MY SHIP HAS SAILED

Laura's husband Pat has a hilarious new website based on his book, Hollywood Hi-Fi, about wannabe celebrity singers. Hear Bette Davis, Robert Mitchum and more trying to be music stars!

Oct . 13, 2007

PLASTIC SURGEONS LOSING PATIENCES WITH PATIENTS

Definitely check out the October issue of Allure magazine. I was at the hair salon just long enough to read the article on plastic surgery patients who present themselves to their doctors as self-styled experts. This is becoming a frustrating problem for cosmetic surgeons and dermatologists.

These patients – almost all female -- have never graduated from medical school, but they’ve spent a lot of time on the Internet, where the real truth is, and they walk into the doctor’s office armed with stacks of single-spaced typewritten pages of exacting instructions. They’ve created computer morphed “Before and After” shots of themselves. They know all the medical terminology and sound well-informed to the layman. The problem is, they’ve never actually performed surgery, injected Botox and wrinkle fillers, or learned the hazards of many of the procedures they want their doctors to perform.

Nevertheless, they’re insistent. And they’re never satisfied – they have to keep tinkering. Ultimately, they have even more procedures to “fix” the bad results caused by the original procedures. Then they have to “fix” the “fix.” And then “fix” that.

One doctor quoted in the article spoke of a patient who had returned from Mexico with a vial of some kind of bone cement (I’m not kidding) that she wanted him to inject into her face. As any reputable physician would, he refused, explaining that he had no guarantee of what was in that vial. He could literally be injecting her face with anything, and he wasn’t going to be responsible for that. So she waved bye-bye with her perfectly-manicured hand and continued her search for someone who would do it for her.

No doubt she didn’t have to search for long. I've heard of dermatologists in Dallas who very openly perform procedures – or have their assistants perform them – that are unapproved by the FDA and pose serious risks to one’s health and/or appearance. You can probably find their names on various plastic surgery websites that extoll the virtues of such procedures. Go ahead, look them up, so you’ll know who not to patronize.

This problem seems to be a variation of Body Dysmorphic Disorder, which is what makes anorexics see themselves as fat when they’re actually starving to death and Michael Jackson think he’ll be perfect after just one more plastic surgery. Often it’s a focus on one particular physical flaw, but once that flaw is addressed, it can morph into a pathological appetite for perfection that will never be satisfied.

My friend Dr. Brown, who’s known as one of the best plastic surgeons in Dallas (and that’s saying a lot!), tells me he has women come in and tell him exactly how to make over their breasts. A common instruction is, “Make me as big as you can make me!” But Dr. Brown doesn’t do that. Often, he’ll counsel a patient that because of her height and bone structure, he can’t make her more than, say, a “C.”

I think I can safely say he didn’t do Pam Anderson’s breasts. Or the breasts of any woman who aspires to look like her.

Quite a long time ago, I actually consulted Dr. Brown about a possible reshaping of my nose, and the experience taught me a lot about the psychological aspects of plastic surgery. If you look at pictures of me on my website, you’ll probably say, “Her nose looks just fine! Why would she want to change it?” (at least, I hope you'd say that). Well, the reason was one photograph, taken from an odd angle, that really did make my nose loom large. So I told Dr. Brown that I didn’t want to change the shape of my nose, just make the proportion a little smaller.

He listened, then had me come in for some “Before” pictures, both front and side view. The assistant behind the camera looked confused and had to ask me, “Now, what is it that you wanted changed?”

I’ll never know if Dr. Brown had told her to ask that question, but it sure made me think. “If this person,” I wondered, “who sees hundreds of plastic surgery patients every year, can’t even tell that it’s my nose I’m concerned about, then what is my problem?”

Then, when I saw the photos and realized that they looked more like “After” pictures, I told Dr. Brown that I’d decided against having any work done on my nose. He must have been relieved. And I’m glad that he trusted me to come to my own conclusion; if he’d just said at the outset, “You don’t need it,” I might have just answered, “Well, I think I do.”

Unfortunate, overdone nose jobs are as common as paralyzed faces these days. One big difference, though: Botox wears off in a few months, while, to paraphase James Bond, a nose job is forever. And if the first attempt isn’t right, there has to be another procedure, and perhaps another. I’ve seen many hypershortened noses that are beyond saving. Then the question becomes like a bad trip to a casino: Do you want to walk away with your losses, or risk what you have on another procedure, knowing you’ll probably come out worse but might come out better? In that sense, the addiction to plastic surgery seems to me a lot like the addiction to gambling. With this kind of risk, you might lose the ranch or lose your nose – or, like Michael Jackson, you might lose both.

This isn’t to say that a nose job is never a good thing. If you really don’t like your nose, if it’s caused you to suffer comments and heartache all your life, then I say, “Rah-rah, rhinoplasty!” If you’re in show business, and a slight change in your nose will make you photograph significantly better, then go for it, as lovelies from Paula Abdul to Halle Berry have. But find the best surgeon you can, one who will get it right the first time. Find one who will listen to you, and then…LISTEN TO HIM. Have the work done. And then, if at all possible, consider it a finished work of art.

Your life is a work in progress; your face shouldn’t have to be.

Oct. 10, 2007

A round-up of news from all over...

THE HALLUCINATORY HALO OF HEALTH

The famously shrinking Jared lost tons of weight by eating all his meals at Subway. So everything they have at Subway must be healthy, right? Wrong!

Cornell University found that people who eat at Subway, billed as the healthy, lowfat alternative to typical fast food, tend to consume more calories than McDonald’s diners. They gave students coupons for either a Big Mac (800 calories) or a 12-inch Italian sub with cheese (900 calories) plus any free extras they wanted. Subway eaters were more likely to add chips, a cookie and a non-diet drink because, researchers concluded, Subway has a “health halo” that makes people assume everything is low-calorie. Subway eaters were also more likely to snack later in the day because they think they ‘deserve it” for eating so healthily.

Also because, as everyone knows, free food has no calories.

Their snack of choice? I’m betting it was a Big Mac.

Does anyone really think Jared lost all that weight by eating 12-inch meatball subs with cheese? I’m thinking that most of the people in this study were college students with fast metabolisms, who got the extra cookie because it was free and Subway has really good cookies. The ones who did have weight issues probably just thought, “Well, this is free; I’ll diet tomorrow.” And maybe it’s not that Subway has a “health halo” but that McDonald’s has the opposite: an especially bad rep as unhealthy fast food that makes people choose more carefully. This study may have some merit, but I’ve noticed that researchers, after painstakingly accumulating and analyzing their data, often interpret the facts in an incredibly subjective way. On the bright side, if deluded people keep chowing down on Subway meatball subs, Jared has plenty of big old pants he’d be happy to sell them.

BIG SOUTH AMERICAN BREASTS

I didn’t know this, but it’s become a tradition in Venezuela, a truly beauty-obsessed nation, to give one’s daughter breast implants for her 15th birthday. There’s more plastic surgery taking place in Venezuela than anywhere else on earth – is it any wonder that it produces the most beauty queens? -- and the 15th birthday implants are so popular, they’re advertised on TV. Breast augmentation has become a rite of passage, like nose jobs in Beverly Hills.

Proving the old adage that even a broken clock is right twice a day, socialist president and aspiring revolutionary Hugo Chavez has come out against the ridiculous fad, calling it “horrible” and “the ultimate degradation.” He also wants his country rid of “Western icons”such as Barbie dolls. He lectured the country about this on a recent Saturday TV appearance that ran eight hours.

I hear that people actually watched the whole thing, transfixed. Maybe because it was illustrated.

Obviously, Chavez hasn’t thought this thing through. If he wants a socialist revolution, what could be more helpful than a country full of giant boobs? Also, his stand against fake breasts could be the final straw that makes Venezuelans rise up and overthrow him. He’s said some crazy things before, but this time he’s gone too far!

MORE ON BOOBS

Scientist Patrick Mallucci presented a breakthrough report in London this week. He thoroughly researched photos of hundreds of female celebrities with fake boobs to help plastic surgeons create perfect-looking breasts for clients. (Millions of guys do this job on the Internet, and he’s apparently the only one who gets paid for it.) Speaking to the Breast Enlargement Conference (yes!), he said he’d found the ideal breast job is a “45-55 percent proportion,” with the nipple at least 45 percent from the top and not at the halfway mark or lower.

He also declared British model Caprice to have the best fake boobs in showbiz (they’re absolutely capricious), while the worst are Victoria Beckham’s, which are “unnaturally round.” I tend to agree. Of course, they look that way because in honor of her husband, she had two soccer balls installed.

Also, her nipples are in the bottom 10 percent.

This researcher had wanted to study female celebrities with real breasts, but, unfortunately, he couldn’t find any.

