Texas®

Hey ladies that asked about my shoes and such, I was browsing online today, on my lunch break of course, and saw that two pair of the shoes I bought on ‘What Not to Wear’ were on mega sale at Piperlime.

shoe1These really awesome snakeskin Boutique 9′s – which are super comfy and far prettier in person than in this pic – are now just $59 bucks!

 

shoe2And these colorblocked peep-toe pumps by Biviel Couture in grey, turquoise and brown are now just $79 bucks!

 

 

I still have yet to find one single place that is offering the red shoes Read more

Coming off the heels of the WTNW watching party and charity event and coupling that with Father’s Day, let us say it was indeed a long weekend. But, as promised, I’m going to give you an update on how the charity event went, answer a few questions and show you a ton of photos from my week in New York.

First and foremost, thanks to everyone who was able to make it out to Jack’s Backyard for the watching party. With your help, we were able to raise a lot of money for Attitudes & Attire and I couldn’t be happier! They are such an amazing organization, helping far needier women than you could ever imagine. I will continue to work with Attitudes & Attire on my own time and will keep you updated when they have events and clothing drives. Read more

Ladies,

You’ve written, you left comments. You all are amazing. You have all been so kind. So sweet. And though I’m still overwhelmed, and, let’s be honest, tipsy from the party, I’ll have plenty to say soon, but, gosh, you all are wonderful. Update: Here ya go.

I promise to post pictures and thoughts and everything else on Saturday…or Sunday. .. you know, it happens to be the weekend and all..

But, I’m so proud to say, we turned my ‘watching party’ tonight into a benefit that raised a lot of money for a great cause!

Hi all…

I wanted to give you an update on all the donations for tomorrow night’s charity raffle and What Not to Wear watching party. We’ve had some pretty generous donations come in since Monday….

Attendees can buy raffle tickets for $1 each, and 100% of the proceeds will go to Attitudes & Attire. Buy early and buy often to increase your chances of winning your favorite item or items. The more money you help us raise, the more women Attitudes & Attire can help!

Raffle packages include:

SUITE GETAWAY – retail value: $915
Retreat to a one night weekend stay in one of Hotel Zaza’s luxury concept suites Read more

In late March of this year, Best of Texas threw a charity event, (you all helped us raised a ton of cash and a carload of donations for The Bridge, btw) with the help of their friends at Jack’s Backyard and local Dallas band, Eastwood. Little did I know I’d been nominated for TLC’s hit show, ‘What Not to Wear’ by my husband, Joshua. So it was at the event that Stacy and Clinton pounced. 

When I returned from my trip to New York, I wanted to find a way help give others a taste of the experience, because being on the show gave me far more than just a new wardrobe. Stacy and Clinton genuinely helped me find my confidence again. (Think ten years of cognitive behavioral therapy in a matter of days.) I knew we’d promised everyone a watching party, so it just made sense that we turn the party into a charity raffle that would benefit Attitudes & Attire. Read more

wntw3Greetings, Squawkees. I’m back and though my outside looks wholly different, my insides are still all me. See that photo to the right? I’m the black blob in the middle. The other two? That would be Jason and Beatriz. I mentioned last week that I won’t be able to talk with you about my experience with What Not to Wear, nor will I be able to show any other photos, but I assure you you, when we have the watching party at Jack’s Backyard, you’re all invited. Suffice it to say though, I’m tired, sniffly, and yes, even I can say I look pretty fabulous – something I wouldn’t have been able to say a week ago. Read more

Good morning, the kind crew of WNTW are no longer allowing me to blog. There’s a totally awesome surprise attached to that caveat, though…that and they know I have a big mouth and might totally spill the beans for tonight.

Instead let me say this: Cheese and noodles, stupid. Blondie. Jamaican. Jumpsuit. Thigh mic. Baffle. Boom. Drag Queen. Soda money. Wheelchair. Polar bears and their purpose. Sick bitches. Guy Smiley. Peach Pot. Meatloaf. Bino. Eric. Douglas Blue Eyes. Mean Bea. Jackie Ass Hater. Evil Banana Republic Guy. Can I have a Kleenex? Hoodie. Yoda. Jawa. Cab Stealing. Lucy. Chicken cutlets. Bones in food. Headless tilts.

Sorry…

See you all live and in person tomorrow, Dallas…You’ll see me if you know where to go and what time.  

If the ground shakes violently at approximately 11 a.m. Friday morning, it means me, my bodacious D-sized ta-tas and my wardrobe have arrived. Though, we might need a second plane for all of my shoes.

Mrs. Marcos would be far too formal for as much as we’ve shared. By all means, just call me Imelda. Would you like some coffee? No, fine. Just allow me to pour myself a cup, you don’t mind that I’m lounging in a robe, do you? Thanks. Ah, perfect, now that I have my coffee, let me tell you a little story about a wild, gray haired gal with a closely guarded but deep seated shoe fetish and what happens when you turn her loose at DSW.

dsw-01Oh, you don’t have time for a story? Neither do I. I left this freaking hotel at the crack of dawn and didn’t return until midnight last night. I’m freakin tired. So, here are the highlights:

We ate breakfast. Me and Jason? We’re totally twinsies now: scrambled eggs, wheat toast, taters, coffee. He just doesn’t have my nasty cigarette habit.

Jason, me, Beatriz, The Earring Lady, and Todd storm Union Square’s DSW’s entrance. I mean we STORMED that mutha. In fact, we stormed it 576 THOUSAND times before we got the right shot of me prancing my pert little butt in there.

Then we stormed that DSW escalator. Gratefully, we did this in one take.

Next, Jason, me, Beatriz, The Earring Lady, Todd and, now, someone named Valencia, storm the DSW store. I mean we STORMED that mutha. In fact, we stormed it 576 BILLIONTY times before we got the right shot of me frothing at the mouth to get in there.

