Makeover By Me Quotes

Fuck me. I'm so tired of being me. Me beautiful. Me ugly. Blonde. Brunette. A million fucking fashion makeovers that only leave me trapped being me. Who I was before the accident is just a story now. Everything before now, before now, before now, is just a story I carry around. I guess that would apply to anybody in the world. What I need is a new story about who I am. What I need to do is fuck up so bad I can't save myself.

All of them had been give a makeover. Leo was wearing pinstriped pants, black leather shoes, a white collarless shirt with suspenders, and his tool belt, Ray-Ban sunglasses, and a porkpie hat. “God, Leo.” Piper tried not to laugh. “I think my dad wore that to his last premiere, minus the tool belt.” “Hey, shut up!” “I think he looks good,” said Coach Hedge. “’Course, I look better.” The satyr was a pastel nightmare. Aphrodite had given him a baggy canary yellow zoot suit with two-tone shoes that fit over his hooves. He had a matching yellow broad-brimmed hat, a rose-colored shirt, a baby blue tie, and a blue carnation in his lapel, which Hedge sniffed and then ate. “Well,” Jason said, “at least your mom overlooked me.” Piper knew that wasn’t exactly true. Looking at him, her heart did a little tap dance. Jason was dressed simply in jeans and a clean purple T-shirt, like he’d worn at the Grand Canyon. He had new track shoes on, and his hair was newly trimmed. His eyes were the same color as the sky. Aphrodite’s message was clear: This one needs no improvement. And Piper agreed.

Fuck me. I'm so tired of being me. Me beautiful. Me ugly. Blonde. Brunette. A million fucking fashion makeovers that only leave me trapped being me.

Alice was scrutinizing my boring jeans-and-a-T-shirt outfit in a way that made me self-conscious. Probably plotting another makeover. I sighed. My indifferent attitude to fashion was a constant thorn in her side. If I'd allow it, she'd love to dress me everyday―perhaps several times a day―like some oversized three-dimensional paper doll.

Sorry,” I said, realizing I was taking my frustrations out on her. “I’m still getting over Soph,” I said, referring to my old prep school friend. Sophie Price was the most beautiful girl you’d ever met. Seriously. Take it from someone who’s met Bar Refaeli in person. Soph was even more stunning. Especially since she’d had a personality makeover. I’d never regret anything as much as I would not making her fall in love with me. “You can’t make anyone fall, Spence. Either they do or they don’t.” “I said that out loud?” “Duh and it’s been two years, Spencer. You seriously need to get over her. She’s with that Ian guy anyway, right?” “Right.” “That hot South African guy named Ian,” she concluded. “Thanks.” “That hot saffy named Ian who gives his life to mutilated Ugandan orphans and worships the ground Sophie walks on.” I stopped and glared at her. “That’ll do, Bridge.

How long did it take for you to ‘embrace yourself’?” Ky asked. “I was five years old at least.” “That long, huh?” he said, lips quirked. Noah adopted the fake innocent look he seemed to favor. “What?” he said. “Kindergarten was a pivotal year for me.” Hunh.

How embarrassing. Give me needy emotional whining bullshit. Flash. Give me self-absorbed egocentric twaddle. Christ. Fuck me, I'm so tired of being me. Me beautiful. Me ugly, Blonde. Brunette. A million fucking fashion makeovers that only that only leave me trapped being me. Who I was before the accident is just a story now. Everything before now, before now, before now, is just a story I carry around. I guess that would apply to anybody in the world. what i need is a new story about who I am. what I need to do is to fuck up so bad I can't save myself.

That’s awesome, I told her, but I’m letting you use my body so that we can break into Lara’s office, not so that you can give me a makeover. Besides, if I wander around looking like this, people will either know I’m doing magic somehow or wonder how I managed to sneak a flatiron into Hex Hall. It was an odd thing, watching my face crumple into a scowl at…myself. “You’re supremely irritating when you’re right,” she said, waving her hand. Once again, my hair sprang out in a messy halo of curls.

One thing I am sure of in my Total Money Makeover: I had to quit telling myself that I had innate discipline and fabulous natural self-control. That is a lie. I have to put systems and programs in place that make me do smart things. Saying, “Cross my fingers and hope to die, I promise, promise, promise I will pay extra on my mortgage because I am the one human on the planet who has that kind of discipline,” is kidding yourself. A big part of being strong financially is that you know where you are weak and take action to make sure you don’t fall prey to the weakness. And we ALL are weak. Sick

Bram knocked, and Chas opened the door, her music growing louder. She had strips of tinfoil in her hair and a cigarette dangling from her lips–which she immediately hid behind her back when she saw Bram.   "Hiiii!"   Both of Bram's brows flitted upward. "Hi." He looked at the foil. "I'm not even gonna ask."   "Martians are trying to control my thoughts, stupid." She noticed me then and smiled. "Hi, Nora! Ooh…" Her eyes fell to the weapon. "Shiny."   "Nora needs some more appropriate clothes if she's to use the shiny," Bram said.   Chas clapped her hands together. "Makeover!"   Oh, God no.…

You made good time from Portland.” In seconds, she shunted away the brief flicker of remembered heat from her gaze and became as coolly polite as her downstairs neighbor. “I was afraid you’d be ready to string me up if I didn’t hurry.” “I

More power to anyone who wants to go that route, but it’s not for me. I don’t want to get a makeover. I don’t want to change my face. I just want a man who sees me and doesn’t see the ugly girl. He sees me and he loves me, not in spite of my face but in part because of it.

Loving who you are, not thinking about the inside? What to do? Well... If you think about it, it's nothing about yours looks at all. If there was a college for dumb and pretty people, guess how many people wouldn't make it into college. Me, and many, many of my friends. So you see, you can't take away what's already there... talking about intellegence (you can't take intellegence away from yourself). But if someone tries to give me a MAKEOVER, I of course immediatly try to be nice about it, but I can't really fit words for what I'm about to do.

