The years you remember only through photos.
Most of us don’t remember our very first birthdays, and even though our family may have marked those events with a significant birthday bash and the photos are a testament to the wonderful time we had catching bubbles and licking our birthday cake and opening gifts, we rely on photos to remind us just how much fun it was. After that, most birthdays tend to blend in with each other, unless you’re Jewish and then you have a Bat or Bar Mitzvah to mark a birthday, which in the Jewish tradition is considered a rite of passage. After that, we tend to remember the significant birthdays that symbolize a milestone in our lives such as our 20th birthday, 30th, 40th and so forth. Notice that I purposefully ignored the Sweet 16 and 18th Birthdays and the reason is that I never had a Sweet 16, because growing up in Israel it was not a custom that we followed. Although birthday number 18 is definitely a milestone, again, when you’re about to start your two-year obligatory military service, freedom and emancipation have to take a back seat for a while and this gives the celebration a whole new meaning.
Somber beginning to my 30s.
When I turned 30, it was a somber time in my life and a very cheerless birthday. I was served with divorce papers only a few days earlier—what timing. This was the end of my innocence, a harsh lesson in human nature and I felt disillusioned by life in general. But during my 30s I also began to heal from my divorce, and symbolically speaking it was almost as though I was trying to shed off old skin because I wanted to have nothing to do with the old Ilana and that included ditching my legal career. It was a bold decision and one that changed the course of my life forever. But I don’t think it would have happened had I not received a formal letter from NBC’s sensor who read a spec script that I wrote for one of the top shows at the time: Seinfeld. In the letter (I still have it), I was told to pack my bags and move to LA .
Once I moved, the show was cancelled and nobody bothered to answer my calls any longer. However, that was not enough of a wakeup call and it took me another twenty years to realize how things really work in Hollywood as well as in the literary world. One has to be recommended by someone in the industry in order for a literary agent to even consider reading their work . . . the rest is history, albeit I continued to work hard and create a body of work, which included The Original Insult Company featuring 210 insult and passion cards, and I was known as the Queen of Insults or the Queen of Passion—I would actually get phone calls asking to speak with the Queen of Passion. I worked together with my sister Sharon and those years represented a stimulating and harmonious time in my life. This project garnered me regular radio appearances across the country and even an appearance on the Howard Stern Show. I also created The Venetians—a beach talk show that I wrote and hosted; Playfilm.org was a collection of different shows that I wrote and directed, and it even included The Dr. Leon Show about advances in medicine. All this was much before YouTube, and I was definitely ahead of my time.
Just Maya and me.
So I managed a few moments of success, even a face-to-face with executives at Paramount in order to discuss my show Youthtruth, and in a very mysterious manner they decided to shelf the idea, but then it came out in the same format as a whole new show altogether and I was not included. The thing is that it would have been totally different had someone actually represented me during those years, and my experiences would have probably been more positive than negative. However, these experiences kept me focused on the prize even though I remained on the periphery of the entertainment world. I thought that since I had a law degree, someone would see the value in hiring me and giving me a chance. Uh-uh, no way, even though I was pursued by a few people who would have helped me with my career, but sleeping with them did not appeal to me so much. I don’t have room to begin mentioning all the screenplays and stories and school plays that I wrote and directed during my 30s but phew—I had accomplished so much.
The highlight of my 30s was meeting Greg.
A highlight from my 30s was meeting Greg on Jdate, and when realizing the random nature of our finding each other, it makes it all the more spectacular. He has been the one and only man to love me just the way I am. He supports me in every way and loves my writing and always helps with all the complicated technical issues that arise from being an independent writer. He even cooks breakfast every Sunday and serves it to me in bed. Okay, it’s only egg on toast and he’s never tried anything new, but the way that yolk oozes on my piece of toast is absolutely perfect–and with his expert sprinkling of salt and pepper, and toasting the bread to my liking, this egg dish is quite delectable.
