Archive for the ‘Humor’ Category

What Happens If Your Mother (Not Your Favorite Reality Star) Has Plastic Surgery?

Saturday, February 6th, 2010

Delia Ephron

Delia Ephron

Screenwriter, Playwright, Author

Posted: February 3, 2010 01:13 PM in HuffingtonPost.com

I haven’t been watching many reality shows lately because of the crying. There is simply too much of it. Last season on Project Runway, Christopher cried because he was sure that he was the only person in the world who would design a dress inspired by a rock (something I am sure he is wrong about). I have no idea how much crying there is on The Hills, since I was never a fan, but it did catch my attention in People magazine that Heidi Montag, star of the show, cried after she had ten plastic surgery procedures in one day. Heidi, I know from a quick Google search, is 23, although since her plastic surgery she looks 33. Which is actually something to cry about.

I have been interested in and done research on this subject spun slightly different: What happens if your mother (not your favorite reality star) has plastic surgery? This is the subject of my new novel for teenagers, The Girl with the Mermaid Hair.

If, as a teenager, you spend hours in front of a mirror deciding, say, whether one nostril is larger than the other or worrying whether your breasts point in different directions (typical teenage obsessing), do you outgrow this madness or make more radical choices if your mother comes home with larger lips, a smaller ass, a new chin, a different nose, bigger breasts? How do you feel if your mom suddenly doesn’t have any expression in her face? Or if you look into your mother’s eyes and no one is home?

Your main job as a teenager is to learn to love yourself. How can you do this if your mother hates herself?

In my research, what was so startling was how aware all the teenage girls were of their mother’s fear, or, more accurately, their hatred, of aging. One girl said, “Every time I wrinkle my forehead, my mother points it out and tells me not to. Even if I’m in the middle of a really important conversation.” Another spoke about “competitive dieting” with her mom, how she couldn’t help but engage in it even though she thought her mother’s obsession with fat was “crazy.” There is a study out this week from the Girl Scouts of the USA telling us what we already know, which is that the fashion industry and its use of ultra-thin models is making teenage girls too obsessed with being skinny, and distorting their body image. In my more limited unscientific research, the mothers are as strong an influence. Going on shopping trips with mom, usually a bonding experience, became all about hearing moms moan about their fat and rolls. Or seeing your mother trying on something, look in the mirror and say, “”I look ugly.”

I have vivid memories of my own adolescence when the main purpose of shop windows was not to see the clothes in them but my own reflection, when hours could be spent in front of a mirror deciding if my eyebrows matched. Emotionally, teen life is no different today, but now you can act on your own insecurities. You can fix them.

A lot of healthy acting out occurs in the mirror, as my research showed. Singing and dancing and even telling off people who hurt your feelings or trying on new identities. But there was also a lot of obsessing about body image. One girl got dressed using four mirrors, running from one to the next: one had good indoor lighting, one was a “skinny” mirror, one had natural light, one she could get the closest to. “If something is wrong with you,” a teenage girl said, “the mirror magnifies it.” Another said, “If I think something’s wrong with me, like my thighs are too fat, when I look in the mirror that’s all I see.”

God knows, I am not advocating growing old naturally, just to remember what a tender fragile time adolescence is. In my research, one teenage girl confided, “Seeing my mother after her surgery scared me to death.” We need our moms to be stable and secure. I have so many friends who will tell me with surprise, when looking at photos of themselves when they were younger, “Hey, I was really cute. I didn’t realize it.” No one does. You have to get older to realize it. Imagine if you got older and realized that you’d destroyed your younger self. You had operated it away.

Now that’s something to cry about.
Books & More From Delia Ephron
Frannie in Pieces (Laura Geringer B…
The Girl with the Mermaid Hair

Litter games, trash talk

Monday, September 8th, 2008

I like to play games with myself while I’m doing other things. For example, while I’m walking Zippy, holding the leash (and the recyclable plastic bag) in one hand, I gather litter with the other. Not just any litter, of course. I have rules: nobody else’s um, dog-poo-bag, no used tissue (icky germs). Other than that, it’s just what I can pick up and carry with my one free hand. Of course there are the challenges of arranging the items to fit the most possible, etc. The goal is to gather as much as possible, or totally clean up my path, whichever comes first. I actually have fun doing this. Perhaps it indicates my need ‘to get a life,’ but as far as fun goes, I’ll take it wherever I can get it.