Miss Ohio flailed with excitement. "Makeovers are so fun! It's like the Superman phone booth of girl." Adina sat up. "It's denigrating and objectifying." "No. It's eye shadow and lipstick and sex and mystery and magic and transformation and fun. And nobody's taking that away from me.

Fact: Cells are constantly dying and new ones are taking their place Fact: After seven years have gone by, every cell in my body has died and a new one has taken its place. Do the math. That means that every seven years, I'm a totally new me. not one of the old cells remains. Twice, I've had a total makeover

You’ve imagined yourself as Alicia for so long that you don’t give Plum a chance to be everything she can be.” “I’ve been Plum my whole life. She’s had plenty of chances.” I thought about the makeover. Shopping for cosmetics and new shoes, I supposed that’s what she had in mind. I could handle that. “And the fourth task?” “A week of blind dates.” An invisible hand punched me in the gut. “Verena—

The ARM, Adjustable Rate Mortgage, was invented in the early 1980s. Prior to that, those of us in the real estate business sold fixed-rate 7 or 8 percent mortgages. What happened? I was there in the middle of that disaster of an economy when fixed-rate mortgages went as high as 17 percent and the real estate world froze. Lenders paid out 12 percent on CDs but had money loaned out at 7 percent on hundreds of millions of dollars in mortgages. They were losing money, and lenders don’t like to lose money. So the Adjustable Rate Mortgage was born, in which your interest rate goes up when the prevailing market interest rates go up. The ARM was born to transfer the risk of higher interest rates to you, the consumer. In the last several years, home mortgage rates have been at a thirty-year low. It is not wise to get something that adjusts when you are at the bottom of rates! The mythsayers always seem to want to add risk to your home, the one place you should want to make sure has stability. Balloon mortgages are even worse. Balloons pop, and it is always strange to me that the popping sound is so startling. Why don’t we expect it? It is in the very nature of balloons to pop. Wise financial people always move away from risk, and the balloon mortgage creates risk nightmares.

Viking leaned in, stopping just short of touching me. He knew not to fucking touch me. “You carved that fucker up Krueger style, didn’t you, brother?” I stayed staring at the woods, catching the bitch’s dress disappear in the distance. “Flame?” Viking pushed. My teeth gritted, remembering piercing that fuck with my blades and I snarled. “I fucking hacked him up good. That bible pedo fucker deserved to die like that.” “So that’ll be a yes. A huge fucking yes to the extreme makeover, Krueger edition.

After you list the debts smallest to largest, pay the minimum payment to stay current on all the debts except the smallest. Every dollar you can find from anywhere in your budget goes toward the smallest debt until it is paid. Once the smallest is paid, the payment from that debt, plus any extra “found” money, is added to the next smallest debt. (Trust me, once you get going, you will find money.) Then, when debt number two is paid off, you take the money that you used to pay on number one and number two and you pay it, plus any found money, on number three. When three is paid, you attack four, and so on. Keep paying minimums on all the debts except the smallest until it is paid. Every time you pay one off, the amount you pay on the next one down increases. All the money from old debts and all the money you can find anywhere goes on the smallest until it is gone. Attack! Every time the Snowball rolls over, it picks up more snow and gets larger, and by the time you get to the bottom, you have an avalanche.

I gesture at the hair, the dress, the shiny, sexy costume that somehow caught his attention in a way that "just Meg" never did. Because the fact is, he's looked right past me all year. Even in my old gown, I didn't register - like I don't exist unless I fit their weird category of hotness. I suppose that's what they don't tell you about makeovers in the movies - that maybe the people who gasp with grand double takes aren't worth the effort. Because if I don't deserve his attention when I'm myself, then what good is he?

Speaking of makeovers, anyone notice Hort’s looking even juicier than he did at school?” chirped Dot, biting into the cocoa-pizza she’d swiped off the floor. “Saw him when we came in and he has this swarthy tan from working the moors and mud stains on his cheeks, like he’s Captain Lumberjack or something. But you know how I like woodsy types, with my crush on Robin Hood and all. Anyway, I sneak behind and give him a good sniff and notice he smells like a man now, nothing like that boy who used to wear frog pajamas and reek of baby powder, and all I could think was since there aren’t too many rooms in this place, I wonder if I can get Merlin to put me and him in the same—” “Over my dead body,” bellowed Hort, who stuck his head out from around the corner. Hester glared back, demon twitching. “That can be arranged.” Hort muttered something obscene and vanished behind the wall. Hester saw Dot goggling at her. “What now?” “Did you just defend me?” “Only because you look so stupid in that crown,” Hester grumped. All the girls laughed, even Dot.

The crowds were thick and loud, riddled with feasting, yelling adults, and screaming, overstimulated children. A ride before them was made to look like a jousting ring, while a pavilion to the side boasted a sign: PRINCESS MAKEOVERS. Everything was gendered to the hilt, as if the pasta hardcore misogyny was just a nostalgic throwback that had been transformed into wholesome family fun. Not to mention that the park was teeming with Mercer associates. No wonder the Ketchan elders had referred to it as a fortress. “This place makes me sick.

seldom list my formal academic credentials because, honestly, I don’t think they are important. I have met so many broke people with financial credentials that I almost think it discredits me to have had formal training. Yes, I have a degree in finance. Yes, I have been or am licensed in real estate, insurance, and investments. Yes, I do have many of the stupid letters to put after my name. But the thing that qualifies me most to teach about money is that I have done stupid things with zeros on the end. I have been there, done that. I have a PhD in D-U-M-B.