Celebrating my 40th birthday.
When I turned 40, I don’t think that I spent too much time thinking about it; however, I remember the day quiet vividly because I was one month shy of giving birth to Jack. The way I chose to celebrate it says a lot about my mind frame at the time; I asked to go to the Wynn Buffet, where Sharon joined us and we sat and ate for three whole hours. We took our time eating—it’s easy when one trip meant a lonely slice of tomato with perhaps one small dollop of chocolate pudding on the side. But we had so much fun talking and eating and eating and talking that it was one of the nicer birthdays I’ve had. My 40s were also very productive years, and I think that I suffered from fatigue for the most part because Jack was not an easy baby. It was also the first time that I realized that I had aged. I remember how I felt when I woke up one morning to the sight of bags under my eyes—I was horrified. I also realized that no amount of makeup can make you look as good as before, and that no matter how you dress and how you do your hair, you just don’t look as fresh and young as in your 30s.
So tired during the early years of Jack.
It was definitely a transition. I used this time to continue to create; I wrote and directed a play that appeared at The Arts Factory and I self-published all of my books. I decided that I had absolutely no patience for rejection, and there was no reason to ever have to deal with naysayers or people who ignore me. I also learned to age with grace and accept all the physical changes wholeheartedly. I also started writing about aging, and one of my biggest pleasures is knowing how I’ve managed to help so many other women at a time that some may consider scary and unfair.
As the time neared my 50th birthday I became very retrospective and very unsure about how I felt. It’s a huge milestone—you’ve lived for half a century after all. You suddenly realize that you’re much closer to death than to your birth, and I couldn’t shake out of my head the idea that when Jack celebrates his 50th I will be 90. In my mind it was an unwelcomed number, so mostly it was going to be a negative transition. And all this, even though I had spent ten years writing about embracing one’s age and aging with grace. To be fair, my negative thoughts had nothing to do with my physical appearance and more to do with what I had managed to accomplish in 50 years. I didn’t reach my goals at all, and those included getting some sort of recognition from industry professionals. I wanted to be represented by an agent and see one of my screenplays on the Golden Screen. I wanted to walk into a theater in order to experience the reaction of an audience to something that I had written. I wanted to be picked up by a traditional publisher so that my work would reach a larger audience—none of which happened.
I felt mentally worn out, and I was consumed with regret. I began to second-guess everything that I had done. I was afraid that I had wasted my time and I panicked. I also tried to imagine my life as an attorney and all those what-ifs bombarded me day and night. There was very little sleep during these last few months.
Always dedicated to my kids.
When I shared my thoughts with Greg, he looked at me as though I had turned mad. He reminded me of my commitment to my children and everything that I had instilled in them in order to make them happy, clever and talented individuals. And so many times women, especially, tend to overlook the important role they’ve had in their children’s lives. But I needed to know about my professional life, was I a failure or a success? And how does one measure success anyhow? I asked. Is it all about income or recognition, what the hell determines success? Greg told me that success is measured by the value that I’ve created in other people’s lives. And I think that for the first time this was an answer that resonated with me. I felt a sense of relief actually.
Also during this time, I received a beautiful letter from my uncle Ami whereby he explained the significance of every age according to the Jewish tradition. Apparently, once reaching 50, you usher in the age of wisdom and as such you can now rest a little and enjoy your new role of advisor. At this stage one has already experienced it all: there is more understanding, knowledge, emotional maturity, family and a deeper understanding of man’s soul.
This makes a whole lot of sense doesn’t it? I think that my 50th birthday will be a reason to celebrate, and it’s also a reason for my parents to celebrate. It’s definitely solidified a few thoughts; it’s forced me to take a long breath and take stock of it all. I know what’s important and I have a better sense of who I am and what I want to do with the rest of my life, but most importantly I know how I want to live the rest of my life. I cherish my family and my friendships, some of which have carried on since my childhood years in Israel and have overcome such great distances. I realize that success is not measured by one’s career and only by the quality of life that you have led, and this further translates into so many different things.