Another trash game I have has become a ritual. It’s when I’m on the golf course. When I see a little piece of litter (again, NOT including used tissue) I pick it up and stuff it into my golf bag. Here’s the good part: that one teeny act insures that my next shot will be a good one!! It’s the karma effect. I mean, one gum wrapper is not going to turn me into an Anna (Sorenstam), but if I’m on the karmic line between making a great shot or a poor one— having just done a good golf deed makes a big difference.

bodservations of an aging woman

Monday, March 24th, 2008

This morning, while doing my first stretch class in a long while (years), I got some funny, unexpected extras.

For example, as I stood, legs straight and stretched apart, arms up toward the sky, then  turned to the side and stretched down toward my foot i felt the loose skin (where did THAT come from, and WHEN?) on my arms and face cascade down with me. (Isn’t that freaking lovely?)
Then, I was on my back with legs straight and extended up to the sky (really- this class was outside!), lifted up and back over my head so I was face to face with the tops of my thighs. The skin was hanging down (just a bit), and the texture was kind of like the outside of an orange rind. ‘Connective tissue’ has never been my strong suit.  Reeeeeally pretty. Lovely, again!

My son says how fat I am and grabs a handful of my middle. I explain to him that it’s skin he’s holding, not fat.  (Heck, I’m 5 foot 9  and only weight 133lbs. Even I know that’s not exactly fat. )He tries to process the information. He’s eleven.

On the other hand, I am healthy, as far as I know. I so enjoy my daily run, even with jiggling body parts. Everything works, well.

And, as I said in the beginning, all this body shifting adds up to free entertainment, among other things.  And, the entertainment is always there for the enjoying.

Lucky me!

He’s Happier, She’s Less So

Wednesday, September 26th, 2007

The New York Times

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September 26, 2007

Economic Scene

Last year, a team of researchers added a novel twist to something known as a time-use survey. Instead of simply asking people what they had done over the course of their day, as pollsters have been doing since the 1960s, the researchers also asked how people felt during each activity. Were they happy? Interested? Tired? Stressed?

Not surprisingly, men and women often gave similar answers about what they liked to do (hanging out with friends) and didn’t like (paying bills). But there were also a number of activities that produced very different reactions from the two sexes — and one of them really stands out: Men apparently enjoy being with their parents, while women find time with their mom and dad to be slightly less pleasant than doing laundry.

Alan Krueger, a Princeton economist working with four psychologists on the time-use research team, figures that there is a simple explanation for the difference. For a woman, time with her parents often resembles work, whether it’s helping them pay bills or plan a family gathering. “For men, it tends to be sitting on the sofa and watching football with their dad,” said Mr. Krueger, who, when not crunching data, enjoys watching the New York Giants with his father.

This intriguing — if unsettling — finding is part of a larger story: there appears to be a growing happiness gap between men and women.

Two new research papers, using very different methods, have both come to this conclusion. Betsey Stevenson and Justin Wolfers, economists at the University of Pennsylvania (and a couple), have looked at the traditional happiness data, in which people are simply asked how satisfied they are with their overall lives. In the early 1970s, women reported being slightly happier than men. Today, the two have switched places.

Mr. Krueger, analyzing time-use studies over the last four decades, has found an even starker pattern. Since the 1960s, men have gradually cut back on activities they find unpleasant. They now work less and relax more.

Over the same span, women have replaced housework with paid work — and, as a result, are spending almost as much time doing things they don’t enjoy as in the past. Forty years ago, a typical woman spent about 23 hours a week in an activity considered unpleasant, or 40 more minutes than a typical man. Today, with men working less, the gap is 90 minutes.

These trends are reminiscent of the idea of “the second shift,” the name of a 1989 book by the sociologist Arlie Hochschild, arguing that modern women effectively had to hold down two jobs. The first shift was at the office, and the second at home.

But researchers who have looked at time-use data say the second-shift theory misses an important detail. Women are not actually working more than they were 30 or 40 years ago. They are instead doing different kinds of work. They’re spending more time on paid work and less on cleaning and cooking.

What has changed — and what seems to be the most likely explanation for the happiness trends — is that women now have a much longer to-do list than they once did (including helping their aging parents). They can’t possibly get it all done, and many end up feeling as if they are somehow falling short.