THE RULES OF ATTRACTION: HIGHS AND LOWS

McMaster University in Canada studied the Hadza tribe of Tanzania and found that men with deeper voices had more children than men with higher-pitched voices. Researchers said previous studies found that women find males with deeper voices to be more attractive, judging them to be older, healthier and more dominant and masculine. Also, men perceive women with higher voices as more attractive, subordinate (!), feminine, healthier and younger.

Okay, then, I want to know why Jessica Rabbit, the most seductive cartoon character ever, was voiced by Kathleen Turner, not Jennifer Tilly or the woman who voices Minnie Mouse. And why have men traditionally been attracted to sultry-voiced women like Lauren Bacall and Susan Hayward?

Conversely, why did women like the Bee Gees in the ‘70s? Sting sounds as though he’s on helium, yet he’s perceived to be all the things on the above laundry list. And look at Mick Jagger and Robert Plant: they don’t have deep voices, and I’ll bet they’ve got more children than anybody. Some they don’t even know about.

I personally tend to like lower voices, for both men and women. My husband has worked in radio and doesn’t have the basso profundo “voice of God” announcer’s voice, but it’s still pretty low. It makes him more attractive to me than he’d be with a high voice. On the other hand, he doesn’t have kids. I think this may be another one of those studies in which subjective conclusions have been drawn. Or maybe those conclusions are just particularly true in Tanzania.

STUPID MAN COMPARES OLD WIFE TO NEW

A 43-year-old man in Johor state, Malaysia, was in bed with his 48-year-old wife when he began unfavorably comparing her sex skills with those of his new, younger, second wife. Bad idea!

Wife #1 became enranged, grabbed a kitchen knife and nearly deprived him of his manliness. He managed to get to the hospital and have it sewn securely back in place.

Though the wife could get up to three years in jail, she’s not worried. All she needs is one woman on the jury. Then it’s “justifiable penicide.”

Men, listen up. Never, I repeat, NEVER, compare your older first wife to your younger second wife. Especially when you are naked, and there’s a kitchen knife within reach.

STILL TOO FAT FOR THE RUNWAY

Have you seen the billboards that show anorexic French actress Isabelle Caro nude? The shocking pictures of this emaciated woman are captioned with the slogan, “NO TO ANOREXIA.” There’s a magazine ad, too, and Caro has been featured on Entertainment Tonight and other TV shows. Critics say girls might look at Caro as a role model because she’s getting to be a celebrity, and they have a point. But photographer Oliviero Toscani said that girls with anorexia who look at it would say to themselves that they have to stop dieting, not that they have to look like Isabelle Caro.

My thought is that girls with anorexia will say to themselves that Isabelle Caro looks fat.

Or maybe they’ll look at the pictures and say, “Hey, I’m not that thin... I’d like to be…”

I’ve seen what she looks like, and it’s a skeleton with some skin stretched over it. I don’t know how this woman is still alive. In fact, my theory is that she’s not actually alive. I think there’s been some taxidermy involved. She’s been stuffed and mounted.

Well, mounted.

THE BRITISH ARE PHYSICAL WRECKS

A study by the gym chain L.A. Fitness has found that the fitness of Britons has reached a new low: 53 percent can’t touch their toes, 68 percent can’t do 20 sit-ups, 60 percent can’t carry their weekly shopping home from the supermarket, and a quarter of British women are too fat to fasten their own bras. It has occurred to me that these are the very women who really need to wear bras! I suppose many of them just give up and wear tube tops.

The Brits seriously need to start getting in shape. Here’s one suggestion: If they’re having trouble carrying home their groceries, maybe they should stop buying so much food.

Next: In October’s Allure magazine: Plastic surgery obsession from the doctor’s point of view.

Oct. 7, 2007

DON'T BELIEVE YOUR EYES...OR ANYONE ELSE'S

I’ve just watched two absolute must-see videos. The first one, Onslaught, a Dove film at campaignforrealbeauty.com, opens with a closeup of a lovely fresh-faced girl, maybe about 9 or 10 years old, and then takes off into a bombardment of edgy media images at breakneck pace: flawless faces, perfect bodies in tiny bikinis, and “transformed” skin, interspersed with yo-yo weight loss and even a brief flash of the toilet bowl as it awaits an upchucked meal. (This all happens so fast that one may need several viewings to take it all in.) It ends with another shot of the young girl with her friends as they walk to school and the message, “Talk to your daughter before the beauty industry does.”

Bravo, Dove! Of course, it has to be said that Dove is a part of the beauty industry, but they deserve a huge commendation for their unique approach.

Several months ago, I was surprised by the cynical reaction to the Dove campaign expressed by an acquaintance of mine. “I can just see the executives and ad people sitting around the table, talking about how they need to position their company to cut through the clutter,” she said (I’m paraphrasing here), her eyes rolling. “That’s all it’s really about.” And she considered it exploitative to show the women of various body types in their underwear.

I must confess -- cynic though I am -- that I love the Dove Campaign For Real Beauty. The quest for perfection forced on us from all sides can be so damaging; this campaign shows how we can be suckered by it and helps us find our way back to the real world. Even if, in the end, it is just a way to sell products, at least it’s the right way. May they break all sales records with this campaign.

Dove has another great video that rapidly details the amazing powers of Photoshop to “beautify” a woman’s face. It’s called Evolution, and it's been on their website for some time; but there’s a new one, not associated with Dove, that does the same thing with a woman’s entire body. It’s called The Power Of Photoshop. Unless you’re a professional photographer who’s already skilled at this process, you have to see it to believe it.

In the video, an extremely heavy woman is posing with much of her ample flesh exposed. The Photoshop artist gradually reproportions the woman’s body and face, much as a sculptor chips away at a block of marble to create his vision of Aphrodite. The woman’s dimply skin becomes flawless, her breasts are lifted and shaped, her dark hair triples in volume as her hips become one-third their original size, and the light around her glows like hundreds of buttery candles. She has become a completely different woman, and the effect is totally realistic. Now, she’s ready to post her picture on eharmony.com.

Wow, this is even faster weight loss than they promise in those ads for weight-loss products. No hunger, no surgery, no sagging skin, and the weight stays off!

I’m urging every woman to watch this, in the hope that she’ll never try to compete with Photoshopped media images again.

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A WORM’S-EYE VIEW OF TIME

As any reader of this blog knows, I follow the Perricone Prescription. That means no sugar or other high-glycemic foods and plenty of antioxidants, both in food and as supplements. I think it’s had quite a remarkable effect, not just on how I look but on my overall health, so much so that I even sing an aria, “O Worship Dr. Perricone,” in my show.

Scientifically, Perricone has been on the cutting edge, but the jury is still out on some of his recommendations. For example, the German Institute of Human Nutrition says that a key to living longer might be giving up sweets and – here’s the surprising part – avoiding vitamins.

At least, if you’re a worm.

In their study, they blocked the ability of worms to process glucose, with the result that they (the worms, not the researchers) lived 25 percent longer. In a human, that translates into about 15 years. The scientists found that restricting sugar at first caused the worms to build up free radicals that cause aging. You’d think that would be a bad thing, but their bodies responded by building up stronger, long-lasting defenses. This might explain why taking antioxidant vitamins to wipe out free radicals doesn’t seem to help people live longer. The researchers said, “The bad thing in the end promotes something good.”

So it seems to me that, if you restrict sugar and take antioxidants, you won’t live longer, but you will look younger when you die. Very important if you want an open casket. You should have seen how young these worms looked – you wouldn’t even have known they were segmented! They looked unsegmented!

Actually, I know what preserves worms best of all. Tequila.

Oct. 3, 2007

TO GRAY OR NOT TO GRAY

Did you know that the typical mega-bookstore has an entire section devoted to aging? It's true! You see, it's very important to age in exactly the right way, because every choice you make is going to be a political and personal statement, loaded with implications about your values. I just found this out in an article called "The War Over Going Gray" by Anne Kreamer, who has also written an entire book on how your hair should age. It's called Going Gray.

Kreamer, after coloring her hair for over 20 years, decided to stop doing it. "I found to my surprise," she says, "that by visually challenging my peers (if I was really gray, so must they be!), I unwittingly landed myself on the front lines of a public struggle - literally superficial but at the same time almost existentially meaningful to American women - with the vicissitudes of age."

She says she encountered two reactions: "a sort of proud, sometimes, sanctimonious right-on-sister enthusiasm from fellow gray-haired women," and "an equally proud, sometimes resentful don't-judge-my-choices-I-do-this-to-feel-good-about-me defensiveness in the comments of the committed-to-dyeing cohort."

"Hardly anyone was lukewarm in their reactions," she continues, "which suggests to me we may have a contentious new baby-boomer argument over gray hair that is as mutually judgmental as the mommy wars between working and stay-at-home mothers was in the 1980s and '90s."