And it’s all because of these two.
When the clock strikes 12:00 a.m., I realize that there will be no significant change, I will still look the same, but I believe that something magical will happen as I have spent a lot of time pondering questions surrounding my life. I think that when I wake up tomorrow morning I will want to celebrate and make more memories with the people who matter to me the most, and I will continue to create because it’s part of my identity. I believe that as long as I feel good about myself, getting older won’t matter as much especially because most of the angst is in our own head anyway. Turning 50 is not the end of the world.
It’s interesting to read old poetry and learn about the prevailing attitudes towards youth and beauty through this art form. We’re all familiar with paintings by the Masters that depict full-figured women as their objects of beauty, so in a way, it’s strange that when reading old poetry the notion of acceptance that you might assume as commonplace years ago, isn’t generally reinforced by most of the old poets. Wider hips and a protruding belly were considered beautiful enough to be immortalized in paintings, but a woman’s age remained an essential component of her desirability and usefulness. In those poems time is the enemy of beauty and love.
In Robert Herrick’s 1648 poem titled “To the Virgins to Make Much Out of Time,” the theme is about making the most out of life and seizing the day; although, I can also see a little more to the poem’s initial positive stance. Taking into account the era and women’s inferior standing in society, I can’t help but think that Herrick remains steadfast to preconceived notions of beauty and aging. In this poem he emphasizes the need to act fast before the passage of time, “Gather ye rosebuds, while ye may”—a nagging reminder of a woman’s precarious position with respect to time that we never see when mentioning men. “And this same flower that smiles to-day To-morrow will be dying”—this personification cuts straight to the point, and it emphasizes the fleeting nature of a woman’s beauty. If that were not enough reinforcement of the obvious, he goes on to say “That age is best which is the first When youth and blood are warmer“—a woman should take advantage of her youth and virginity if she ever wants to marry. And today, what’s different really? I remember the days when I was single and my own grandmother would say pretty much the same things to me, that I don’t have much time left. Of course I’d take it with a grain of salt, after all, she had married young and her own mother had married at age eight! Sure, these days people marry at an older age, and have kids in their forties, but when it comes to work and career those archaic notions of age, as a determining factor to one’s success, still hold true today, especially for women.
Those of you who’ve read my novel The Diary of a Wrinkle may remember the Shakespeare quote in one of the opening pages of my book:
“To me, fair friend, you never can be old, For as you were when first your eye I eyed, Such seems your beauty still.”
In other words, in Sonnet 104 Shakespeare is saying that as far as he’s concerned his friend will never age; in his eyes he will always look just as beautiful as the day they met for the first time. Indeed a very powerful message. He goes on to describe the transience of time but his love interest remains as green as before, “Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turned, In process of the seasons have I seen; Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burned, Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green.” Green coveys renewal and rebirth, youthfulness—the type of positive outlook we’d love to hear more often, I’m sure. We all want to be viewed as beautiful and relevant, regardless of age.
Shakespeare employed ambiguity in his writing, and he loved to tease his readers about his love interest’s identity. There is so much speculation about these sonnets and the identity of a young man he often addresses, or the true identity of a mistress whom scholars have called the Dark Lady, because he describes her with dark features and a dark nature. It’s widely believed that his love interest in Sonnet 104 is none other than a man, and in that case it’s just as interesting to see whether his generous ideas on beauty and aging differed with respect to women.
In Sonnet 18 we delight in his use of the sun as a metaphor to describe his beloved’s beauty, but the sun doesn’t quite compare to that beauty either as his love’s beauty is “more lovely and more temperate.” Shakespeare is concerned with the idea of fading beauty and he continues to distinguish between the unstable nature of the sun and his love’s beauty; it can be too hot, too dim, the season doesn’t always last very long, whereas his love’s beauty will never fade. But in the final quatrain Shakespeare is determined to make this beauty last forever, in a way he concedes to inevitable aging because he tells us that only the written word could survive the passage of time. But he uses this to his advantage by promising to immortalize his love’s beauty through the eternal power of his words. “When in eternal lines to time thou growest: So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this and this gives life to thee.”