Mr. Krueger’s data, for instance, shows that the average time devoted to dusting has fallen significantly in recent decades. There haven’t been any dust-related technological breakthroughs, so houses are probably just dirtier than they used to be. I imagine that the new American dustiness affects women’s happiness more than men’s.

Ms. Stevenson was recently having drinks with a business school graduate who came up with a nice way of summarizing the problem. Her mother’s goals in life, the student said, were to have a beautiful garden, a well-kept house and well-adjusted children who did well in school. “I sort of want all those things, too,” the student said, as Ms. Stevenson recalled, “but I also want to have a great career and have an impact on the broader world.”

It’s telling that there is also a happiness gap between boys and girls in high school. As life has generally gotten better over the last generation — less crime, longer-living grandparents and much cooler gadgets — male high school seniors have gotten happier. About 25 percent say they are very satisfied with their lives, up from 16 percent in 1976. Roughly 22 percent of senior girls now give that answer, unchanged from the 1970s.

When Ms. Stevenson and I were talking last week about possible explanations, she mentioned her “hottie theory.” It’s based on an April article in this newspaper by Sara Rimer, about a group of incredibly impressive teenage girls in Newton, Mass. The girls were getting better grades than the boys, playing varsity sports, helping to run the student government and doing community service. Yet one girl who had gotten a perfect 2,400 on her college entrance exams noted that she and her friends still felt pressure to be “effortlessly hot.”

As Ms. Stevenson, who’s 36, said: “When I was in high school, it was clear being a hottie was the most important thing, and it’s not that it’s any less important today. It’s that other things have become more important. And, frankly, people spent a lot of time trying to be a hottie when I was in high school. So I don’t know where they find the time today.”

The two new papers — Mr. Krueger’s will be published in the Brookings Papers on Economic Activity and the Stevenson-Wolfers one is still in draft form — are part of a burst of happiness research in recent years. There is no question that the research has its limitations. Happiness, of course, is highly subjective.

A big reason that women reported being happier three decades ago — despite far more discrimination — is probably that they had narrower ambitions, Ms. Stevenson says. Many compared themselves only to other women, rather than to men as well. This doesn’t mean they were better off back then.

But it does show just how incomplete the gender revolution has been. Although women have flooded into the work force, American society hasn’t fully come to grips with the change. The United States still doesn’t have universal preschool, and, in contrast to other industrialized countries, there is no guaranteed paid leave for new parents.

Government policy isn’t the only problem, either. Inside of families, men still haven’t figured out how to shoulder their fair share of the household burden. Instead, we’re spending more time on the phone and in front of the television.

This weekend, I think I may volunteer to do a little dusting.

E-mail: Leonhardt@nytimes.com

Smile, please.

Wednesday, September 19th, 2007

I’ve been thinking about this for months. When I make a conscious effort to smile at everyone I see, there are great results. Even the grumpiest faces smile back. And seem transformed. Then, I feel great. It generates positive energy. And if one or two people are uplifted, so is the world.

So, this post officially kicks off the HardWorking Woman Smile Initiative. The idea is to consciously smile at everyone we see. Especially the ones you don’t want to smile at! (Then the payoff is even greater.) Whether it’s people we know or not, walking by or driving by. In the grocery aisle or on the sidewalk.

And, in honor of the initiative, HWW presents a new tee shirt:

Check it out in the HWW store.

And, from me to you:  :)

will life last longer if i move to san diego?

Sunday, July 22nd, 2007

We had another one yesterday. One of those blue-eyed, blue-skyed, warm and breezy, low-humidity days, so unusual in the midwest. And so especially precious. I wanted to hold onto it.. keep it. I  know in the blink of an eye, this day will give way to night (as gorgeous as it may be); summer will be over. Ben will be going back to school, they days will shorten.
I remember when time seemed to moved painfully slowly. When I was little, a week would take a month. Now, an entire season passes in a moment. sometimes i feels sad and even angry about it.
STOP! Slow down, at least!
So, i figure if i move to San Diego where (i’m told)  weather like this is every-day constant, at least i wont have the changing seasons to remind me of the speedy passing of time. Racing toward the end of my living in this world.
Not that i haven’t always loved the changing seasons. So much that even as i am saddened to notice the passing of one season i become elated at the becoming of the next one. It’s just that now, it all happens way too faster and faster.
Like toilet paper near the end of the roll.
Of course, even in San Diego,  though I might not have the changing seasons to remind me, I’d have to avoid calendars and my awareness of them.  Memorial day giving way to Halloween, and so on.
Guess i couldn’t watch the TV news or read the newspapers either. I wouldn’t be able help  my 11 year-old son with his homework anymore. the work is arithmetic one day, then filling out college applications the next.
I’d have to get rid of the mirror. So i couldn’t see what used to be my face, and what it is now. And now. and now.
Now is so— now. Fleeting. Instantaneous. Not the same as a moment ago. Unique.