Again with the boomer thing. Never mind that the youngest boomers -- many of whom, I'm sure, are graying now -- were three years old during the Summer Of Love. Among even the oldest boomers, I'll bet I could find a few who weren't cutting class to join sit-ins or dropping acid at Woodstock. Nevertheless, there's an assumption that all the baby boomers used to be hippies and they'd be selling out, man, to do something as dishonest as color their hair! It's ironic: former flower children are obligated to say goodbye to the hair they had as children. The kids who believed they should "never trust anyone over 30" are now forced to deal with the politics of age. Well, what goes around comes around.

I know I live in Dallas, home of the hair that's big and blond, but have I completely missed something? Where is the existential meaning in the decision about hair color? Why is hair color an "age thing" at all? High school girls color their hair. High school boys color their hair. Twelve-year-old girls get highlights, just for fun. Most women of all ages change the color of their hair or at least enhance it in some way.

Women go gray "in their 20s, 30s, 40s, 50s and beyond." Hair color, including the way it changes through the years, is a genetic trait. Raven-haired Lara Flynn Boyle has said in an interview that her hair turned totally white in her twenties but that she chose to keep it dark. (I agree that the dark hair is very dramatic against her fair skin.) But all-over silver hair can beautiful at any age; I think women such as Emmylou Harris who attain it at a young age and look beautiful in it are lucky. And just think - if you're tall, skinny, have great skin and beautiful white hair, you can be quite successful modeling for Chico's.

I didn't get the "white hair" gene. My poker-straight blond hair, about a decade ago, started turning a little darker and more ashy. I had it highlighted for awhile, but so many Dallas women are blond that I'm glad I made the decision eight years ago to turn it a vibrant but natural-looking red. It makes me feel good. It makes my eyes look bluer. And the shade suits my overall coloring so well that most of the people I've met in the past eight years are stunned when I tell them I'm not a real redhead.

Judging from my eyebrows, the hair on my head is probably coming in an ashy-blondy-brownish color. If I stopped coloring it, the occasional gray hairs that might be there would probably blend in and look like subtle highlights, if they were noticed at all. My mom didn't get much gray in her taupe-colored hair until very late in life, so I probably won't, either. I'll never have Emmylou Harris hair. I have as much chance of that as of having curly hair. Or thick hair, drat.

Never did I dream that by coloring my hair I was being dishonest in any way or making some kind of personal statement about aging. But it seems I have been, without even realizing it!

Kreamer points out that of the 16 female U.S. Senators, not a single one has visible gray hair, though they range in age from 46 to 74. Of the 70 female members of the House, only seven have gray hair. "Political professionals," she reports, "say that the double standard is a great unspoken inequity but that candidates and officeholders don't dare publicly discuss it for fear of seeming trivial."

What double standard? There may presently be, percentage-wise, more gray-haired men than gray-haired women in office, but that number is going down as more and more men feel the pressure to look young and vital. Ronald Reagan dyed his hair. (The joke was that he'd gone "prematurely orange.") I'm sure quite a few men in Congress do. I'd be willing to bet Mitt Romney's coloring the gray, and my hunch is that other Presidential candidates - not just Hillary Clinton -- are, too. Joe Biden got a hair transplant. And imagine how many toupees there must be among politicians! How many men in politics are being "dishonest" by covering their male pattern baldness?

Kreamer's article paraphrases Clairol's in-house creative director of color and style as saying that one powerful motivator of gray-haired women to dye their hair is to live the fantasy that they're still 30 or 35 instead of 45 or 60. (This statement chafes me for so many reasons that if I were currently using Clairol hair coloring, I'd switch to another brand.) She says that rather than sell it as a fantasy or lie, the postmodern beauty industry casts artificial color as a means of expressing a deeper truth about who one is.

Gee. I color mine because it's fun, it looks striking on stage and, as previously noted, it makes my eyes look bluer.

Rose Weitz, who wrote Rapunzel's Daughters: What Women's Hair Tells Us About Women's Lives (Jeez, another book on aging hair??), says, "Even if, in the abstract, we think we look all right with gray hair, we nonetheless feel as if we are losing our 'real selves' if we no longer have our 'real hair color' - the color we had when we were young and looked our best." If that's true, I should want to be blonde forever. And who says we "looked our best" back then, anyway? Some of us did. Some look better today.

Interestingly, Kreamer notes that when she tested gray hair vs. brown hair on Match.com, posting the pictures three months apart, she had much more success as the gray-haired version of herself. (She gave her age accurately for each posting.) Three times as many men in New York City, Chicago and even Los Angeles were interested in the "gray" Kreamer. She speculates that her honesty made her seem refreshing and accessible, or that perhaps her gray hair made her stand out among all the fake, colored hair.

Both of those possibilities may be true. But an additional consideration is that the gray just looks really good on her. Did she ever think about that?

Probably not. In her article, she says, "These days, choosing not to dye has become a statement rather than a casual stylistic choice."

She obviously didn't talk to me. But I'm telling you now that, down the road, as I get more gray in my hair, my decision about coloring it will be nothing more than a casual stylistic choice. My hair color will never be a political statement. It will not reveal my numerical age. It will not clue others in to my opinions any more than my numerical age does.

And to you gray-hairs out there, dyed or not: Unless you're in a field that demands employees who look as if they're straight from Central Casting, I recommend that you get over yourself and stop overanalyzing this issue. Do whatever you like with your hair. It's not that important. Really.

Kreamer didn't talk to my friend Lu, either. Lu is a longtime Dallas folksinger and songwriter who has straight, thick, uniformly gray hair. It's not a dramatic white or silver, just light gray. She wears it in a distinctive short cut that looks good on her. (For those who care how old she is, she's 80, though she looks many years younger, even with the gray.) I asked her about the to-dye-or-not-to-dye question; does she keep her natural color as a personal statement, or what?

Her attitude was very much like mine. She's not making any statement; she just chose to do what she liked. I saw an old picture of her with brown hair, and I have to say, I like the gray better on her. The lighter color is eye-catching, and she stands out in the crowd.

She could go blonde, and I'd say the same thing.

Sept. 22, 2007

Maddison Gabriel has blue eyes, dark blond hair, and is 5-foot 7. That’s not very tall for a model, but in this case, she could still grow a few inches. She just turned 13 years old.

Chosen when she was 12 to be the official ambassador of Gold Coast Fashion Week in Queensland, Australia, she apparently wore a number of revealing outfits during the event. How revealing? I don’t know, but I’d be willing to bet they wouldn’t have met the dress code at my middle school.

Her participation has sparked strong debate in Australia, with Prime Minister John Howard deeming it unacceptable. “Catapulting girls as young as 12 into something like that is outrageous,” he said. “There should be age limits -- I mean there has to be -- we do have to preserve some notion of innocence in our society.” Europe has set an age limit of 16 for appearing on catwalks (I didn’t know that); he wants Australia to do the same.

But Maddison’s mom has demanded an apology from the Prime Minister. He’s getting “very doddery,” she says. “He does not know exactly what 13 and 14-year-old girls are like. I used to vote for him. We’re trying to get our teenage daughters to act older.”

Why? So old rich guys will want to date them?

Fashion Week spokesman Kelly Wieler said, “Maddy got in because she was the best contestant. The judges saw that she was fit to do the job.” She added that Maddy wouldn’t be modeling swimwear or lingerie. (She didn’t mention that many designer clothes look just like lingerie and are just as revealing.)

As for Maddison, she feels she deserved to win and become the “face” of the show. “I believe that I can fit into women’s clothes, I can model women’s clothes, so I should be able to do it, she insisted. “It doesn’t matter about age. It matters that you can do the job. Modeling is all I’ve wanted to do since I was six. I don’t think I’m too young.”

If she can fit into women’s clothes, it’s because most of them seem designed for women who are built like 12-year-olds. And even though I’ve said many times and believe with my whole heart that “it doesn’t matter about age,” I am always talking about the world of adults. This is another issue entirely.

For me, the most important question to ask is why the “face” of this women’s fashion event is that of a barely 13-year-old girl. “Best” is subjective; why was she considered the “best” contestant? She’s a cute girl, and if this were a junior fashion show, she would be perfect. But this event is for grownup women, and I don’t understand why grownup women are supposed to aspire to look like a seventh-grader, albeit a very tall one playing dress-up in mommy’s makeup and heels.

This attitude about fashion and beauty is not unique to Australia. Here in Dallas, we have an annual event called the Fashion!Dallas/Kim Dawson model search. (Fashion!Dallas is part of The Dallas Morning News, and the Kim Dawson Agency is a local modeling agency.) Each year, hundreds of contestants show up at a mall to have their pictures snapped. There are specific height and age requirements. Judges select the finalists, whose pictures appear in the paper. Readers get to vote for their faves and select two Readers’ Choice winners, but the judges pick the actual winner or winners. This is a big deal; being chosen can really jump-start a career in modeling. Case in point: the first year’s winner, Erin Wasson, who went on to be a top international model.

