In front of us, piled on a highly glossed wooden table, was an assortment of keys, lipsticks, mascaras, and hand creams. There was one tube of foot cream, two bottles of Advil, one bottle of Excedrin, and assorted prescription drugs. There were tea bags, nail files, perfume, hair brushes, make up, one extra large bobby pin, a dozen hair elastics, pens, and several bottles of hand lotion.
At 50-something, my hair still seems to be the bane of my existence, and I know I am not alone. Hair seems is big topic of conversation amongst women of all races, ethnicity, and age. But at midlife, there is a big part of me that wants to look in the mirror and say to my hair, 'enough about you already!'
A really good friend of mine, a well-respected lawyer, in his late fifties, was late for his daughter's swim meet. Tense and a little bit lost, he realized he was heading in the wrong direction, so he pulled into a parking lot to turn the car around. As he drove out into traffic, he cut off another driver.
I think I have a problem with my husband. He is health conscious and fit and he has will power. Wouldn't that be enough to make you nuts when you don't? I am addicted to ice cream, chocolate and jelly beans. He can pass up dessert and skip dinner. With shoulder surgery this winter, he has been particularly conscientious about what he puts in his mouth.
I was getting dressed in the locker room at my gym last week when I overheard a conversation between two ladies about the tough cardio class we had all just barely survived. One lady was in her bra and panties, the other naked, but for a towel. I looked over at them, about to commiserate on the ass-kicking, when I realized the woman in the towel looked familiar.
Yes, I agree, talk about health is key, as is a focus away from body image and on being a good person. But the fact is, we really don't want our children to be fat -- not only because it is unhealthy, but because in our uber competitive world, a fat person is less likely to be hired, or to be asked on a date -- and yes, all of that matters. Unfortunately, what's outside matters too.
I blame this post on Richard Nixon. When I was in middle school, we learned that the Nixon administration had created an 'enemies list' -- a list of political opponents, used for the official purpose of 'screwing' Nixon's personal and political foes -- actors, government officials, journalists, academics and other citizens.
One morning, still a bit groggy from a sleeping pill-induced six hours of sleep, I was enjoying my first cup of coffee while reading my emails on my iPhone. I was surprised to see that Mike was sleeping in a spare bedroom, and that I had received an email from him, sent the previous evening, at 11:37 PM, about an hour after we had gone to bed.
Picture this: I'm at a holiday party at a beautiful home. The art adorning the walls is beautiful, the food healthy and delicious, the wines exquisite. I sip my wine, and am introduced to someone I have not met before. This guy is a player -- smart, wealthy and successful. But he doesn't talk to me; he talks at me. He pontificates.
When my kids were little, we were lucky enough to have nannies to help care for our children. When Annie was a baby and I went back to work, we hired Sandy, a heavy-set Italian woman who spent hours strolling Annie around Boston's North End. Later, when we moved to the suburbs, there was Monica, then Anna from Iowa, then Olga, then Andrea. Our last nanny was Beth. Unfortunately, Beth turned out to be a kleptomaniac. After Beth, we were done with nannies.