A debate of sorts broke out about what size Marilyn Monroe would really be with vanity sizing today, but Chubbers cleared it up. She also won the you-should-totally-be-a-motivational-speaker! for this priceless gem:

Ladies, our bodies are wondrous miracles: they are strong enough to bring life into this world, and then to nurture that life. Our backs can carry many burdens, and our hands are always mending, soothing, working, and loving. Let's love our bodies for what they can do, not for what size jeans we cover them in.

When even gorgeous Julianne Moore admits she basically has to eat like someone with a very bad flu in order to maintain her figure (and she's not even considered Hollywood skinny), Candy Kim busts it out and wins the "Paging Hollywood: wake up and smell the coffee!" award:

Hollywood sets this ridiculous standard which we all feel like we have to live up to. This standard becomes the norm that we expect our icons to match, and when they don't we, the normal people, deride them for it. They make us feel like we're not good enough, and in return we do the same. It's awful. No one should be existing on a diet of 500 calories a day, not eating shouldn't be the measure of job security. I really hope that comments like Julianne Moore's and even James Marsters's will open up a realistic evaluation by the industry as well as the public about what is "ideal." A diet of 500 calories a day is an eating disorder, plain and simple, and anorexia is not an ideal anyone should aspire to.

Boo-ya, lady!

You don't often see realistic female forms in comic books, mostly because the perception is that the intended audience is guys who live in their parents' basements. However artist R. Crumb is a fan of the realistic and sometimes idealized female form. He loves big butts and strong solid thighs and women who look like they could kick your ass.

Sadly, the plots of those graphic novels and comic books are as misogynistic as they come. You just can't win, apparently, but at least his artwork is awesome. Seattle readers, there's an R. Crumb exhibit in your area! However, for the rest of us, we can check out his work and appreciate those lovely lady lumps online. Just try not to read the words in the bubbles.

When I was in junior high, I wore Tretorn Nylite tennis shoes. Screw Keds, these were what all the cool girls at my school were into, and at $30 a pop (which is probably heading into the $50 price point, taking inflation into consideration), it was a serious luxury that my great-grandmother felt was an easy way to make me feel special. She was right, plus, they were super comfortable, like walking on marshmallows for the first two months of use, then they were about as kushy and flat as Converse. Eventually, though, I would wear holes in the sides of the canvas (mutant baby toe syndrome) and blam, time for new shoes. Other kids wore Reeboks and the true preppies wore L.A. Gear. Some jocks wore Puma, but usually the weird ones. Most of the time, the guys wore Nike's and later, Air Jordans. Before the Tretorns, my grandmother would buy Nike's, although she called them "Nicky's."

Kim pronounces her love for the ladies at Fit Sugar, and talks to one of our favorite super role models, Shauna Reid, about her new book and having such a healthy, balanced point of view about her body. Photos via Splash.

The thing about living here, in this small town for which I must come up with a name (let's call it Adventure City. No? Okay. I'll think of something, I'm sure) is that not having a car is a bad thing. There are things within walking distance, such as a corner, and then another corner, and then another corner, and there are things that are not in walking distance, such as everything else. But, they tell me, there are buses! Buses that will take you anywhere you want to go! I've been here, what, a week? And so far, the buses I have seen is actually bus, singular. And it didn't look very safe. It was powered by pedals and drug by a horse and was making mysterious clanking noises and I just don't think me and the bus of my new town are meant to be, is all I'm saying.

Okay, there are things within walking distance. There's a convenience store three blocks away, and Rite Aid. Four blocks the other way, there's the main drag and that's got my gym and my bank and coffee shops and restaurants and it's practically civilized out there! But it's a hike. These are long blocks! They are not reasonably sized. I shake my fist at the city planners. And I have to tell you that I actually wouldn't mind the walk. If people shoveled their driveways and maybe put some salt down and maybe the skies didn't open up every third hour and rain down white death. Snow! Ice! It puts a damper on walking. Especially when you are clumsy like me. I will not tell you how many times I have fallen down already.

When I was fourteen, I was obsessed with green M&Ms, under the impression that the green ones? They made you horny. I wasn't really certain what the whole "horny" thing was, if I was or was not horny at any one time. I had a boyfriend. He had shown me his penis, alert and spry in his brand new thatch of blond pubic hair. I wasn't really sure what happened during our major makeout sessions, when I got all twisty and twirly feeling in my pants and apparently was sweating a LOT because my underwear were always soaked. (Moms and aunties, you might do well to get your girls a subscription to Playgirl so things like this aren't quite so surprising, ok?) So yeah, the horny thing. I was down with that.

There's no real basis for the green M&M thing, but just the same, I usually stock up on the Christmas red and greens anyway, and then only eat the reds first so that I am left with a delightful pile of greenies, because it makes me laugh. (I don't eat chocolate very often, so I feel entitled to play with it a little first.)

But you know that you're officially old when gigantic corporations are picking up on your urban legends and selling them back to you. This year, M&M Mars is releasing a companion set of all green bags of M&Ms for Valentine's Day, along with their typical white/red/pink combinations. But still! All greenies! That make you horny! Or, er, give you "elevated romance levels". Which means HORNY! HA!

I'm totally grabbing a bag for myself. And maybe a Playgirl. —Weetabix

Photo via PRNewswire

So much for the "allergic to sugar" thing that was attributed to Julianne Moore for years: poor thing has admitted to basically starving herself for years on granola bars and yogurt to maintain her lithe figure. Someone get that woman an In 'n' Out burger and maybe a few cookies! Poor thing has got to be famished.

Are we finally on the cusp of celebrities being honest about their calorie consumption? Who knew that the first fired View host Debbie Manopoulus would be a counter-culture's "thinspiration" with her refreshingly honest response of "I don't eat" to the question "How do you stay so thin?" Does the fact that Vicky B exists on about 500 calories a day surprise anyone?! No, I didn't think so. Carry on.—Weetabix

Everybody's pregnant...again, a special treat for Veggie Girl, and Cooking with Kim brings you healthy, delicious scones. And today Kim gets the date right but a name wrong. It's Nigella Lawson, not Dawson. As in, it's against the law how hot she is. Photos via Splash.

You've seen Stacy dressed up in costumes on The Daily Special and sitting on the pink couch with Kim, but you've never seen her life this. Raw, raunchy, and totally exposed. Naw, not really. She's just talking about what it's like to be a bartender.

E&L: What kind of bar do you work in?

SR: It's the kind of place where the average joe comes in at happy hour after work, and at night the younger crowd comes out. It's a pretty laid back place, no frills. I love it.

E&L: Do you get hit on by pretty much every guy who comes in? 

SR: Not every guy, but I do get hit on at least once a night. I'm pretty flirtatious, but I'm also very controlling behind the bar. I try to keep things professional but friendly. Also, you know who you can safely flirt with and who to keep it strictly business with.

E&L: What lines do they try and use on you?

SR: Because our bar is open until 3:00 a.m., a lot of guys will ask to take me to the diner. I think it's a Jersey thing. Or, when I give them their check they ask if it has my number on it. I always try to joke my way out of it, if a guy has enough balls to hit on me, and not be a dick about it; I don't want to make him feel bad, or never come back. Flirters are usually good tippers. The best is when a guy hits on me, but has left a shitty tip.

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