Uh-uh,” Della told him. “You need to fix this—now. Do you really want the Black Swan to see what you’ve done?” Keefe shrugged and grabbed a pastry from one of the platters in the center of the table. “They’re walking around crusted with ice and turning their bodies to stone. Cactus head is nothing.” “Okay, let's try this a different way,” Della decided. “If you get to makeover my son, then I get to makeover both of you.” “Works for me,” Keefe said. “I look awesome in everything.” “Tell that to your feet when they spend the rest of the week balancing in my tallest heels,” Della told him. “Okay . . . forget that.” Dex reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny brown vial. “This will get rid of the green.” “Thank you.” Della rumpled Dex’s hair as he gave the vial to Fitz. Fitz downed it in one gulp, gagging at the taste. “No more pranks,” Della said, wagging a finger at all three boys. “Or—what if Fitz looks normal, but doesn’t smell very good?” Keefe asked. Biana giggled. Della sighed. “What am I going to do with you, Keefe?” “I hear the Lord of the Universe title is up for grabs. Unless Foster’s trying to snatch it.” “All yours.” Sophie had enough responsibility already.

If you are a Christian like me, it is your spiritual duty to possess riches so that you can do with them things that bring glory to God. The bottom line is, if you take the stand that managing wealth is evil or carnal, then by default you leave all the wealth to the evil, carnal people. If wealth is spiritually bad, then good people can’t have it, so all the bad people get it. It is the duty of the good people to get wealth to keep it from the bad people because the good people will do good with it. If we all abandon money because some misguided souls view it as evil, then the only ones with money will be the pornographer, the drug dealer, or the pimp. Simple enough?

Amma closes the window, walks back, re-spreads herself languorously over the sofa, convince me why feminism getting a new lease of life isn’t a good thing, Dominique? isn’t it just what the doctor ordered? actually it’s the commodification of it that bugs me, Amma, once upon a time feminists were so vilified by the media it turned generations of women away from their own liberation because nobody wanted to be denounced as one, now they’re in a lovefest with it, have you seen all these glamorous photoshoots of stunning young feministas with their funky clothes and big attitude – until it’s no longer on trend feminism needs tectonic plates to shift, not a trendy make-over

Here’s a Reader’s Digest version of my approach. I select mutual funds that have had a good track record of winning for more than five years, preferably for more than ten years. I don’t look at their one-year or three-year track records because I think long term. I spread my retirement, investing evenly across four types of funds. Growth and Income funds get 25 percent of my investment. (They are sometimes called Large Cap or Blue Chip funds.) Growth funds get 25 percent of my investment. (They are sometimes called Mid Cap or Equity funds; an S&P Index fund would also qualify.) International funds get 25 percent of my investment. (They are sometimes called Foreign or Overseas funds.) Aggressive Growth funds get the last 25 percent of my investment. (They are sometimes called Small Cap or Emerging Market funds.) For a full discussion of what mutual funds are and why I use this mix, go to daveramsey.com and visit MyTotalMoneyMakeover.com. The invested 15 percent of your income should take advantage of all the matching and tax advantages available to you. Again, our purpose here is not to teach the detailed differences in every retirement plan out there (see my other materials for that), but let me give you some guidelines on where to invest first. Always start where you have a match. When your company will give you free money, take it. If your 401(k) matches the first 3 percent, the 3 percent you put in will be the first 3 percent of your 15 percent invested. If you don’t have a match, or after you have invested through the match, you should next fund Roth IRAs. The Roth IRA will allow you to invest up to $5,000 per year, per person. There are some limitations as to income and situation, but most people can invest in a Roth IRA. The Roth grows tax-FREE. If you invest $3,000 per year from age thirty-five to age sixty-five, and your mutual funds average 12 percent, you will have $873,000 tax-FREE at age sixty-five. You have invested only $90,000 (30 years x 3,000); the rest is growth, and you pay no taxes. The Roth IRA is a very important tool in virtually anyone’s Total Money Makeover. Start with any match you can get, and then fully fund Roth IRAs. Be sure the total you are putting in is 15 percent of your total household gross income. If not, go back to 401(k)s, 403(b)s, 457s, or SEPPs (for the self-employed), and invest enough so that the total invested is 15 percent of your gross annual pay. Example: Household Income $81,000 Husband $45,000 Wife $36,000 Husband’s 401(k) matches first 3%. 3% of 45,000 ($1,350) goes into the 401(k). Two Roth IRAs are next, totaling $10,000. The goal is 15% of 81,000, which is $12,150. You have $11,350 going in. So you bump the husband’s 401(k) to 5%, making the total invested $12,250.

Having seen several hundred lease agreements entered into by people I have counseled, my financial calculator confirms that the average interest rate is 14 percent. Shouldn’t you lease or rent things that go down in value? Not necessarily, and the math doesn’t work on a car, for sure. Follow me through this example: If you rent (lease) a car with a value of $22,000 for three years, and when you turn it in at the end of that three-year lease the car is worth $10,000, someone has to cover the $12,000 loss. You’re not stupid, so you know that General Motors, Ford, or any of the other auto giants aren’t going to put together a plan to lose money. Your fleece/lease payment is designed to cover the loss in value ($12,000 spread over 36 months is equal to $333 per month), plus provide profit (the interest you pay). Where did you get a deal in that? You didn’t! On top of that, there is the charge of 10 to 17 cents per mile for going over the allotted miles and the penalties everyone turning in a lease has experienced for “excessive wear and tear,” which takes into account every little nick, dent, carpet tear, smudge, or smell. You end up writing a large check just to walk away after renting your car. The whole idea of the back-end penalties is twofold: to get you to fleece/lease another one so you can painlessly roll the gotchas into the new lease, and to make sure the car company makes money.