Before we go any further, allow me to introduce to you our cast of characters for the day:

Jason – you met him yesterday. Trusty sidekick. Shoulder to cry upon. Quick to call me many variations of Peach, including, but not limited to: Peach, Peaches and Peach Pot. Jason has the unfortunate task of lugging around a 600 pound camera to film me. In addition to his aforementioned duties, he is also a producer. I heart Jason. I heart Jason hard. He’s with me morning, noon and night.

Beatriz – Director. Cute as a bug. My height. Her job requires her to ask me mean questions such as: Why are you crying? Do those _______ make you feel pretty/sexy/ like a fly mutha-bleeper? Though I call Bea, The Mean Lady, Read more

It was a dark and stormy day. Monday morning found me packing up the few items of clothing I had, sans workout clothes, sliding on my trusty flip-flops, and hopping into a cab with Jason G, my trusty sidekick. Our first stop? The amazing Bra Guru.

Trusty Sidekick

{intimacy}, located in Madison Avenue, was kind enough to open up for little ‘ol bra-impaired me for a private fitting, and frankly, I was excited. As the door was unlocked, I was immediately greeted by the lovely Dee Binyard, Bra Fit Stylist. I had the shop to myself and I assure you, Dee knows her bras. In a matter of minutes, I’d been fitted so perfectly into four beautiful bras. I wanted to kiss the woman for her genius, instead, I begged Dee to let me leave the store wearing my new low cut t-shirt bra. A bra that felt as if God himself had made it just for me. (During my visit, I did my best to get Jason to try on a pink and purple lacy thong, but, no dice.) As she wrapped up the remaining bras, she and the ladies of {intimacy}, gave me a gift of a beautiful lingerie bag and special wash to insure I take good care of the bras who know were making my ‘girls’ look so good, I couldn’t help starting at my own chest. Jealous? Well, if you live in Dallas or Houston, you’re in luck, both cities have {intimacy} locations. Do your boobs and your clothes a favor and visit.

22Next we were off to the What Not to Wear studios. Located on the 5th floor of a Union Square area building, the space was small and very efficient. Pre-interview, introductions to crew, and wired for sound, the next 10 hours found me changing in and out of clothes, confronting the 360 mirror, and watching my clothes being trashed. As hot and sweaty as the lights were, as devastating and enlightening as the 360 mirror was, I must admit, the trashing of the clothes was…cathartic and happily I was able to keep a few things. I was introduced to my ‘rules’ mannequins and thought, as they yelled, ‘cut!’ that I was done. I rushed back to my room in the studio, put on my clothes, packed my back and was ready to go back to the hotel, exhausted. My head was reeling with information, apparently I have a large rack, who knew? My ego bruised and a little defiant and I was, honestly, emotionally and intellectually feeling a little battered. My escape, was short lived.

Bye Bye Clothes

Bye Bye Clothes

Jason alerted me that I had one final interview for the day. *sigh* I had to go back to my room in the studio, pull a dress out of the trash bin, sit in a chair and answer some pretty hard questions about myself. “Why are you drowning yourself in clothes?” “How do you feel….” “Why do you think…” I was tired, I gave my answers, cried a little, okay, a lot, and finally I was freed. I understand know why the women on the show cry and get cranky. They’re just as exhausted from shooting and reshooting, room level checks, and everything else that comes with the complications of making a show as I was. It’s not a lack of gratitude on their part, we’re all grateful for this once in a life time opportunity, its simply physical and emotional exhaustion you’re seeing, and I assure you of that.

13 hours later, I was finally allowed to hoof it from the WNTW studios, suitcase in hand, leapt through puddles and dodged raindrops the size of half dollars. Finally in the confines of my hotel room, I found myself, beer in hand, doing my best to try to reconcile the last 13 hours of my life. And this morning I still haven’t.

But I’ll let you in on a few things I learned before I go on my first day of shopping with Jason:

Flip Flops are not ideal for rainy NYC days and nights.

There is, apparently, a “sex kitten” inside of me.

I have big boobs. I swear I didn’t know this.

Some body mics have teeth. Teeth that will bite the aforementioned boobs.

I can’t open my hotel windows thanks to a man on the 19th floor that decided to go out on the ledge.

Saying goodbye to old, frumpy, bury herself in clothes Amanda felt good. Damn good.

Talk to you soon, Texas!

Good morning, Texas! That picture is the view from my room at 6 a.m. Texas time, as you can see, this morning is cloudy and cold, we’re also expecting rain. Monday is here and today the horrors of the 360 mirror are upon me. In just a few scant hours I’ll be whisked away to have my wardrobe trashed, with great aplomb I’m sure, I’ll be fitted by the Bra Guru, and shall spend my day in a brand new What Not to Wear Studio.

But of, friends, lets talk about yesterday’s little Newark airport adventure, shall we? After landing in lovely Newark, New Jersey, I found my way to baggage claim, snagged my near empty suitcase and found my way outdoors for two pressing reasons:

A.) I needed a cigarette or seven after spending an ungodly flight sitting in front of three women. Women with voices that could only be described as Edith Bunker. Make that Edith with strep throat and a Georgia accent. They felt it was not only important to talk as loudly as they could, they also felt it was their responsibility to describe everything that was happening on the plane. “Oh! That baby is crying. That baby is upset. Can you hear that baby crying?” Other greatest hits included, “Oh! Do you hear that little dog? That little dog is barking! Oh that dog is upset.” which was often followed by, “Oh! The stewardess is coming with drinks! I see the cart. Oh the stewardess is here! Dear, may I have a Blind Mary? I just love Blind Marys.” One can only assume she meant Bloody Mary. Read more