The age threshold for a girl entering this contest is 14; the cutoff age is, I think, 21. Last year, the girl who won, Ali Michael, was – you guessed it -- 14.

I’m reminded of myself at 14, certainly tall enough to model after growing six inches in one year! My height was 5-foot-9, considerably taller than most of the boys (alas), and I was to grow another inch. I was skinny, too, with blue eyes and long, straight, very blonde hair. But I was painfully shy, absolutely naïve, and certainly no fashion plate; Mom made most of my clothes. I’d gotten contact lenses but was a year or so away from wearing makeup. Maybe someone could’ve gotten hold of me then and made a model out of me, but I’m glad nobody did. I was a baby – way too young. I wasn’t at all ready to be a model in the very adult and sometimes rough world of fashion.

Today, though, the fashion world actually seems to prefer babies to wear its grownup clothes. It’s not my imagination – the models really are getting younger. In real life, some of these models wouldn’t even be old enough to wear a prom dress.

By amazing coincidence (I’d already started writing this piece), today’s paper features this year’s finalists in the Model Search. There are a dozen finalists this year, all girls, ranging in age from 14 to 20. The 20-year-old, a 5-foot-11 brunette named Ren Vokes, is described as the “elder statesman” of the group. “Everyone here is 14 and I’m 20,” she observes. “I feel like an old person for the first time in my life.”

Cry me a river.

Not all the other girls are 14, but most are 14-16. Looking at their headshots, I’d think they all could get work as professional models. (An interesting aside: one of the 14-year-olds is Asian, and she still has Eastern-style eyes, with no fold. I wonder if this pretty girl will feel pressure to change that.) In the photos, they all look closer in age than they actually are. I don’t have a favorite to win, but I’d be more likely to bet on one at the lower end of the age range than the upper end.

I can remember, way back in the Jurassic Period, when teenage model Brooke Shields created a scandal just by saying, “Know what comes between me and my Calvins? Nothing.” It was widely thought that she was too young to do such a suggestive ad. Times have changed. Young teens now look to such stunning role models as Paris Hilton as their fashion icons.

Even so, my concern is less for the extremely young girls involved in modeling than for the grownup women who feel compelled to try to look like them. Think about it: even a 30-year-old woman is surrounded by images of girls half her age. Some of these models are in ads for anti-aging products.

What is wrong with this picture?

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Next time: “To Gray Or Not To Gray…that is the question,” and you better get the answer right because it’s an incredibly significant personal statement and a matter of political correctness. Or so I’ve read.

Sept. 20, 2007

Facing Spiegel's "Reality," Beestung Breasts & Other News

The Spiegel catalog has just arrived - I get one about every three days - and once again, there's a section called "Reality Dressing - fabulous at every age!" As you might guess, it's one of my biggest pet peeves. This one has eight full pages of how to dress in your 20s, 30s, 40s, 50s, 60s, and "ageless," which I assume is code for 70 and over.

It starts with a two-page spread featuring one women from each of the age groups; for example, the 50s are represented by Beverly Johnson, "legendary model." (This is one of those rare gigs for 50-plus models.) The other women are not professional models. They include a pediatric nurse, a real estate broker, a copy editor and a retired teacher. The 40s are represented by Lynette Lewis, author of "Climbing the Ladder in Stilettos," though she appears to be wearing a medium-height heel. All the women, from 20 to "ageless," look polished, confident and attractive.

They're all dressed in "casual chic" for fall: black pants with lots of leather. But there's a problem: I'm supposed to see how they illustrate "leather in every look for every age," but for the life of me, I can't see what it is that makes the clothes appropriate for their particular age group. As long as these women have essentially the same body shape, any one of them could wear any of the outfits. And if they could, why have they been divided into decades? I don't see the point of this whole exercise.

I personally would wear any of the outfits on these two pages, except maybe the boxy red jacket they put on the "ageless" woman, simply because I think big jackets overwhelm my willowy build. I feel swallowed by them, and would "at any age." Ditto the super-wide pants on the 60s woman.

The next two-page spread features a lineup of put-together outfits - no models here, just the clothes - with one supposedly for the 20s, one for the 30s, and on through "ageless." I'd wear the 20s and 40s outfits but definitely not the 30s, 60s or "ageless" ones. (Oops, they seem to have left out the 50s! Whatever will Beverly Johnson wear?)

The next two-page spread has another lineup, this time of "9-to-5 looks for every age and every style." None of these are my style. One possible exception is the 20s look, but it has those floppy, wide pants. An outfit that might look chic on someone - someone who isn't me -- is the black "ageless" pantsuit, which could look quite smart for the right business occasion. But with its matching long coat, it's so covered-up. Any long coat tends to make me think of Bea Arthur, and black pantsuits remind me of Hillary Clinton. As for the outfits for 30s, 40s and 50s, they look matronly and would add about 20 pounds - some might say 20 years -- to anyone's frame. (Again, these clothes are shown without models.) I would never wear them, "at any age."

Moving on to the next two-page spread, we come to my favorite part. The catalog takes one article of clothing, in this case a leopard-print "trapeze" jacket, and shows it used appropriately for the 20s, 30s, 40s, 50s and 60s. (Oops, this time they left out "ageless"!) And for each decade, they thoughtfully provide an appropriate adjective.

In your 20s, you want to be "edgy." In your 30s, "sophisticated." The 40s are "elegant." The 50s are "adventurous." Finally, in your 60s, it's time to be "dramatic." And, believe it or not, for the woman in her 60s, they pair the leopard-print jacket with A LEOPARD-PRINT SKIRT. My Lord! Even SCTV's Edith Prickley wore a tasteful black skirt with her leopard jacket. That's right, I am telling you that even Edith Prickley had enough taste to know that top-to-toe leopard would've been too much! What are they thinking??? And why didn't they include a matching, leopard-print pillbox hat?

I've tried to cultivate a wardrobe that manages to be edgy, sophisticated, elegant, adventurous and dramatic, all on a limited budget. Ironically, many of my clothes come from the Newport News catalog. Newport News is part of Spiegel.

So, listen up, Spiegel. I am not a demographic category. I have always been and will continue to be "ageless." Stop defining a woman by her decade of life. I hate it, and I'm sure many other women are sick of it, too. Your "Reality Dressing" pages are a prime example of the age-obsession that drives me insane.

It's not my reality at all.

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BEE STING DEFLATES BREAST, AND OTHER NEWS

Southern China City News reports that a woman from Miaoli, Taiwan, was riding her motorcycle while wearing a low-cut dress when a bee stung her on the breast. "My right breast disappeared in one day," she said of her saline implant. I understand this was so traumatic for her, she broke out in hives. Her surgeon said this is very unusual, but the woman is very skinny, and her thin skin was stretched tightly over the implant. (Bet that looked natural!) Ironically, her natural breasts were exactly the size of bee stings. The doctor replaced her implant but advised her to avoid acupuncture. Also, lapel pins.

Victoria Beckham should be warned about this.

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Speaking of breast implants, did you know that the Australian military has given taxpayer-funded breast implants to some of its female sailors? (Maybe they take it out of the budget for torpedoes.) A spokesman defended this practice, saying plastic surgery is provided where there are compelling medical, dental or psychological reasons. He said suggestions that they're trying to make the female sailors look sexy are not only wrong, but insulting.

Of course, suggestions that the sailors don't look sexy are also wrong and insulting.

The spokesman also noted that in an emergency, breast implants can double as flotation devices. And women who've had the surgery don't have to admit it. The policy regarding plastic surgery is strictly, "Don't ask, don't tell."

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More implant news: The Hindustan Times reports that Indian men have noticed women looking at their butts, and they're getting self-conscious about it. A doctor at one cosmetic surgery clinic said that for every seven female patients he sees, there are now two men coming in for butt treatments. "Butt therapy" can involve anything from liposuction and toning/firming to hair and scar removal. A few men have even gone in for implants, but so far, not many. Probably just Bollywood actors.

If this doctor wants more male patients for this procedure, he should tell them that butt implants will help align their lower chakras.

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A Cosmopolitan magazine survey of over 5,000 Australian women found that they are unhappy with their bodies but don't know how to change them. Almost half said if they could change anything about their lives, it would be their bodies; 42 percent consider themselves overweight or obese. Yet a quarter of the women exercise once a month or less, and nearly half don't eat fruit every day. One in six women prefer chocolate to sex, and one in ten would rather skip a meal than give up alcohol to lose weight. Yet 10 percent said they're so depressed about their bodies, they'd give up four or more years of their lives to lose weight. Presumably, they mean the years they'd have to spend on a weight-loss diet.