Shakespeare was talented and prolific but he also suffered from a healthy dose of prejudice towards women, which was pretty commonplace among the white male population during the Elizabethan era. Ironically, this was the case even when Queen Elizabeth was known as a talented linguist, with impressive fluency in several languages. For most women, only very basic education constituted the breadth of their knowledge and while the privileged may have furthered their education more—adding to their overall charm and appeal—though heavier emphasis was on home economics as there were no career opportunities for women once schooling was over.
Disparity in the treatment of women is further expressed in Sonnet 20. Here, the object of Shakespeare’s affection has natural beauty, as opposed to made-up and unnatural beauty. His love interest has the grace and features of a woman but is devoid of guile and pretense, and this too is a generalized idea of female characteristics and so is the idea that all women suffer from mood swings and empty, false flirtation.
To be fair, for proper insight on Shakespeare’s ideas of love and beauty, one must look at his entire body of work, which is impossible to do in one post but with the few sonnets I’ve mentioned we are still able to get a general feel for aging and beauty in Elizabethan times. However, if I’ve learned anything of value from Shakespeare’s writing, it’s that he can’t help but humanize even the most vile and hated characters and he’s employed this type of empathy when describing his female characters as well. In The Merchant of Venice, there’s no doubt that Shylock is portrayed in the same racist light the rest of society had viewed Jews, but then Shylock says: “I am a Jew, Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions; fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer as a Christian is?” He’s giving the audience a chance to empathize with Shylock, with a Jew. Some scholars believe that his mistress, the Dark Lady, was really Emilia Bassano Lanier and she was the illegitimate daughter of a Jewish, Italian musician from Venice named Baptista Bassanoa. In the play, one of the characters is named Bassanio, and Shylock is definitely portrayed with a little bit of humanity.
We can find the same sentiment in Sonnet 130, which is a parody of the ridiculous standards attached to women generally or the clichéd way that other poets describe their beauty. “If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun.” “And in some perfumes is there more delight Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.” He then qualifies all of those disparaging remarks with “And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare As any she belied with false compare.” Shakespeare’s mocking of other poets is interesting to me, it means that despite the prevailing views about women and beauty, despite the many literary devices he used to portray negative images of women in some of his works, conversely he was also sensitive to the majority view of beauty and felt the need to express otherwise. His wife, Anne Hathaway, was eight years older than him but I am not entirely sure that this had any impact on his ideas of age and beauty because all we have is a lot of speculation about the state of his marriage. He also left his marital home and spent the majority of is life in London. I think that what it comes down to is a type of hubris, and his ability to argue conventional ideas in the most literary means possible.
And you see this further in Sonnet 95 when he demonstrates a balance of sorts because as he describes his love’s beauty, it’s not devoid of a realistic observation as well. He compares the young man’s behavior to a rotten spot on an otherwise beautiful flower. In other words, the young man’s beauty will allow him to get away with bad behavior, but bad behavior will also distort his beauty. There is a moral question he addresses in this sonnet, it’ one of personal and moral responsibilities and those will determine one’s visage at the end of the day.
Centuries later, we find that the very same ideas about beauty have remained intact. And we see it now, more than ever, the notion that youth is the one and only answer to achieving success, whether in the workforce for a better job and career, or with respect to our ability to find love, or a “good catch.” If that were not the case then we wouldn’t be bombarded with so many treatment options for enhancing our youthful appearance, it wouldn’t be necessary for a female news anchor to fill her face with Botox and fillers in order to secure a prime time position in front of the camera. Why can a male newscaster sport grey/white hair and still be regarded as a top notch journalist or anchor? Anderson Cooper’s hair color has never been a deterrent for employers or viewers, he’s been able to hold on to his position on CNN for years but where have we seen a grey-haired female journalist or anchor before? I haven’t.
