace the yard sales finds, because it means I spend next to nothing on clothes, I don't have to go shopping, and I don't have to go naked. 

Ian: "Your mom still dresses you. You're like her human Barbie doll."

Laura: "As long as the clothes don't have too many kittens or lambs on them, I'm cool with it."

We knew my parents had embraced Ian into the family when Mom started buying him yard sale clothes. 

Child-sized Batman Lego shirt. Yes, please!

Every hippie wants his own NRA t-shirt.

3. Wear your boyfriend's old clothes.

Doing so screams, "I am faithful to my relationship." For NO ONE would ever look twice at a girl wearing her boyfriend's cast-offs. Which might make you look more sexy to your significant other. 

I wouldn't know. Ian barely notices my clothes. 

4. Coordinate outfits with your dog.

Wearing matching clothes with a canine sends the message, "I am a sexy and intelligent woman."

5. Embrace the frizz.

When I started dating Ian, I flat-ironed the hell out of my hair. For seven months, I showed off perfectly crafted, straight, shiny hair that elongated my perpetual baby cheeks and pumpkin head. 

But, as everyone knows, flat-ironing your hair is a monumental pain in the ass. I grew comfortable around Ian (i.e. "let myself go") and opted to forgo the hair torturing device. 

After flat-ironing my hair for seven months, I found my hair had developed into a permanently frizzy Bozo the Clown 'do. In other words, I murdered my hair. 

All my frizzy-haired companions: embrace it. And find a man who seems oblivious to female hair styles.

Laura: "Does my hair look frizzy?"

Ian: "Umm. What?"

Laura: "Does my hair look frizzy?"

Ian: "Umm. What do you mean?"

Laura: "My hair. Does it look frizzy?"

Ian: "Umm. I dunno. Why does it matter?"

Laura: "I guess it doesn't."  <Kicks herself for wasting seven months flat-ironing hair, destroying follicles>

6. Keep your eyebrows unkempt. 

A singular fashion magazine once informed me that bushy eyebrows are in. I choose to believe this. 

Wildly untamed eyebrows are "edgy." Also, free.

7. Use Photoshop. 

Facebook is important. For one reason only. 

Ladies, we all know Facebook functions solely to show off how hot we look. Particularly how hot we look in carefully-angled, darkly-lit bathroom photos. 

Go one step further. Use Photoshop. It's what all the supermodels are doing.