And, I guess rather than moving to San Diego and avoiding mirrors, I could just enjoy the now that i have. With my son. And the other beings I love. With the sun. Or the rain. With myself.

am i working?

Saturday, July 21st, 2007

Work vs. Play
sounds like a face off. or a competition. at least, two opposites? mutually exclusive opponents?
Work=hard, gotta, have to, what one does so, and before, she can play? wouldn’t do it if i didn’t have to? Not play. Big.
Play=effortless, fun, want to, what you do after work is done. not work. Little. Inconsequencial.
It is said ‘play is the work of children.’
When does that change? when mom starts making you clean your room? Is sharing-your-toys your first job?
At school, they sneak work in. In those earliest years, ya think it’s all play. You don’t even realize you are learning. Then the learning becomes more formalized. and, for some, less fun. Work.
Some people are lucky enough to love their jobs. ‘I can’t believe i get paid for doing this’ they say. Some would rather work than play.
Sometimes work looks like play. Like taking little ones to the park. Someone elses’s little ones. for some, pushing little Jenny on the swing is work. Or, just on some days it feels like work. but not on others.
If it feels like work is it work?
Golf is a game. People work on their game. Is practicing a sport work?
Momming. some days it’s work, others not. some hours, some moments it’s the very hardest work.
work (wûrk)n.
1. Physical or mental effort or activity directed toward the production or accomplishment of something.
v.intr.
1. To exert oneself physically or mentally in order to do, make, or accomplish something.
Hmm. when you put it that way, work sounds pretty darn good. and fun. it could include knitting a sweater or baking a cake. not just balancing the checkbook or writing an expense report. it could be telling a joke– making someone smile. It could be giving a hug.
2.a. A job; employment: looking for work.
b. A trade, profession, or other means of livelihood.
npw, there are jobs and there are….jobs. there’s taking out the garbage and making a pot of tea. There is researching to find a cure for cancer.work, in fact, can be important or trivial, joyful or painful, of one choosing or something one has to do. it can bring many rewards, including a paycheck. but it doesn’t have to. it can feel like nothing comes of it. work can be noble. righteous. or at least make the worker feel that way.
sometimes work, or play, is more a state of mind than anything. the same activity can be work for one and play for another. or at different times, for the same person.

another definition:3.a. Something that one is doing, making, or performing, especially as an occupation or undertaking; a duty or task: begin the day’s work.
like taking a bath? locking up before going to bed?

here’s a good one: 4a. The part of a day devoted to an occupation or undertaking: met her after work.
b. One’s place of employment: Should I call you at home or at work?
what is someone’s ‘occupation or undertaking’ is not limited to a particulat part of the day? what if her place(s) of employment include “at home.’ (hence the hww tee shirt: 9->5=24/7)
ON THE OTHER HAND—
play (pl)
v. played, play·ing, plays
v.intr.
1. To occupy oneself in amusement, sport, or other recreation: children playing with toys.
Ah. so, for it to be play it has to be recreation? as opposed to the accomplishment of something? Can one work and play at the same time? what is play for one is work for another?

Then, there is just ‘what we do.’ No matter what label is put on it. productive, somehow, even if for our own heart, or soul. Profound or trivial. all worth celebrating during this short life, while we have it.

shirts with words

Friday, June 8th, 2007

for those of us considering plastic surgery–

Friday, June 8th, 2007

Subject: A compliment

Friday, June 8th, 2007

this, from my friend Lois

Subject: A compliment

A man, standing nude, looks in the bedroom mirror

and says to his wife, “I feel horrible, I look fat, ugly, and out of

shape. Pay me a compliment”

The wife replies, “Your eyesight’s damn near perfect.”