Realistically, as long as women are this depressed, is there any way they could give up cheesecake? Not to mention chocolate -- if it's better than sex, giving it up would be worse than death. I can also see why they'd rather give up food than booze: food reminds them they're fat, while booze helps them forget they're fat. With these habits, they may indeed lose four or more years of their lives, and still die fat.

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Speaking of chocolate, a psychologist at England's University of Bristol says that despite what chocoholics think, chocolate is not literally addictive. He said some people may think they have no control over their craving for it, but the compounds in chocolate that produce a buzz in the brain are found in higher concentrations in other foods, such as cheese and avocados, which are not generally thought of as addictive foods.

This doesn't explain the people who would do anything for a Klondike bar. But I think it's probably the same as with nuts: sometimes you feel like a nut, sometimes you don't.

I also believe there may be people addicted to avocados. I no longer eat chocolate (it causes my migraines-drat!!), but I can polish off a pretty generous bowl of guacamole. Especially if it has a little cheese on it.

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Finally, the Northern Italian town of Piobbico has unveiled a monument to ugly people. It's sponsored by the World Association of Ugly People, an Italian-born group that has spread around the world. Their motto: A person is what he is and not what he looks like. So instead of a monument showing a good-looking movie star or dashing war hero, this monument depicts "a person who is just as beautiful, but only on the inside."

It will be unveiled, then immediately veiled again.

Oh, and the person they have chosen wins a free Extreme Makeover.

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Next time: the new star of fashion modeling. She just turned 13.

Sept. 18, 2007

WEIGHING IN ON BRITNEY, MADONNA & DEMI

I've seen footage of Britney Spears as a little girl, singing confidently and on-key. After she'd had a few hits, I saw her sing live on "Saturday Night Live," just sitting on a stool with a hand-held microphone, and thought she did a good job. But Britney's appeal has been more about her hot dancer's body and her choreography - some nice moves, but certainly not too difficult for most high school drill teams to pull off -- than about her voice.

In case you are Amish or from the planet Neptune, I should mention that the voice we've heard on CDs and in concert was created in a studio. (To find out how modern hit songs are manufactured, just click here.) In concert or on TV, Britney is always lip-synching to a backing track. If you think that's because she can't be expected to sing while she's dancing, you haven't ever been to a Broadway show. And her songs, while catchy in the beginning, are now just tuneless and annoying attempts to be seductive, delivered in that generic overproduced whisper that also marks the "music" of Janet Jackson and countless other pop and hip-hop artists who really don't have much voice at all. (To be fair to Britney, these other artists also lip-synch.)

I don't know what happened to Britney's voice. Maybe she just got so accustomed to lip-synching that she lost her confidence for singing live. Or maybe she spends so much time in loud clubs, talking over music, smoking Marlboros and pouring hard liquor down her throat, that she's fried her vocal chords. Whatever the reason, Britney is a musical performer who never sings.

So what does she have left? Her ability to lip-synch, her smooth dance moves, her hot, sexy body? As we saw on the recent MTV Music Video Awards show, the lip-synching and the dance moves didn't come off well. Some of the choreography didn't come off at all. Later, it was revealed that Britney was 4-1/2 hours late to rehearsal and showed up with a frozen margarita in her hand after clubbing all night. She has only herself to blame for that, but with all the personal trauma she's been through in recent years, self-inflicted or not, and the constant public scrutiny, I'm wondering whether--deep down--she even wants to be on stage. (Check out late-night host Craig Ferguson's monologue on the relentless criticism and joking about Britney.) If she doesn't, she should go somewhere secluded, find some serious help, and get her life together. This will take some time. There are plenty of attractive girls with talent who'd love to be pop superstars and who would definitely show up for rehearsal.

She did make the cover of Entertainment Weekly, and the feature story is all about her, but I'm sorry: there is such a thing as bad publicity, and this is it.

Some might say that Britney's missing rehearsal was a sign of her overconfidence. I speculate that it was the opposite. This was to be The Comeback, and she must've been feeling more pressure than she could handle. So she avoided the situation, preferring to down drink after drink of liquid confidence to get herself up on that stage. Yeah, that helped. Good plan.

So, simply through lack of preparedness, her dance moves didn't click. She wasn't sure of the lyrics, either, even though they seemed to consist of nothing more than "gimme, gimme, gimme," so at some point she simply stopped mouthing them.

That leaves her hot, sexy body.

The Internet has exploded with comments, pro and con, about Britney's appearance on that show. They range from "Most women would kill to have that body" (probably true) to "Britney is a fat tub of lard" (a gross exaggeration). Most of the "fat" remarks have been incredibly snide, and I'd be willing to bet that most were made by people who weigh more than Britney. Weight seems to be something that no one can get exactly right, and yet it's sooooo important. Opinions vary, and everyone has to "weigh in."

Two pregnancies - along with, it must be said, mass quantities of fried chicken and tater tots - had wrought havoc on Britney's trim, sexy body long before the MTV show, but she had gotten herself into pretty fair shape for The Comeback. It was revealed later that she rejected the flattering outfit created for her as "not sexy enough" in favor of the tiny black bra and little-boy shorts she must've been carrying around in her purse. That must've been the margaritas talking. Or maybe it was the outfit she'd been clubbing in the night before.

The body that might have looked stunning in the other outfit definitely lost its "wow factor" in the bra-and-shorts. Britney doesn't seem to understand what "sexy" is. It's not getting out of a limo in a short skirt and no panties. It's not wearing as little clothing as you can get away with on TV, especially if the outfit is unflattering. In other words, this discussion shouldn't even be about Britney's weight. It should be about her taste and her judgment.

Also, have you noticed that the emphasis on super-thinness seems confined to white girls? Beyonce has a little extra poundage - temporarily lost to shoot "Dreamgirls," but now comfortably back on -- and so does Jennifer Lopez. They are both considered sexy. Queen Latifah's career hasn't been hurt by her size. It's only the white singers who have to be matchstick thin. I just read a capsule review of white blues singer Joss Stone that mentioned she'd finally lost her baby fat; would that have been said of a black singer? Unlike Britney, Joss Stone is a tremendous talent, but we're still talking about her weight.

When looking at Britney's career, it might be useful to compare her with Madonna. Both started as hot, young dancer/singers with lithe bodies and small voices. Both had the early success in pop music that's typically associated with flashes-in-the-pan. Both appealed to a young, fickle demographic. Yet Madonna built on her early success, while Britney soon faltered. I'd say - and Madonna would no doubt agree - that the critical difference was Madonna's steely determination and singlemindedness. Critics say that Madonna has constantly "reinvented herself" (a term I hate; I'll have to write about that sometime), but I don't think that's it. Her various incarnations were always expressions of the Madonna we knew; the important thing is that she grew as an artist. By the time she sang the torch song "Sooner Or Later" for the film Dick Tracy, her voice had become a lovely thing. The chirpiness heard on early hits such as "Borderline" was gone, replaced by a rich, emotional, mature sound. She sings live in concert, though probably with a backing track, and she's kept her dancer's body, even at almost twice Britney's age.

Ironically, the very maturity that transformed her voice has been her biggest liability in the pop music world. Now in her late 40s, Madonna is the brunt of jokes about her age. It doesn't even seem to matter that she's kept her body in top form. Weight is something virtually all of us can do something about, but age...well. No one, repeat, NO ONE can turn back the clock.

Case in point: Demi Moore, who is in the news. (If an over-40 actress is in the news, you can bet the subject will be age.) In the London Daily Mail, Lucretia Munro writes that four years after undergoing a massively expensive, top-to-toe makeover, Demi has failed to win the big Hollywood roles she'd hoped for. It's estimated that she spent close to half a million dollars on personal trainers, nutritionists, yoga instructors and various surgical and cosmetic procedures. Those who follow such things say she even had an operation on her knees to lift the sagging skin. Demi showed off her lean, sexy body in 2003, emerging from the sea in a skimpy bikini for Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle.

Since that time, she's appeared in only two films, with two more to be released this fall, while ex-husband Bruce Willis (almost a decade older than she) has appeared in 13.

Demi has said she hoped to overturn the belief that juicy roles should not be given to older actresses, but it doesn't seem to be working out that way, even though she's looking great. And the problem seems to be unique to Hollywood; European filmmakers tend to care much less about it. "If we are told we are not valuable once we hit 30, it is a problem," Demi said. "We have to say, 'I'm mad as hell, and I'm not going to take it anymore.'"

The same article quotes Sharon Stone as saying, "When I went to the Oscars, it was like, 'Oh, there's been an archeological dig and look what we've found, a 40-year-old."

Her body looks great, too, but you don't see too many Sharon Stone movies coming out these days, do you? So maybe Britney Spears should just concentrate on looking like a normal, healthy woman, growing up, finding better friends, getting to know her kids, seeing a good therapist and living a happy life. Even if she starved herself into a size 2 and decided to get serious about a comeback, she'd have to realize that untalented pop stars have an even shorter shelf life than Hollywood actresses.