After you list the debts smallest to largest, pay the minimum payment to stay current on all the debts except the smallest. Every dollar you can find from anywhere in your budget goes toward the smallest debt until it is paid. Once the smallest is paid, the payment from that debt, plus any extra “found” money, is added to the next smallest debt. (Trust me, once you get going, you will find money.) Then, when debt number two is paid off, you take the money that you used to pay on number one and number two and you pay it, plus any found money, on number three. When three is paid, you attack four, and so on. Keep paying minimums on all the debts except the smallest until it is paid. Every time you pay one off, the amount you pay on the next one down increases.

Today I bought my first issue of Modern Bride Magazine, the November issue. I have it right here. I ordered a year's subscriptioin, using the 1800 number and not the business reply mail card. Your Dream Dress (It's Here!) 50 Romantic Honeymoons - From Sweet to Sexy 12 Reception Hints You Can't Overlook 6 Real Bridal Makeovers with Expert Tips for You I discover that holding the magazine makes me anxious. I put it down. I am wondering if there is a way to make me over and, if so, will I be able to be made back. It strikes me that I am going to have to have a wedding. And it is going to have to be perfect, according to this magazine. There are 12 reception hints I can't overlook. And that's just the tip of the bayonet. My gut feeling is, My GOD, haven't I done enough?

GHOSTBUSTERS I always wanted the reboot of Ghostbusters to be four girl-ghostbusters. Like, four normal, plucky women living in New York City searching for Mr. Right and trying to find jobs—but who also bust ghosts. I’m not an idiot, though. I know the demographic for Ghostbusters is teenage boys, and I know they would kill themselves if two ghostbusters had a makeover at Sephora. I just have always wanted to see a cool girl having her first kiss with a guy she’s had a crush on, and then have to excuse herself to go trap the pissed-off ghosts of the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire or something. In my imagination, I am, of course, one of the ghostbusters, with the likes of say, Emily Blunt, Taraji Henson, and Natalie Portman. Even if I’m not the ringleader, I’m definitely the one who gets to say “I ain’t afraid a no ghost.” At least the first time.

The average household income in America is right around $50,000 per year, according to the Census Bureau. Joe and Suzy Average would invest $7,500 (15 percent) per year or $625 per month. If you make $50,000 per year and have no payments except the house mortgage and live on a budget, can you invest $625 per month? Follow me here. If Joe and Suzy invest $625 per month with no match into Roth IRAs from age thirty to age seventy, they will have $7,588,545 tax-FREE! That is almost $8 million. What if I’m half-wrong? What if you end up with only $4 million? What if I’m six times wrong? Sure beats the 97 out of 100 sixty-five-year-olds who can’t write a check for $600! I would submit to you that Joe and Suzy are well below average. Why? In our example they started at the average household income in America, and in forty years of work never got a raise. They saved 15 percent of income and never increased it by one dollar. There is no excuse to retire without financial dignity in the United States today. Most of you will have well over $2 million pass through your hands in your working lifetime, so do something about catching some of that money. Gayle asked me one day if it was too late for her to start saving. Gayle wasn’t twenty-seven like Joe and Suzy. She was fifty-seven years old, but with her attitude you would have thought this lady was 107. Harold Fisher had a much better outlook at age one hundred than Gayle did at age fifty-seven. Life had dealt her some blows and had knocked most of the hope out of her. A Total Money Makeover is not a magic show. You start where you are, and you do the steps. These steps work if you are twenty-seven or fifty-seven, and they don’t change. Gayle might be starting the retirement investing step at sixty that Joe and Suzy start at thirty years old. Gayle was unwise to enter her sixties without an emergency fund and with credit-card debt and a car payment. She, like all of us, couldn’t save when she has debt and no umbrella for when it rains. Would it have been better for Gayle to start when she was twenty-seven or even forty-seven? Obviously. But once she was done with the pity party, she still needed to start with Baby Step One and follow The Total Money Makeover step-by-step to put herself in the best position possible.

Mindy runs to the DVD player and delicately places the disk in the holder and presses play. “Will you sit in this chair, please, Princess Mindy?” I ask, bowing deeply at the waist. Mindy giggles as she replies, ”I guess so.” After Mindy sits down, I take a wide-tooth comb and start gently combing out her tangles. Mindy starts vibrating with excitement as she blurts, “Mr. Jeff, you’re gonna fix my hair fancy, ain’t you?” “We’ll see if a certain Princess can hold still long enough for me to finish,” I tease. Immediately, Mindy becomes as still as a stone statue. After a couple of minutes, I have to say, “Mindy, sweetheart, it’s okay to breathe. I just can’t have you bouncing, because I’m afraid it will cause me to pull your hair.” Mindy slumps down in her chair just slightly. “Okay Mr. Jeff, I was ascared you was gonna stop,” she whispers, her chin quivering. I adopt a very fake, very over-the-top French accent and say, “Oh no, Monsieur Jeff must complete Princess Mindy’s look to make the Kingdom happy. Mindy erupts with the first belly laugh I’ve heard all day as she responds, “Okay, I’ll try to be still, but it’s hard ‘cause I have the wiggles real bad.” I pat her on the shoulder and chuckle as I say, “Just try your best, sweetheart. That’s all anyone can ask.” Kiera comes screeching around the corner in a blur, plunks her purse on the table, and says breathlessly, “Geez-O-Pete, I can’t believe I’m late for the makeover. I love makeovers.” Kiera digs through her purse and produces two bottles of nail polish and nail kit. “It’s time for your mani/pedi ma’am. Would you prefer Pink Pearl or Frosted Creamsicle? Mindy raises her hand like a schoolchild and Kiera calls on her like a pupil, “I want Frosted Cream toes please,” Mindy answers. “Your wish is my command, my dear,” Kiera responds with a grin. For the next few minutes, Mindy gets the spa treatment of her life as I carefully French braid her hair into pigtails. As a special treat, I purchased some ribbons from the gift shop and I’m weaving them into her hair. I tuck a yellow rose behind her ear. I don my French accent as I declare, “Monsieur Jeffery pronounces Princess Mindy finished and fit to rule the kingdom.” Kiera hands Mindy a new tube of grape ChapStick from her purse, “Hold on, a true princess never reigns with chapped lips,” she says. Mindy giggles as she responds, “You’re silly, Miss Kiera. Nobody in my kingdom is going to care if my lips are shiny.” Kiera’s laugh sounds like wind chimes as she covers her face with her hands as she confesses, “Okay, you busted me. I just like to use it because it tastes yummy.” “Okay, I want some, please,” Mindy decides. Kiera is putting the last minute touches on her as Mindy is scrambling to stand on Kiera’s thighs so she can get a better look in the mirror. When I reach out to steady her, she grabs my hand in a death grip. I glance down at her. Her eyes are wide and her mouth is opening and closing like a fish. I shoot Kiera a worried glance, but she merely shrugs. “Holy Sh — !” Mindy stops short when she sees Kiera’s expression. “Mr. Jeff is an angel for reals because he turned me into one. Look at my hair Miss Kiera, there are magic ribbons in it! I’m perfect. I can be anything I want to be.” Spontaneously, we all join together in a group hug. I kiss the top of her head as I agree, “Yes, Mindy, you are amazing and the sky is the limit for you.

