So between 2005-2008 I lost about 90 pounds (with exercise and decent eating habits) and have managed to keep it off so far. The problem is that now I have two things that bug the everliving shit out of me: a ton of extra skin and saggy tits.

Instead of bitching about it forever, I got off my ass and talked to a plastic surgeon about what could possibly be done. He said I’m an excellent candidate, but the surgeries would probably come to about $17,000, which is a little bit prohibitive. I did some calculations and it would take me about 3 years to save up that amount of money.

In the meantime, however, I would really like to be getting laid, but my confidence about it is not so great because I’m afraid that dudes will turn tail when they see what I’ve got going on. Is it worth it to save up the funds to get my shit fixed or should I just say fuck it and go for the gold anyway?

Congratulations on the healthy weight loss.

You should definitely save up for the surgery. It’ll be excellent motivation to keep the weight off over the next three years, and if you start acting like it’s a foregone conclusion, it could actually help your self-confidence as you near your goal.

One thing to consider, though. Elective surgery prices are really low right now. A quote from a plastic surgeon is normally good for six months, a year at most. In three years, we’ll be on the other side of this shitty economy, and your doctor will be asking for an extra five grand for the same procedures.

Ask your guy to lock in the quote for three years. Explain that you’re saving up for the procedures. He’ll try to sell you on financing, but insist that you won’t go into debt.

Have him put the three year quote in writing. Trust me, it’s not to much to ask.

As for you confidence issues, what can I say? Start buying corsets and fuck with the lights off. Hell, every woman on the planet has body issues. Most of us still manage to get laid at our discretion.

Good luck with everything.

(Oh, and just so you know, I’ll be keeping my fingers crossed in the hopes that you find a guy who loves you for who you are, and in three years you spend the money on a trip around the world. Fuck it. Everybody loves a happy ending.)

I’ve been dating this guy for a substantial (for me at least) amount of time, but still under a year. It’s my longest relationship. We sometimes have fights, but it’s always been something I can trace back to miscommunication, until a few nights ago.

I don’t want to get into details, but  I’ll lay it out for you like this: He made a “joke” about beating me. As in smacking me. I can handle a good joke, and this wasn’t one. It was completely irrelevant and was very random. To be honest, it scared me. I didn’t say anything at first. I suppose I was shocked. Finally, just a bit later, I straight up asked why he would say such a thing. He apologized and ended up promising me he would never hurt me and how he wants me to trust him. I’m an avid believer in trusting as much as you can from the beginning before someone proves themselves to not be worthy of trust, now I’m not so sure. The feeling this incident gave me is straight up fear.

That same night, we got into a bigger fight and I told him “It’s over.” When he repeatedly asked/screamed what was over I finally said “Everything.” He began to leave in a rush, but I ran after him crying, begging him to stay, which is not something I have ever done. I felt like I lost control. I value my pride, but in that moment I knew I didn’t want him to leave. He stayed.

We are now on good terms again, but something is still sending negative signals. I’m not sure if I’m PMSing, but everything he does/says annoys the shit out of me. He has always had a sarcastic sense of humor, and sometimes I DID find it funny, but now I can’t even muster up a fake laugh. His “jokes” don’t seem clever and I just want to scream. Also, it’s come to my attention that he over thinks everything that comes out of his mouth and it seems to suck away any genuineness. I am the opposite and say what’s on my mind with little thought. (Sometimes this is a problem.)

He is a good Southern guy and doesn’t drink or have any vices… from what I know so far. Deep down I believe everyone has a big dark secret, and it sort of bothers me I haven’t found his. He APPEARS perfect and smart and has a perfect little family.

I have sort of molded myself to be what I think he wants because I admire him and want to make him happy, which would therefore make me happy. I completely cut out drinking, partly for my own health, partly because he doesn’t. (I rarely did before him though.) I have tried to cut out my cursing partly for my own sake and partly because I know he doesn’t like it. After this fight, I’m suddenly texting my best friend and making plans to snag a fake ID as if I’m rebelling.

What do you make of this situation? It makes me very sad to think that him saying ONE thing can destroy everything we have built. I was, for the most part, very happy with him.

This is all about respect. His for you, yours for him, and especially yours for yourself. Respect. It’s what he never had for you in the first place. It’s what you gave to him much too easily. It’s what you lost for yourself when you begged him to stay that night.

Respect. You deserve it, and your inner-bitch demands it. It’s the source of those negative signals. The reason he’s starting to annoy you is because you’re finally noticing the imbalance of respect in the relationship and you resent it.

There’s another problem here as well, a much bigger one in the grand scheme of things. You’re very young, still chasing down fake ID’s, and you haven’t learned the ugly lesson that molding yourself to be what you think he wants is an easy road to making your life miserable.

Don’t base your happiness on his happiness, and whatever you do, don’t change yourself for his sake. Quite frankly, if he demands that you put on a fake smile when you’d rather drop an f-bomb and have a beer, then fuck his happiness.

I’m also from the south. There’s no such thing as a good southern man without any vices. If he doesn’t drink or cuss, then he’s either a baptist half-wit or a complete asshole. Either way, life sucks if you’re his date. Plus on top of all this, now he’s making jokes about beating you? Right. At this point, you’re basically dating a cop.

I’m guessing that if you took the time to write someone like me, it means your inner-bitch is doing her best to claw her way out and tell this prick to go fuck himself. Go ahead. Do it.