Of course I can see the appeal in young and flawless, and when I’m watching one of those pretty women on TV, after the initial reaction of “wow she’s pretty,” I become more focused on the content rather than how beautiful and flawless her skin is. On occasion, when I’ve watched Barbara Walters on one of her specials, I’ve never been concerned with her age, albeit she’s had a few procedures done, it’s obvious, and her older looks would never be the reason for which I’d switch to a different channel either. Similarly, Joan Rivers never fooled anyone with her artificially enhanced younger looks, she talked about it openly and with much humor, but the point is, she still looked like an old woman who had altered her looks, so I never really understood her need to keep pulling and stretching her skin.
I liked her for her humor and bluntness anyway, and for anyone who remembers what she looked like before she started to alter her looks, well, it just doesn’t make any sense. Unless she too was influenced by the domineering male presence in her field of work where there was stiff competition, including a few lots battles, maybe that’s what drove her to the plastic surgeons table.
I’m not a critic of all the Joan Rivers of this world, but I’m definitely carving out a different path for anyone who’d like to join me and feel that it’s okay to show age; it’s okay to have wrinkles or grey hair and still feel confident and beautiful. And it’s okay to demand that first-class job. Let’s read old poetry in the context in which it belongs, in a time long gone where women barely had a voice. So much has changed since then, and change is a good thing most times, it shows progress and the acceptance of new ideas.
My hope is that this generation’s idea of beauty will be a brief phase at best and that less emphasis will be placed on one’s looks and that a varied interpretation of beauty will open doors for so many women who would otherwise be ignored and missed. Join my Wrinkle Revolution will ya.
You mean, this is not attractive? (Daily Mail image)
Recently, I viewed photos of Jennifer Lopez performing at the iHeartRadio Fiesta Latina in Miami, Florida, and as usual, the public’s comments didn’t disappoint. Someone wrote that “she should retire her fat ass and legs from the stage already.” The quality of her voice and ability to command the stage, with her notorious dance moves, were not a factor worth mentioning in any of the comments I read, either. Yep, everything revolved around her surprising weight gain.
A fuller body outweighed her singing talent (Getty images)
Immediately, I set out to research why this would be the case and I came across an interesting study, which suggested that certain aspects of the female body may be attractive because they signal “evolutionary fitness.” Confusing? I will eventually explain. While delving into the scientists’ findings and mulling over this topic hours later, I recalled the days that “Barbie Ass” was the nickname that one of my friends had attached to my derriere. Honestly, I hadn’t thought about it for years, decades really. In those days, the size of my ass was a non-issue; it was so small and firm that it fit beautifully into every single pair of pants, skirt, or dress that I wanted to wear. Seldom did I even bother to turn around for that extra, studious glance in the mirror, the one that would help determine whether the pants stayed on or whether I would need to look for something a bit more flattering—something to make my ass look small, perky, and round. At least that was my idea of a perfect behind, but the nickname attached to my ass also helped strengthen the notion that I knew what I was talking about, and the need to memorialize that “perfect” ass with a photo did not occur to me either.
The skinny me years
During my student years in Buffalo, NY, I used to model underwear for a local department store and my photos would appear in the local newspaper on a weekly basis, clad with nothing but a bra and panties (my mother has those photos somewhere in her attic). I remember the carefree, confident feeling I had when the makeup people would powder my body, including my nether regions and there was no concern or shame, because I felt that every single part of me was the right size and in the right place. But that was in my 20s, and these days, even though I do not consider myself obsessed with my looks, I must admit that almost 30 years later and 10 pounds heavier, my youthful confidence is a thing of the past and I too find myself taking a good look at what I look like from behind before deciding whether or not to wear certain clothes. This of course begs the question of why we perceive certain aspects of our body as attractive, and why we care so much about how big our ass is or how much we weigh? Is this something that is hard wired into women’s brains or is this the influence of the skinny-obsessed media and its idea of beauty? Or is this a preference that men communicate to us because it’s actually hard wired into their brains—poor souls—even if they don’t mean to be less attracted to heavier women or certain body types, it’s all nature’s fault in the end.