This is the part of the book where the author usually sums it all up in a conclusion chapter and announces, “I did it!” I suppose I could have titled it “The Finale,” but that’s just not me. I don’t think you ever reach a point in life (or in writing!) where you get to say that. It ain’t over till it’s over. I want to be an eternal student, always pushing myself to learn more, fear less, fight harder. What lies in the future? Truthfully, I don’t know. For some people, that’s a scary thought. They like their life mapped out and scheduled down to the second. Not me. Not anymore. I take comfort in knowing not everything is definite. There’s where you find the excitement, in the unknown, uncharted, spaces. If I take the lead in my life, I expect that things will keep changing, progressing, moving. That’s the joy for me. Where will I go next? What doors will open? What doors will close? All I can tell you is that I will be performing and connecting with people--be it through dance, movies, music, or speaking. I want to inspire and create. I love the phrase “I’m created to create.” That’s what I feel like, and that’s what makes me the happiest. I’m building a house right now--my own extreme home makeover. I love the process of tearing something down and rebuilding it, creating something from nothing and bringing my artistic vision to it. I will always be someone who likes getting his hands dirty. But the blueprint of my life has completely changed from the time I was a little boy dreaming about fame. It’s broadened and widened. I want variety in my life; I like my days filled with new and different things. I love exploring the world, meeting new people, learning new crafts and art. It’s why you might often read what I’m up to and scratch your head: “I didn’t know Derek did that.” I probably didn’t before, but I do now.

You see, they hadn’t said a single nice thing to me since I had gotten the makeover,

Dawn had not yet said anything nice. She was trying to be friendly, but something wasn’t right. Did she think I looked terrible? Was she mad at me?

You just said you had been thinking about it for awhile,” Dawn cut in. “Thinking about it,” I said. “But you know me —” “I thought I did.” Dawn jammed some bean curd in her mouth.

Eventually, Simon shifts his position, grunting lightly, and then says, “Nice makeover.” “Are you hitting on me?” Harrison jokes. “All I want is to be your frienemy,” Simon jokes back. “I’m not ready for commitment,” Harrison says. “Too young for that.

Kim was twenty-three, single, on her own, and at a job making $27,000 per year. She had recently started her Total Money Makeover. She was behind on credit cards, not on a budget, and barely making her rent because her spending was out of control. She let her car insurance drop because she “couldn’t afford it.” She did her first budget and two days later was in a car wreck. Since it wasn’t bad, the damage to the other guy’s car was only about $550. As Kim looked at me through panicked tears, that $550 might as well have been $55,000. She hadn’t even started Baby Step One. She was trying to get current, and now she had one more hurdle to clear before she even started. This was a huge emergency. Seven years ago George and Sally were in the same place. They were broke with new babies, and George’s career was sputtering. George and Sally fought and scraped through a Total Money Makeover. Today they are debt-free, even their $85,000 home. They have a $12,000 emergency fund, retirement in Roth IRAs, and even the kids’ college is funded. George has grown personally, his career has blossomed, and he now makes $75,000 per year while Sally stays home with the kids. One day a piece of trash flew out of the back of George’s pickup and hit a car behind him on the interstate. The damage was about $550. I think you can see that George and Sally probably adjusted one month’s budget and paid the repairs, while Kim dealt with her wreck for months. The point is that as you get in better shape, it takes a lot more to rock your world. When the accidents occurred, George’s heart rate didn’t even change, but Kim needed a Valium sandwich to calm down. Those true stories illustrate the fact that as you progress through your Total Money Makeover, the definition of an emergency that is worthy to be covered by the emergency fund changes. As you have better health insurance, disability insurance, more room in your budget, and better cars, you will have fewer things that qualify as emergency-fund emergencies. What used to be a huge, life-altering event will become a mere inconvenience.

At this point in your Total Money Makeover, you are debt-free except for the house, and you have three to six months of expenses ($10,000+/–) saved for emergencies. At this point in your Total Money Makeover, you are putting 15 percent of your income into retirement savings and you are investing for your kid’s college education with firm goals in sight on both. You are now one of the top 5 to 10 percent of Americans because you have some wealth, have a plan, and are under control. At this point in your Total Money Makeover, you are in grave danger! You are in danger of settling for “Good Enough.” You are at the eighteen-mile mark of a marathon, and now that it is time to reach for the really big gold ring, the final two Baby Steps could seem out of your reach. Let me assure you that many have been at this point. Some have stopped and regretted it; others have stayed gazelle-intense long enough to finish the race. The latter have looked and seen just one major hurdle left, after which they can walk with pride among the ultra-fit who call themselves financial marathoners. They can count themselves among the elite who have finished The Total Money Makeover.