Sept. 6, 2007

IT’S THE “AGE” OF INSANE FASHION MAGAZINES

Just got home from the hair salon, where, in addition to enhancing the fabulosity of my trademark red mane, I typically spend time researching the treatment of age and beauty in various women’s magazines. Today I struck the mother lode – or should I say “load” – with the September issue of Glamour.

The headline reads “LOOK & FEEL YOUR SEXIEST AT 20, 30, 40 – The hair, the skin, the body, the secrets!” Three beautiful babes are on the cover, identified as “Hot At Every Age! Claire Danes, 28; Queen Latifah, 37; and Mariska Hargitay, 43.” Inside, there are headlines such as “20? 30? 40? Who Cares?,” while the very existence of this issue shows that the editors of Glamour, their advertisers and their presumed readership care very much. In fact, they seem pathologically obsessed with it.

There’s a whole section called the “20, 30, 40 Special – Inspiration for every age” that includes features such as “What Will You Look Like In 20 Years?,” “Look And Feel Your Sexiest at 20, 30, 40” and (my personal favorite) “Everything You Need To Know About Being 20, 30, 40.”

Spread throughout the magazine are pages such as “Look-great ideas at 20, 30, 40.” I learn on this page that the 20s are a great time to live out a travel fantasy (like Claire Danes), the 30s are when you make time for a cause (like Queen Latifah), and the 40s are the time to “be proud! ‘I’m aging like a fine wine and showing young women, look at what you can grow into'” (like Mariska Hargitay). Okay, thinking of yourself as a role model is great, but can’t you travel, work for a cause, or be proud of yourself at any age? What’s with all the categories?

And while we’re at it, what are the 50s the time for? Apparently, they’re the time for death, because there is nary a mention of anyone in this magazine who’s over 49. Yet they keep repeating the mantra, “at every age…at every age…,” as if there were no women over 49. Many women I know who have the digit “5” in their ages, not to mention “6,” “7” or even “8” (one of my dearest friends is a very current 80), might legitimately wonder what the editors of Glamour mean by “every age.”

Of course, they’re not going to target women that old, because their advertisers obviously want to reach the – you guessed it – 20s, 30s and 40s. This is why so many magazines make a point of specifying these decades over and over, month after month. Their advertisers want to sell clothes and skincare products to 20-year-olds and 40-year-olds. My guess is that demographic research has convinced the editors that this is about as wide a net as they can cast and still keep those valued 20-year-olds, who are also – surprise -- turning into a big new market for anti-aging products. So Glamour can have a full-page ad for Aveeno “clear complexion foaming cleanser” (to fight acne) and also one for Neutrogena “anti-oxidant age reverse day lotion” (to fight aging). Gosh, there’s even one full-page ad, for Revlon Age-Defying Makeup, that screams “DEFY AGE” in huge red letters.

More magazine, in contrast, covets advertisers who are selling to women 40-plus, and they try – again, way too hard -- to define themselves in terms of that particular golden demographic. In this magazine, it’s the 20s and 30s who don’t exist. Virtually everything in More is devoted to reminding one of one’s age; I can hardly get through an issue without throwing it across the room. Jeez, give me a break! I’ve ranted about More magazine before and will do so again; for now, let me just say that, although it often contains wonderful writing from insightful contributors (all over 40, of course), it’s based on a concept at odds with my philosophy of truly “ageless living.” Sure, it puts a positive spin on aging, but it also puts a not-so-positive spin on my head by obsessing relentlessly over everybody’s age.

This particular issue of Glamour is just about as bad. I say “just about” because there’s still quite a bit of content that’s more like their usual thing, with no reference to age. They have a spread on “the best fall clothes for your body type” as opposed to “for your age,” and another one on “a power look at every price” as opposed to “for every age.” They include tips for making more money, losing weight and enhancing one’s understanding of the male animal – things women in general truly are interested in. (Aside: I listed those three things according to relative difficulty.)

But then we get to page 253, and the headline: “20, 30, 40…Hot at every age!” Here, we get to see which decade of life all our favorite Hollywood stars (under 50) are currently enjoying. Superimposed in a little circle over each star’s picture is – you guessed it – her age. Who’s 20? Who’s 30? Who’s 40? We have to know! Who’s younger than we would’ve guessed? Who’s older, but passing for younger? Who’s had plastic surgery? (My guess: virtually all.) Have you had enough? Ready to throw the magazine across the room yet?

But then, turn the page, and there’s something that, in spite of the “20, 30, 40” in the headline, I actually like: “Doing it all wrong at 20, 30, 40. Women explain the value of throwing out your timeline.”

All right! We hear from a woman who moved back in with her parents at 31, graduated college at 37, had a baby at 45. No, these are not the same woman. Three different women made choices that ignore the traditional timetable, and they’re glad they did. It’s a great message -- although the parents of the 31-year-old might disagree.

On the very same page, though, is another groaner: “The Perfect Woman In Each Decade.” This pushes me towards the precipice of violent rage, for so many reasons. But here it is: According to a Glamour poll, the perfect woman in her 20s is (for men) Jessica Alba, 26, and (for women) America Ferrera, 23. Men and women agreed on the perfect woman in her 30s; that would be (ugh) Angelina Jolie, 32. Wow, they sure didn’t ask me. They also agreed that the perfect 40-something woman is Salma Hayek, 40.

Does everything have to be broken down into decades? Is our view of ourselves based entirely on the fact that we use a base-10 numerical system?

I turn the page in frustration, and there’s more: “Celebs at 20, 30, 40,” which shows how 40-something stars have changed their looks through the decades, and “We asked guys, what do you love about women in their 20s, in their 30s, in their 40s?” I don’t even want to hear it.

I turn the page again, and this is the worst part of all! “Guess the star’s age! 20? 30? 40? A good outfit never tells. (Bonus points if you can spot the 61-year-old!)” Yes, it actually says this! We see six fashionably-dressed celebrities, but only from the shoulders down. You check a key to see if you guessed right; it turns out that 61-year-old Jaclyn Smith is third from the left.

So, okay, I have to admit, one woman over 49 does appear in this magazine. But does the picture of a headless woman thrown into the mix as a novelty in an age-guessing game really count?

It just goes on and on. In “The Secrets To A Happy Life, three generations of smart, successful women mouth off about what happens to your head and your heart (and your knees!) as you grow from 20, to 30, to 40 and beyond.”

Oh, wait! I’ve spotted someone else over 49! It’s Kathleen Turner, identified as 53, saying, “I had a great time being young, but I have no desire to look the same now.” I find it meaningful that the picture of her they chose to run was taken when she was much younger. It even says, “Turner in her thirties.” Apparently, the editors desire that she look the same.

Even the feature story, “It Took Three Women To Make This Baby,” leads off this way: “When a couple in their forties, an egg donor in her twenties and a surrogate in her thirties used science to create a child…” Normally, I’d find a story like this interesting, but in this context, I’m thinking, “Enough already!”

Towards the back of the magazine, after some luscious fashion spreads, there’s “Look And Feel Your Sexiest At 20, 30, 40!” We learn that Claire Danes thinks her metabolism is slowing down at 28, that Queen Latifah has lost her sexual hangups and is now happily enjoying the “dirty thirties” at 37, and that 43-year-old Mariska Hargitay says, “You hit your forties, and you’re fearless, you’re just unstoppable.”

Okay…

If my blog about this magazine seems unusually long, remember: it did say that it would tell you EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO KNOW about being 20, 30 and 40. So, hey, I had to cover a lot of ground! Now, it’s time to sum up with what I think is wrong with this whole approach.

When I see a magazine like this one, I know I’m on the right track with my beliefs about age. It’s why I write this blog, and one big reason why I perform “My Ship Has Sailed.” My dream is for one’s age to be thought of as essentially meaningless, like one’s shoe size. Maybe someday we’ll get there, but, judging from this magazine, I think it may have to get worse before it gets better. I hope that twenty years from now, my nieces -- for the record, now in their twenties -- will find this old copy of Glamour in a garage sale somewhere and just laugh and laugh.

What does it mean to be in a particular decade of life? This question was on my mind this past weekend, because it was the fourth anniversary of my mom’s death. Mom died of something totally unrelated to her age; the hospital was never forthcoming, but I think she developed an infection there that shut her organs down two days after a routine appendectomy. She’d been in great health all her life, and I think she would’ve lived many years longer. Over the past few days, I’ve been thinking back to where my mom was in her life when she was in “my decade.”