Get your self-respect back. It’s worth a hell of a lot more than any man.

I think I may have the fixings for a college threesome. My gay guy friend and I are quite close, and when he introduced me to another close friend of his, who is straight, the two of us hooked up. This was about two months ago, and when I come back to their town to visit my gay friend, I could ask for a meeting with the memorable gentleman. My worry is that my gay friend will have made himself extremely vulnerable only to connect with neither of us and become a voyeur. How do I initiate this and keep all the friendships healthy? I think we’re all emotionally mature, I just want it to be non-awkward and as fun as possible.

Stop. No. Back away from this horrible idea and pretend you never had it.

Emotional maturity has nothing to do with why this will be an awkward disaster. One guy is straight and one guy is gay. It’s simple math. There is no threesome scenario where both of them have fun unless one has a major bisexual revelation right there on the spot.

You can’t expect the straight friend to suddenly want some cock, and you can’t expect the gay friend to want any of your pussy. One of these guys needs to get very comfortable with his bisexuality before this becomes a plausible idea, and that shit doesn’t happen on a whim.

about three weeks ago my GP told my mother that i do cocaine.

He got the information from my psychiatrist who i was stupid enough to tell about my usage, even though i came to him with my bipolar disorder, not a drug problem. My psychiatrist persuaded me that all the information i share with him is absolutely confidential and that my GP would never tell anyone, not even my family, even if they beg for it. The thing is my mom and my GP are a bit friendly so he felt obliged to tell her that i have a cocaine problem. Well, I don’t have a problem actually. I’ve been doing cocaine for the last two years and i do about 2-5 grams daily, but i can stop for days and weeks and yes, i do constantly think about it, but it’s not a pain in the ass. So i don’t have a fucking problem. He insisted that i am on the verge of dying and i’m in desperate need of help.

Needless to say my mom was terrified. I somehow made her believe that he is a bullshitter and i told her that yeah i tried coke once but that was it. I think she bought it, but she took me home for 2 weeks (we live in different countries) to make sure that i am not addicted – she doesn’t really know how the whole cocaine addiction thing works with me and she realized that i’m not an addict.

Anyways, she told me that i’m not going out anymore. No clubs, no bars, no pubs. She is going to cut off my money supply to a minimum and etc. I know that time heals everything and that in 6 months she won’t even remember this (or fuck knows actually. she might). I have no intention of stopping doing cocaine. (I’m not going to get into this but I’m a deeply unhappy person and all medication i tried doesn’t work, so I self-medicate this way. It helps. A little.)

What i am most afraid of now is that my mom would need to see our GP at some point and he might start his bullshit again. He might tell her the extent of my usage, showing the notes from my psychiatrist. I am paranoid and terrified. I get panic attacks all the time from this.

I want to sue the living fuck out of this GP piece of shit, but i don’t earn enough money yet to pay a lawyer and if i sue him my mother would definitely know that i’m a full-blown user.

What should i do? I know i sound pathetic. I know i do, but need to get some advice from someone besides my few friends. Also, excuse my English. I’m not a native speaker.

Thank you.

Alexandra / 20 y.o. / London

The first time I glanced through this I got super pissed at your doctors. I was totally on your side, and felt what they did was a violation of doctor-patient confidentiality.

Then I read it again. Two to five grams daily? What the fuck, Alexandra?

I do blow all the time. I’m pro-drugs and anti-authority. I’m a completely detached third party listening to your side of the story who is neither a friend nor family member. I’m shooting you straight and I know what I’m talking about.

Please believe me when I tell you this. You have a cocaine problem.

You do drugs for all the wrong reasons and it’s time to stop. You’re not having a little fun on the weekends. You’re self-medicating major psychological issues with a toxic amount of cocaine. Shit’s gonna kill you, babe.

You’re obviously intelligent, and if you can casually hide a thousand dollar a week habit, you also must come from money. We all know where this leads. You’re the one who gets an awkward high-church funeral with a lot of people whispering things like, “what a waste.”

Problem is, your family is old guard. They don’t have a fucking clue how to deal with you. Odds are, whatever they try to do will just fuck you up even more.

I’ve seen your kind before. Within a month after mommy turns off the money faucet, you’ll find yourself in a back room rationalizing the sexual favors you’re performing for the lines on the countertop. Somehow, you’ll convince yourself that you’re actually punishing your mother by degrading yourself.

The only way to avoid circling the drain for the next eighteen months is by doing some drastic shit now. It’s time for you to check into rehab. No joke, twenty-eight days, in-patient rehab.

This isn’t so much about the blow. I know. You can quit for weeks. Whatever. This is about a cycle of self-medication that is annihilating you. You need more help than you’re currently getting.

You’ve already been diagnosed bipolar, and no doubt that’s just the tip of your iceberg of crazy. The shrink you’ve got can’t handle you, so it’s time for a new level of treatment.

Please, go big. Make a major change.

Best of luck.

My boyfriend of ~ 2 years told me he couldn’t marry me and we broke up. But now he still wants to talk to me everyday and still stop by my house. I know too that we were not a right match, but part of me just wants to cut him off so he understands what he is missing. Petty?

Not petty. Necessary.

He doesn’t get to break up with you and still creep around at his convenience. Fuck that. Tell him to lose your number and forget where you live.

This isn’t about him understanding what he’s missing. Don’t make it about him. This is about you moving on and enjoying whatever’s coming next.