Besides, no one is electing me as I am and I’d make a porn long before I’d put myself through the stodgy makeover they say I need.

EXTREME CHANGES Then He said to them all, “If anyone wants to come with Me, he must deny himself, take up his cross daily, and follow Me.” Luke 9:23 HCSB Jesus made an extreme sacrifice for you. Are you willing to make extreme changes in your life for Him? Can you honestly say that you’re passionate about your faith and that you’re really following Jesus? Hopefully so. But if you’re preoccupied with other things—or if you’re strictly a one-day-a-week Christian—then you’re in need of an extreme spiritual makeover! Nothing is more important than your wholehearted commitment to your Creator and to His only begotten Son. Your faith must never be an afterthought; it must be your ultimate priority, your ultimate possession, and your ultimate passion. You are the recipient of Christ’s love. Accept it enthusiastically and share it passionately. Jesus deserves your extreme enthusiasm; the world deserves it; and you deserve the experience of sharing it. The Christian faith is meant to be lived moment by moment. It isn’t some broad, general outline—it’s a long walk with a real Person. Details count: passing thoughts, small sacrifices, a few encouraging words, little acts of kindness, brief victories over nagging sins. Joni Eareckson Tada A TIMELY TIP Think about your relationship with Jesus: what it is, and what it can be. Then, as you embark upon the next phase of your life’s journey, be sure to walk with your Savior every step of the way.

No one is interested with your past, non-professional relationship with Agent Harris, Detective Garner.” I cut them off. Seriously, nobody wants to hear it (I know I do not), since it is probably a perfect fairy tale of a prodigy guy and prodigy girl, and together they catch bad guys while looking excessively beautiful at doing it. They look so majestic side by side, like prom king and queen from some cheesy coming-of-age movie where they dance flawlessly and sing like pro despite that it’s their first gig. Also, their eyes sparkle. It takes a long, sort-of out-of-sense explanation why eyes can figuratively sparkle, but it just does. You know in romantic comedy movie where the guy stares far away and then he is smiling when he finally makes a decision involving the only girl he wants to spend eternity with? And girl when she meets a boy band member? Yeah, that’s how they look at each other. Jemma looks at this guy like how girl looks at boy (ah, it even sounds sexist in my head), but not at me. She looks like me like I am a special case that she wants to solve. She looks at me like she's trying to find my eyes (which is, always there, I don't know why it is so hard for her to see a pair of black dots above my nose), and maybe I am a little bit irritated because this Harris guy breathes and just like that, you can see the grace in Garner--how big, mushy twinkie, of a person she really is. Also, I am definitely irritated because Jemma's ex is terrifyingly perfect, it's alarming, but then there's me. She's settling down with me. I feel insecure and I do not like that feeling. So, like a literal five years old child, I stroll between them, ruining their unexpected reunion (hey, doesn't anyone want to talk about how Harris tracked down all cases at JCPD so he can jump into whatever his ex is currently working on? This is not reunion, it's stalking) and offer him a handshake. At the time like this, I wish I had electricity running through my palm. I probably couldn’t end this Harris guy’s life, but at least I could give his perfect blond hair a ‘struck by lightning’ makeover. “Hi, Detective Irving. Homicide Unit. Strategic Expert. By the way, I’m good at combining them, you know.” I introduce myself. Which is true, I can be writing a mental note on how to eliminate this threat in my head for all he knows. “Strategy, and murder. I can mix them up.

Guurl. Tell me. Do you keep your hair this long for religious reasons? Like, will you lose your strength if you cut it?--Terry, a member of the glam squad, to Khloe Richardson

So what would happen if I broke in? Would a wart appear on my nose? Would a she-devil manifest in a swirl of black smoke to drag me down to hell? Would Lady Gaga apparate and give me a make-over?

Science writers Po Bronson and Ashley Merryman have found that ethnic pride is an important element of self-esteem for other races but they draw the line at whites: “It’s horrifying to imagine kids being ‘proud to be white’. ” Many intellectuals believe whites are collectively guilty. As James Traub of The New Yorker wrote, when it comes to any discussion about race, whites must acknowledge that they are the offending party: “One’s hand is stayed by the knowledge of innumerable past hurts and misdeeds. The recognition of those wrongs, along with the acceptance of the sense of collective responsibility—guilt—that comes with recognition is a precondition to entering the discussion [about race].” Joe Klein, in New York Magazine, wrote that any conversation about race must begin with a confession: “It’s our fault; we’re racists.” “Black anger and white surrender have become a staple of contemporary racial discourse,” writes another commentator. Most blacks endorse this view. James Baldwin wrote that any real dialogue between the races requires a confession from whites that is nothing less than “a cry for help and healing.” Popular culture casually denigrates whites. Jay Blumenfield, an executive producer for the Showtime cable network, was working in 2004 on a reality program tentatively titled “Make Me Cool,” in which a group of blacks were to give “hipness makeovers” to a series of “desperately dweebie” whites. Why whites? Mr. Blumenfield explained that the purpose of the program was to correct “uncoolness,” and that “the easiest way to express that is they’ll be white.” Gary Bassell, head of an advertising agency that specializes in reaching Hispanics explained that “we’ve been shaped by an American pop culture today that increasingly proves that color is cool and white is washed out.” Miss Gallagher noted above that there are “few things more degrading than being proud to be white.” The United States Patent and Trademark Office (USPTO) agrees. In 2005, it refused to grant a trademark on the phrase “White Pride Country Wide.” It explained that “the ‘white pride’ element of the proposed mark is considered offensive and therefore scandalous.” The USPTO has nevertheless trademarked “Black Power” and “Black Supremacy,” and apparently finds nothing scandalous in “African Pride,” “Native Pride!” “Asian Pride,” “Black Pride,” “Orgullo Hispano” (Hispanic Pride), “Mexican Pride,” and “African Man Pride,” all of which have been trademarked.