It was totally different. She was dealing with the personal problems of a husband and two daughters; I’m married but have no kids, unless 16 parrots count. (Mom would never have had parrots!) She had a great head for business but no career. I’ve worked all my life as a writer and performer and am only now shifting the career into high gear. Mom and I were so different; she didn’t really share my interests in the arts or theatre or humor. She hadn’t taken care of herself well and in “my decade” underwent a complete facelift; something I wouldn’t need at all and can’t even imagine contemplating for many years. In “my decade,” mom even became widowed; my father died tragically at a young age. She lived for two more decades as a widow, spending most of her time taking care of her grandchildren as they arrived and, as far as I know, not going on even one date for the rest of her life.

So what does it mean to be 20, 30, 40? I say there’s no way to answer that question. I say it’s a stupid question. I can only conclude that it’s a stupid question that sells magazines.

Sept. 5, 2007

MEN: THE GOOD, THE BAD AND THE BALD

Every day, I see stories in the news relating to The Big Age And Beauty Thing, but today it's an embarrassment of riches - mostly embarrassing to men, I'm sorry to say. Where to start?

First of all, did you know that when choosing women to date, men look almost exclusively at appearance? It's true! Let me tell you, I was shocked. Researchers from Indiana University who studied speed daters in Germany found that while women considered such things as wealth and status, commitment to family, good health and, yes, physical appearance, men kept it simple and concentrated on physical appearance. I'm guessing that by "physical appearance" they meant "breast size."

To be fair, women were looking at attractiveness, too. Interestingly, even though they said they were looking at numerous traits, the men they picked tended to match their own self-assessed level of attractiveness. Coincidence? The researchers think not; their report speculates that women know what they can get and aim for men who are about as attractive as themselves. They don't "overshoot" by picking men who are more attractive because a gorgeous man might run off with someone hotter.

This is called "the Jennifer Aniston Principle."

Personally, I think women hesitate to choose men more attractive than themselves because they hate to have to share the bathroom mirror.

Men have always been open about their tendency to rate women by appearance; in fact, I've always hated it when a man would say that a particular woman was "out of his league." Of course, this means that beautiful women will most often get asked out by men who think of themselves as outrageously attractive. Ever date a man like that? Ever want to again?

So the man and the woman are both thinking about relative hotness, but at different levels of awareness and for different reasons. The woman is thinking long term: would he stick around?? The man is thinking in the moment: can I get her to go out with me and sleep with me on this date??

Sometimes I think it's amazing that most of us remain heterosexual.

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It gets worse. Did you know that women are pickier about whom they'll kiss than men are? (I know, another shocker.) A New York State University team surveyed over 1,000 students and learned that women use kissing as a way to assess a man as a potential partner and increase bonding, then later to maintain intimacy and check the status of the relationship. Men, on the other hand, kiss to increase the likelihood of sex, and they're willing to have sex with someone whom they don't find attractive or think is a bad kisser or whom they haven't even kissed at all.

Especially at closing time, after many beers.

It seems that men are driven to have sex with virtually anyone, even someone they would never kiss! Of course, there are women with this attitude; they are called "hookers."

And, to think, women agonize over what flavor of lip gloss to wear.

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Here's another study about men, sex and age that'll make you cringe: Researchers at Stanford University believe that humans live as long as we do because of horny old men. They say that generally, living beings die soon after their reproductive stage ends, but human males are able to continue reproducing long past the age at which females go through menopause. Because men in their 70s are still able to impregnate younger women, and often do, humans have evolved to live well past the age at which women lose their fertility. The implication: we women should be grateful!

The researchers stopped short of saying that post-menopausal women had no real reason to keep on living. Perhaps there are reasons for non-fertile women to exist: for example, to care for the grandchildren if their own daughters run off to live with Hugh Hefner.

Just think, now that we have Viagra, soon we'll all be living for 300 years.

I'm wondering if evolution is perhaps lengthening the time of a woman's fertility as well. I recently heard of a record-setting birth that took place when the woman was 59. The conception was completely natural; she'd taken no fertility treatments. It only makes sense that, as human lifespan increases, the span of fertility will increase as well.

But men will still be chasing 18-year-olds.

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Okay, I've bashed men enough for one day. Though you might not be able to tell so far, this blog is actually for both women and men as we all deal with issues relating to age and attractiveness.

So let's talk about something men typically face with either resignation or blinding fear. That's right: baldness! Humorist Matt Wixon (mwixon@dallasnews.com) has a column about his hair, or lack thereof, in the September 3 issue of The Dallas Morning News. It was inspired by the fact that after using the same photo in the paper for six years, he now has a current one -- one that shows him with a different shirt and, by the way, with decidedly less hair. Wixon's column, besides being really funny, testifies to the pressure men as well as women face to keep looking young and, uh, beautiful.

I love his speculation about where his hair went, especially that a bird might have picked up some of it and used it in a nest. (Birds love our hair; some of my pet parrots like to gently preen and "style" my long locks, while others don't know their own strength and can end up snipping off a strand!) Perhaps his hair is just trapped inside a vacuum cleaner bag, he writes, but maybe it's in an exotic part of the world.

I'm reminded of what Charlie Brown says of Pig Pen's dirt in "A Charlie Brown Christmas": "Think of it as maybe the soil from some great past civilization. Maybe the soil of Ancient Babylon. It staggers the imagination..."

"I'm OK with balding," Wixon continues. "It was a difficult adjustment, however. How could it not be? Our superficial culture values appearance, especially youthful appearance, over just about everything. There is no "aging gracefully" anymore. Nips, tucks and facelifts are the way to go, even if some people eventually look like an off-brand knockoff of a human."

He describes a commercial for Rogaine that ran a few years ago (I never saw this one!): "A man steps up to the camera and, with his wife or girlfriend in the background, asks, 'Will she still feel the same way if I lose my hair?' 'Sure,' he answers to himself. 'She'll just feel it about somebody else.'

"Classic!" Wixon remarks. "I'm not sure if that's more demeaning to men or women."

What a great comment. I swear to God I did not ghostwrite his column. And this is coming from a man. I've got to get a tape to him of my song parody "My Man"; it's about the way women still love their men as they (the men) grow bald and flabby -- at least when they don't resort to those ridiculous combovers.

In spite of that ad campaign, Wixon did try Rogaine, but he stopped using it; it's for mild-to-moderate balding, not Yul-Brynner-style balding. Plus, you have to use it all the time or the hair just falls out. "It's like you're paying protection money to a neighborhood thug," he says. LOVE IT!

Wixon also had to consider that his self-assessment of attractiveness (see today's previous stories) was not high, with or without hair. "It's not as though lack of hair was the only element keeping me from being stunningly handsome," he says.

The picture in the paper is small and didn't print sharply, but I think he looks good. I can't see the very top of his head, though; the photo cuts it off.

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Finally, a sad note about a very funny and talented lady who sang cabaret in Manhattan. Dottie Burman, who wrote and performed humorous songs and also worked as a motivational speaker, helping people get past the "age thing" to do what they wanted at any stage of life, has died. I only just found out, though she died last November.

Dottie was a late bloomer herself. She seems never to have considered her age an obstacle. More of a personality than a trained singer, she nevertheless graced some of Manhattan's most well-known cabaret venues with hilarious songs such as “Age Discrimination,” “Let’s Have A P.C. Holiday” and "When The Palm Trees Grow In Central Park," about the bright side of global warming.

Though we had never met in person, we were mutual fans via phone and e-mail, and I had hoped to visit her the next time I was in New York. She wanted to take me around to her favorite cabaret open mic nights and have me sing for her friends there. But it is not to be.

At least I can remember her by her wonderful songs. Her website is still up, and it's still possible to see some of her performances, read her lyrics - perhaps even to order some CDs.

Sept. 3, 2007

Did you know that, in Boston, it takes on average just 13 days to get in to see the dermatologist for Botox injections, but to get a worrisome mole examined, you'll wait - gasp - NINE WEEKS??

A study by a UC-San Francisco dermatology professor found that in the US, it takes a patient an average of about 26 days to have an appointment with a dermatologist to examine a possibly cancerous mole, yet only eight days for an appointment for Botox injections.

Now, the way I'm thinking, spending up to nine weeks worrying about your mole is going to give you big-time forehead lines, so you could always make the Botox appointment, just to get in. Then, if you're like me and prefer to let your eyebrows roam free, you can feign squeamishness at the sight of the needle (maybe you won't have to feign!) and "change your mind" at the last minute. On your way out the door, you can say, "As long as I'm here, doctor, I've got this mole that really needs to be checked...."

This tactic will work only once -- at least with that doctor -- but it's worth a try. Of course, you could always just think of your possibly cancerous mole as a beauty mark and keep it as long as possible.

The researcher didn't know why Botox patients got preference but speculated that it was because of the higher relative payments for Botox. It's a huge profit center for clinics. My dermatologist told me she's had patients come in for thousands of dollars worth of Botox and other cosmetic treatments in just one session, yet I know from personal experience that the mole screening is just the cost of an office visit, with other payment going to the lab.

