Skinny jeans.

Everyone has a pair in their wardrobe. You know. That blouse, those jeans, that dress from way back when you were a size skinny and a half. For the record, I've never been skinny skinny. I've been skinni-er than what I am today. But never so skinny that you'd want me on a runway (then again I'm not that tall neither but that's a different blog post altogether).

So here are these jeans.My beloved Esprit low-rise jeans that hug each fleshy morsel of my existence just right. I love these jeans. Love them. And I should know because I own at least 6 pairs of denim jeans (out of which I only wear one religiously and, alas, it's no longer my Esprit pair).

Anyhoo, I call these my 'skinny jeans' for a few reasons. One, for the obvious reason I used to fit them when I was skinnier. And, two, they actually make me FEEL skinny. I should also call these my 'Magic Ass' jeans because woo-hoo! my ass finally makes its presence known in these pants! I bought them back in 2006 - actually they were a gift from my good friend Dillon. Thanks to the gift vouchers he oh-so-graciously presented me because he conceded, "I have NO idea what to buy you so buy yourself something nice!" Bless him.

Back to the jeans. I don't recall the moment they suddenly 'refused' to fit but I remember the realisation: Oh shit, my skinny jeans have turned into my muffin-top jeans! Since that woeful day, I've retired those jeans to the back of my closet and optimistically told myself one day I'll fit into them again. Today, something compelled me to dig those jeans out and confront my demons.

In fact, I took a deep breath (a damn deep one so I could suck my gut in) and put them on.
Yes, I could zip it up. No, it wasn't comfortable. Yes, they still make my ass look good. No, I am still in no shape to wear it in public.

I hung my skinny jeans back in the closet but this time in full view. So that everytime I open it, I am reminded that I've still got to earn my way back into those jeans. It's my motivation to get back to that 'Happy Body' place. What's your 'skinny jeans'?

Struggling writers. Not.

James Patterson - one of my favourite authors.

You think at least one of these peeps started out as peanut-paid freelancer? One can only hope. According to Forbes.com , here's the top earners in the literary world to date (figures in USD) :
1. James Patterson ($70m) - I'm not a big thriller-whodunnit fan, but I like his style. 'Kiss the Girls', 'Along Came a Spider', 'Cross' - just some of his good ones.

2. Stephenie Meyer ($40m) - Twilight. Enough said.

3. Stephen King ($34m) - Master of the macabre. Twisted minds DO pay.

4. Danielle Steel ($32m) - Come on, admit it, you've read her stuff. It's the one your mum stashed under her pillow, most likely with a plot involving a damsel not-so-in-distress, a tragedy in the family, an evil mother in law and, you guessed it, a happy ever after.

5. Ken Follett ($20m) - I've never read his work, truthfully.

6. Dean Koontz ($18m) -I'd hate to know who has worse nightmares - him or King.

7. Janet Evanovich ($16m) - Romance. Not quite my genre of choice.

8. John Grisham ($15m) - Ah Grisham. Didja know he was a baseball player (well, college level anyway), accountant and a lawyer (A lawyer? No way! :P) If his name isn't ringing a bell, go rent 'The Client', 'The Firm', 'The Pelican Brief', 'The Chamber'....You see a pattern here?

9. Nicholas Sparks ($14m) - The Notebook! Okay so I'm no romantic-literature fan but how can you not be a schmuck for The Notebook?

10. JK Rowling ($10m) - Happy Potter, I'm sure she is. And now that it's all ending...I wonder what's next for Rowling?

I'd almost sell my soul to be on that list. Imagine a life of raking in the big bucks while sitting on your ass doing what you love most. Damn.