During my 30s I would not have survived famine
In some of my older posts I had quoted Desmond Morris and his findings on the influence of evolution and the shape of the human body, which have everything to do with attracting the opposite sex and the survival of one’s genes. This time I relied on a study conducted by the University of Aberdeen in collaboration with the Chinese Academy of Sciences in Beijing, which determined that “evolutionary fitness” is the key to explaining what types of women men find appealing. Researchers wanted to figure out what role does body weight have in physical attractiveness, and in order to find out they used culture-specific data and tested it across the range of different cultures, using a common protocol. However, this particular topic of weight and attractiveness is not so simple to understand and there were quite a few parameters that were excluded from the research that would have probably affected the results to some degree (see https://peerj.com/articles/1155/). Most surprising is that their new data comes in complete contrast to earlier studies, which suggested that men were naturally attracted to heavier women since, in evolutionary terms, extra fat meant better chances of survival during famine.
In their new study, fitness was divided into two elements: survival and fertility. The mathematical model that the scientists created for this study predicted that people would view as most attractive women with BMI (body mass index) of between 24 and 24.8. Then they tested their predictions on 1300 test subjects from different countries around the world (Europe, Africa, Asia). They were all shown images of women with varying BMI and WHR (waist to hip ratio), facial features were not included. The results showed that beauty preferences were pretty universal, and that people actually preferred thinner women with a BMI of 19 as opposed to their earlier predictions. Waist hip ratio was not included as an indicator of attractiveness because in the past it’s been associated with cognitive abilities and not health. The new data concluded that the ideal female body preferred by most males and females was tall and skinny, with a small waist; long, slender limbs; small bottom, and smaller breasts believe it or not.
When the test subjects were asked to guess the ages of the women in question, the heavier women were perceived to be much older than the skinnier ones. So now age had become a strong indicator in evolutionary fitness. The researchers then included the age into their calculations and, voila, the BMI corresponded exactly to the images that people had already found most attractive.
In short, most of the people in this study preferred Taylor Swift type bodies to the more hourglass shape of the Kim Kardashian types. The results proved that nowadays attractiveness of women is equated to their youth. Subconsciously, this means maximal fertility and minimal risk of disease. Again, these findings were in complete contrast to our evolutionary history and genetic disposition for gaining weight since we were exposed to famine quite often, which made body fat an attractive trait when fat equated survival.
Elongated Peruvian skulls, just another beauty practice
D’ya get it now? The public has a preference for the skinniest of the lot and it’s become somewhat of a universal trend albeit some cultures have a preference for extra weight on the bones for a few different reasons actually. But since western beauty ideals have permeated the globe, the idea of attractiveness has become a bit more uniform. I see this as another cornerstone in our evolutionary path really; tastes have continuously evolved and changed over the centuries. Ancient civilizations would engage in the most extreme beauty practices, e.g., 8000 years ago Peruvian parents would alter the shape of their newborn’s skull by binding it for 6 months; once upon a time the greatest European artists would paint subjects with belly fat and wide hips and a large bum. That represented beauty in their eyes since evolutionary fitness back then determined that fat represented survival and fertility. In the West, famine no longer plays a pivotal part in our lives, things have changed so drastically, and with the advent of plastic surgery and a new beauty ideal that is led by the entertainment and modeling worlds, as well as the cosmetics-crazy multi-industry conglomerates that promote the idea of youth and erasing the years from ones face and body, we are left to ponder whether we have been affected by them, or whether they are merely reflecting our changing tastes in beauty.