The old man in the opposite seat has gone now. I can see my reflection in the dark glass, broken up every now and then by the flash of a light. A lock of thick, blonde hair has come loose from its up-do, and oh God, the make-up. I’d forgotten about that. I’m wearing way too much of the bloody stuff. Industrial quantities of it. I’ve been sponged and brushed to within an inch of my life. My eyes have been smothered with kohl and mascara. Apparently, it’s the smoky eyed look, but I’m not too sure. I look like I’ve gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson. If the house-mate hadn’t taken it on herself to give me a make-over first thing this morning, then I wouldn’t be looking like a cross between a tangerine and a clown right now. She’s good at plenty of things, Lucy, such as managing an art gallery and navigating her way around the London Underground, but she’s certainly useless when it comes to make-overs. I’ll swing by a shop when I get off the tube and source a packet of wipes

An hour. Not nearly enough time to lose five pounds, have a makeover and become glamorous and sophisticated. Why, oh, why hadn’t she learned French? Or aikido? Anything that would make her interesting for Jonny Blaze? She briefly wondered if aikido was the martial arts training or the dog breed, then sighed. Too late to worry about that now. As it was, she was going to be stuck being herself.

One of the others?” I’m not sure what she meant by that. “One of the other Reed girls.” She grins at me. “You’re officially a Reed Significant Other.” She starts to tick items off on her fingers. “So, you’re officially invited to girls’ night, makeover parties, and shopping trips.” She jerks a thumb toward Kit. “And babysitting.

It tastes like you,” he said. The heat rushed into my face. “Uh, yeah, my lip balm…same flavor.” “I think it just became my favorite ice cream.” Ookaay. So was that an endorsement of my kiss? “You say that like you’d never tried it before.” “I hadn’t.” I stared at him. “It’s one of their most famous. How could you not try it?” “I’m not into trends. Just because someone else is doing it, doesn’t mean I want to.” I glanced down at the ice cream melting in the carton. I remembered his taste--root beer. And Mac’s? I really couldn’t say. It was rare when I didn’t delve into ice cream with gusto. “Earlier you said you and Mac had talked about me. What exactly?” “Just usual guy stuff.” “Like what?” “How much he likes you.” My insecurities were circling. “Did he like me before Dave and Bubba’s, before Tiffany put me through the extreme makeover?” “Why wouldn’t he?” He sounded completely baffled, like maybe I’d just asked a Tiffany-style question. “Okay, look, earlier, when I mentioned being honest, I just wanted to say that it was weird kissing Mac in front of you, because I don’t kiss guys in front of people. So, anyway, I just wanted you to know that.” “Consider it known.” “Okay then.” I got up. “Do you want me to leave this with you?” “Sure you don’t mind?” “Nah.” I handed him the carton and spoon. “Enjoy.” My offer wasn’t totally generous. I took perverse pleasure at the thought he’d think about me with each bite. I wondered if maybe he might have been my date tonight if he wasn’t living in my house. Would it be rude to ask him to move out?

Before long, Khawlah lifted the black robe from her lover.  I could see clearly the face of the other woman, who was the beautiful Gharam; she was a cousin of Nasreen and Khawlah's lady-in-waiting. I had assisted each of them in the fashion makeover. They were often spotted in each other’s company, although on the surface they seemed more like friends than lovers. I suppose they were much like Andy and me, portraying a picture perfect male friendship, yet we were lovers in private. In both cases, intimate companions and lovers were all rolled into one.

Our children are absorbing everything we do and say. Don’t just think about what you are feeding their bodies; consider what you are feeding their minds. Let the words that you direct toward them, as well as toward your husband, be words that lift up instead of tear down. They need healthy food to build strong bodies, and they need healthy words to build strong spirits. There will be enough in the world to challenge their confidence. It is your job to create unshakable character through the words that you choose. Eliminate the toxic phrases but also look for opportunities to feed them with words and phrases that enrich and empower. “You did it!” “You are so smart!” “You amaze me!” “I am astounded at how incredible you are!” These words act like building blocks, creating strength and competence. And the opportunities to build them up are always there.

Shifting from a superior/inferior paradigm to a strength-in-difference paradigm was kind of a good news/bad news situation. On the downside, I had to admit Bruce had been right to resist my Pygmalion makeover attempts. On the upside, I finally had someone I could work on: me. I noticed my tendency to micromanage him and made a conscious effort to let go. I practiced being a better listener. I kept my mouth shut and tried to put myself in his shoes before speaking. This approach, ironically, gave me the very control I had sought in making our marriage a more livable situation. This I could do, and with a lot less wear and tear. After years of hearing the old adage “You can only change yourself,” I finally understood it. About a year into my waking up white journey, I realized I’d been unknowingly caught in a similar dynamic in the racial arena. During all the years I’d tried to help and fix people of color, part of my subconscious expectation had been that people outside my culture should assimilate to my ways, see and do things the way I’d been taught was right and normal. Unlike in my marriage, however, where Bruce and I felt free to tell each other how frustrated we were, in cross-racial relationships such freedom of expression often does not exist. Because throughout history speaking up has cost people of color jobs, homes, and even lives, too often the choice is to stay silent. There’s a long and painful American history of people of color, when in the presence of white people, conforming to survive. The cost is staggering. The silencing of feedback from people of color can create a deadlock dynamic in which white people remain ignorant about their impact, while people of color accumulate frustration.