No ass photo per se, just don’t have any, but still weighing more
Hmmm, am I average or beautiful?
A few weeks ago I watched the very controversial “Choose Beautiful” video, which was the new installment of Dove’s original campaign called “Campaign for Real Beauty,” first launched in 2004 and meant to empower women and boost their self-esteem. The first campaign came about as a result of a study titled, “The Truth About Beauty,” which was conducted by Dove with the input of world renowned academics. Their goal was to explore the notion of beauty in women today, and what they found was that a mere 4% of women from around the world considered themselves beautiful, and at least 75% of women would have preferred to see diversity in the images of beauty, which are broadcast daily through film and all other forms of media. So this, in fact, was the genesis of the campaign that began to introduce images of women who did not fit the bill of a traditional beauty, because they had gray hair or a flat chest etc., but nevertheless, for the first time they were given the platform that was usually reserved for “traditional” beauties. Read More
From my Insult Card collection
Before I get a load of criticism for my eye-catching title, allow me to explain. First of all, it’s not such an original title when the likes of Shakespeare had used a similar metaphor in “The Tempest”:
“What have we here? A man or a fish? Dead or alive? A fish: he smells like a fish; a very ancient and fish-like smell . . . a strange fish!”
Let’s be honest about this: everybody sweats and therefore unpleasant odors are a fact of life, and some of us smell more than others. I admit that smelly people have also been a good subject matter for my Insult Card line, but let’s keep our sense of humor in check here, and not become overly sensitive please. I don’t adhere to politically correct writing. Read More
A typical spider web-like tattoo.
The only glimpse I’ve ever had of life in Myanmar (formerly Burma), has been through Anthony Bordain’s gastronomical adventures around the world, and the random National Geographic article about this country. But as an avid reader with a yen for learning as much as I can about different cultures and customs from around the world—specifically as they relate to women—of course I could not resist to learn more about the last tattooed women of Myanmar. Read More
The woman who never smiles.
I thought that I had created a fictional character with Poker Face Polly when I wrote The Diary of a Wrinkle, until I came across a little blurb about a real person who has not smiled in 40 years in order to avoid lines on her face. I promise you that I have not made this up. Read More
My granny Gertrude was not afraid of death, in fact, the more she learned about the sciences, the more at peace she became with her own eventual demise.
It’s true, especially if you go up the street to one of the supermarkets located near one of our senior retirement communities and you can’t help but notice the frowning, bitter looking elderly people who seem to bark out orders at the sales associates or anyone else crossing their path. They have no qualms about ordering people around or making the most ridiculous demands as though their age, or time on earth, has earned them the right to forget about simple rules of conduct in society. Manners don’t apply to them anymore and becoming self-absorbed defines them completely. Sadly, negative behavior always seems to draw our attention, and it’s what we remember most times, but it would be a lie to say that we have not noticed the same segment of society, namely the elderly, who actually smile—too much. Read More
HOA imposed suburban monotony—should we let their rules define us as a society?
This is a good one, in fact excellent; it has all the makings of a real live television soap opera, minus the sex: there’s toxic material, angry accusations, opposition, denial, rejection, and battery. We’ve all had issues with our HOAs, it’s a fact, but the question that I’d like you to bear in mind as you read about my recent interactions with Terra West, is whether petty rules and regulations that we’re forced to adherer to by HOAs have come to define us as a society? Not the usual type of material that I choose to write about on this blog, but I think that it’s a subject matter that many of you will empathize with and also agree that it can easily cause a wrinkle or two. Read More
The extra nipple
Recently, I noticed a dark spot on my chest; I didn’t like the way it looked so I showed it to my husband for further inspection. He looked and touched, then gave me his educated guess that in his opinion it was nothing more than an extra nipple that I had suddenly developed on my chest. Joking aside, I decided to make an appointment with a dermatologist for further investigation, and this is how my decline into the dark foray of age-delaying treatment began all over again. Read More