The American Cancer Society sponsors a complimentary makeover program called “Look Good, Feel Better.” Offered monthly, these 2-hour group sessions lead you through a 12-step program to give your looks (and spirits) a lift. Plus, you are given a box full of cosmetics specific to your skin type and color to take home, compliments of leading cosmetic companies (Estée Lauder, Chanel, Lancôme, etc.). You’re even provided with a basic wig if you need it. For details, call 1-800-395-LOOK or your local American Cancer Society office (see page 41).

He was right behind me and putting on mom’s pink apron that said ‘Hot Stuff Comin’ Through.

I love and admire beauty in all forms. I have an innate desire to strive for excellence in everything I take on. I’m more tough than sensitive. I seem to have more “manly” qualities in terms of behavior, although I love to celebrate the “girly” in me.

I’m definitely an ambivert, meaning I’m both introverted and extroverted. While I come across as very social—and I am to a large degree—I’m usually one of the first to want to leave a party because of overstimulation. I have a cap on how much chatter I can handle. I much prefer one-on-one connection to large groups, and I covet my quiet and alone time. I’m also a deep thinker about big-picture ideas. I love to ponder the “whys” of life. Superficial conversation bores me, and I need artistic expression to feel connected to myself.

I think if there was a boarding school for personality makeovers, you'd probably get a scholarship.

Sven, “the Swede” who had a detectable Brooklyn accent, talked the entire time. He was beyond excited about my makeover and wouldn’t let me look until he was finished. It was that dramatic. Finally, he squealed, “Are you ready, little one?” I glanced up at Sven. He was so wound up, he could barely contain himself. Though he was very tall and extremely blond, he reminded me of Martin Short’s character in Father of the Bride.

When Mom picked me up a little after nine, I expected her to rave about my make-over. Instead, I got a lecture about how girls my age were trying to grow up too quickly and make-up should enhance one’s natural beauty. Crushed, I remained silent the entire way home.

Finn caught my expression and cuffed my chin. “What?” “I’m feeling especially Hank Shelby-ish at the moment, Clyde. Mean and ugly. I need a miracle makeover, and I don’t think I can pull one out of a Wally bag.” “We’ve come this far, Bonnie Rae. We can find a dress in a party town like Vegas with our hands tied behind our backs. We have five hours, and we’re in walking distance of everything. Don’t cry, Hank. We’ll find you a pretty dress.” He winked at me, and I gave him a smile, but Finn had no idea what he was getting into. I decided not to even try to explain

Whoa! Where’d your black eye go?” she asked as I set my tray down and sat beside her. “Tiffany covered it up for me.” “I’ll say. I hate to think how much she damaged the ozone with all the hairspray she must have used on your hair.” “Thanks, Bird. You look nice this evening, too,” I said. The waitress dropped off a basket of hot rolls. I grabbed one and started slathering butter on it. “Sorry. It’s just a shock to see you looking so…” “Pretty.” “You’ve always been pretty.” “Oh, please. Can we move on to another subject?” I glanced over to see Jason eating and talking with Brandon. “Yeah, I think we better. I’ve heard of head injuries changing people’s personalities--” “Bird, you don’t live with a beauty queen, okay? I know when it comes to appearances, I’ll always fall short. And if you want to know the truth, I’m a little self-conscious about the whole makeover.” “Sorry,” she said. “Subject change?” “Right.” She looked around as though searching for a subject. I hated being so irritable, but I just didn’t feel like me tonight.

*Thrown-Together Disaster Funeral is my new HGTV show. It’s a makeover funeral show where three flamboyant gay guys and a judgmental sassy broad (think Wanda Sykes) crash a tacky funeral and fix it. Wanda’s catchphrase is “Nuh-huh. Everyone out of this church. This funeral is a disaster.

The reason we list smallest to largest is to have some quick wins. This is the “behavior modification over math” part I referred to earlier. Face it, if you go on a diet and lose weight the first week, you will stay on that diet. If you go on a diet and gain weight or go six weeks with no visible progress, you will quit. When training salespeople, I try to get them a sale or two quickly because that fires them up. When you start the Debt Snowball and in the first few days pay off a couple of little debts, trust me, it lights your fire. I don’t care if you have a master’s degree in psychology; you need quick wins to get fired up. And getting fired up is super-important.

And don’t you ever in your life point that finger at me again,” he said. “‘Less you want to lose it.

An obvious step to working the Debt Snowball is to stop borrowing. Otherwise, you will just be changing the names of the creditors on your debt list. So you must draw a line in the sand and say, “I will never borrow again.” As soon as you make that statement, there will be a test. Trust me. Your transmission will go out. Your kid will need braces. It is almost as if God wants to see if you are really gazelle-intense. At this point, you are ready for a plastectomy—plastic surgery to cut up your credit cards. I’m often asked, “Dave, should I cut my cards up now or when I pay them off?” Cut them up NOW. A permanent change in your view of debt is your only chance. No matter what happens, you have to pursue the opportunity or solve the challenge without debt. It has to stop. If you think you can get out of debt without huge resolve to stop borrowing, you are wrong. You can’t get out of a hole by digging out the bottom.

Incentive-based campaigns are another arena where the classics can get a fresh makeover. One institution I worked with offered a $500 scholarship to students who visited the campus and took the typical two-hour campus tour. But they weren’t getting much interest. So at the next fair, we created a sign that said “Earn $250 an hour—ask me how!” Talk about an attention grabber! Suddenly we had student after student asking us what that meant and filled up the campus tour slots for weeks to come. By approaching these classic strategies with a creative mindset, institutions can ensure their campaigns remain relevant, engaging, and effective. The key lies in the twist.