And I was surprised when they didn't just say, "Come in tomorrow," when I said I had a suspicious mole. Melanoma is serious business; an acquaintance of mine died of it a couple of years ago, and it's possible to get it at a very young age. I have that pale-pale skin that's highly susceptible, and the small, rough patch was on a part of my body that had suffered a severe sunburn during those carefree (read "stupid") college days. But the receptionist wanted to set up the appointment for about five weeks later. "Wow, is there any way I can get in sooner?" I asked. "We do have a nurse practitioner on staff," she replied, "and she's available this Friday. Would you like to come in then?"

That's what I chose to do, and I did end up seeing the doctor briefly; she came in and also checked out the mole. It did turn out to be cancer, but not melanoma. Basal cell carcinoma doesn't metastasize into surrounding tissue, so it wouldn't have killed me, but it did need to be removed before it got bigger to keep it from disfiguring my gorgeous bod.

There's one other reason why it might take longer for a medical exam. Many dermatologists' offices set aside certain days of the week for cosmetic procedures, because so much of their business is for Botox and the like, so all other appointments are made for the days that are left. A dermatologist will always advise that, once a year, you make a routine appointment to have every square inch of your glorious body checked for suspicious moles.

That sounds like a good idea. As for Botox, if you're in Beverly Hills, you can call 911 and a team of dermatologists will rush over in an ambulance to administer it.

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As long as we're on the subject of cancer, there's a story I just read in the Wall Street Journal that needs to be mentioned here, if only because it illustrates so well my beliefs that "life doesn't happen on a timetable" and that one's numerical age means next to nothing.

Chef Grant Achatz, whose restaurant Alinea was named the best in the country in 2005 by Gourmet magazine, has recently been given a devastating diagnosis: stage 4 cancer of the tongue. With his cancer so far advanced, he's been told by three doctors that the only way he can possibly survive is to have part of his tongue cut out. Imagine being one of the world's most celebrated and creative chefs and having to anticipate life without the ability to taste.

Achatz is 33 years old.

"Well," you may say, after the initial shock, "he's probably spent years smoking!" Achatz, who's described as "skinny and boyish," says he's never had a cigarette in his mouth in his life. Knowing the damage smoking can do to the sense of taste, you believe him.

Not surprisingly, Achatz has been looking for alternative treatments that might let him keep his tongue along with his life. He'll soon begin an intensive combination of chemotherapy and radiation treatments; these may dull his sense of taste slightly as they destroy cancer cells, but not ruin them permanently. His doctor says the sense of taste will slowly return after treatment.

Achatz could end up losing his tongue after all, and, of course, he could die. When I look in the obituaries, I see people of all ages there. This is why I think concepts such as "middle age" are essentially pointless. A twenty-year-old who laughs at "middle-aged" people may be middle-aged himself, and just not know it.

Those who know Achatz are confident that with his talent, he'll go on with or without his tongue. So much of what he does comes from his deep well of visual artistry and conceptual genius. "You could take out his tongue and eyes," says Nick Kokonas, his partner in Alinea. "I can't imagine that he wouldn't be able to overcome any limitations."

May good health come to Grant Achatz. And remember, whatever decade you're in, taste life while you can.

Sept. 1, 2007

Wednesday, I was able to attend the Asian Film Festival here in Dallas and see Regina Park’s excellent new documentary, Never Perfect, about the quest by Asian women to achieve their beauty ideal, particularly by having their features changed surgically.

But what is “ideal”? Can one ever really attain it? And just how Asian is it, as opposed to European? These are the central questions of Never Perfect.

The film introduces us to a young woman of Vietnamese heritage, the baby of the family, still living with her mom in a house that she herself owns – she’s successful at an early age and also owns a number of rental properties -- as she eagerly anticipates moving to Los Angeles and being on her own. Mom is nonplussed, but her daughter wants something new! A new city, she says. And along with her big life change, she has finally decided to get “bigger eyes.” This is something she’s thought about for a long time.

One of the first things I notice about her, aside from her strained relationship with mom, is that she’s had her dark hair highlighted with thick, blond streaks.

It turns out that she has grown up with messages from her mother that she’s not attractive with her Asian eyes, the heavy-lidded kind that don’t have a crease. They look too small. Most of the images she sees in TV and movies show women with more European-looking eyes, and most of her friends have them, too. Eyelid surgery seems almost a rite of passage for them. (The movie doesn’t point this out, but non-Asian girls have these rites too – think rhinoplasty in Beverly Hills and breast augmentation in Dallas.)

Commentary within the film addresses the belief that certain features go along with a particular personality. I suspect that, subconsciously, most of us share this belief to some degree. That’s right, deep within us is some stupid little part of the brain that actually thinks people with weak chins are weak-willed, those with close-set eyes are dishonest, and those with high foreheads are smart. Character flaws are revealed to us through physical flaws. This belief is a holdover from the Middle Ages. If you don’t think it’s still in force, talk with a casting director about it. (I’m always pleased when a casting director “casts against type.”)

So what do almond-shaped, Asian eyes mean? Young girls grow up seeing them as part of an “Asian mystique,” with highly sexualized depictions of Eastern women. Some of the images depict mysterious, stiletto-heeled sexual dynamos, the kind James Bond would take to bed and say “don’t taste like European girls”; others show delicate, traditional “China dolls” who are soft-spoken and submissive to men.

(An aside: I may have unintentionally played into this sexual stereotype in my first blog about this movie; I mentioned that many Western men prefer the look of Asian women to that of European women. I meant this as a good thing, to show that Westerners are open to different standards of beauty. After seeing the film, though, I wonder whether the preferences of those men are primarily a response to the hypersexualized and/or submissive stereotypes of Asian girls.)

The movie doesn’t mention this, but I should point out that the preference for larger, more open eyes may indeed be hard-wired into all of us, and it seems to transcend race. Studies have shown that open eyes are considered more attractive; researchers speculate that this is because they make it easier to see the pupils. Large pupils are interpreted as a sign of attraction.

According to the movie, the first article about the operation called “double eyelid surgery” was published in – surprise -- 1896. It grew in popularity when America put military bases in the Pacific; red light districts grew up around the bases, and the women who were considered most attractive to American G.I.s got the most work and made more money. In the 1950s, during the Korean War, plastic surgeons actually did free work for the prostitutes, though I’m speculating that there was more of a barter system in force.

The film points out that Asian eyes aren’t really slanted; that’s a bizarre stereotype. During times of war, “Japs” were categorized as subhuman and caricatured mercilessly, including those slanted eyes.

Of course, today, actresses such as Sandra Oh portray smart, accomplished women, albeit with some serious psychological issues in the case of her character on Grey’s Anatomy but without the relentless sexual overtones. That’s a big step forward. Still, I wonder if the brilliant, hard-driven, antisocial doctor exemplifies yet a different stereotype of the Asian woman.

There’s also a discussion in the film of mixed-race beauty. One young woman says she’s had the message, “Mixed girls are HOT!” An increasingly popular opinion among Asian girls is that the ideal of beauty is a racial composite.

In an extremely moving scene – and the one that will linger with me the longest -- the camera stays in close-up on an Asian mom, relating sadly that her “mixed” daughter has made it clear that she rejects the “yellow” side of her genetic heritage. Tears finally come as she realizes her daughter is rejecting her.

Back to our main character, and more mom issues. “I love my mom more than anyone else in the world,” she says, “but she’s done a lot of damage to me.” She says she’s fed up with her mom’s expectation that everything must be perfect. As for changing the appearance of her eyes, she says, “This is what I was cultivated to believe.”

Our main character has put off getting her eyelid surgery because she didn’t want to let her mom think she “got to her,” but finally she goes, and part of the operation is shown onscreen. There aren’t rivers of blood or anything, but it’s still the eye, and this is definitely not for the squeamish. The patient is thoroughly medicated and feels nothing, or else there would be a lot of screaming, but come on, it’s THE EYE.

A surgeon tells us that there are different surgeries for different ethnic looks; Taiwan, Japan, etc., are different. Apparently, some ethnicities can get away with doing a larger, more open eye than others. He says you don’t have to lose your ethnic identity – that you’re not creating a non-Asian eye but a more beautiful eye. This relates to another comment made later in the film: “It’s not taking away ethnicity – we’re emulating other Asians.”

Several sets of “before” and “after” pictures are shown; I notice that the “after” eyes don’t look much different but appear to be wearing false lashes. (I wonder if applying false lashes to the heavier-lidded eye would be painstaking if not impossible.) Overall, the change is very subtle, sometimes so slight that an ignorant Westerner might wonder what all the fuss is about.

I worry a little about our patient when she says things such as “It’ll temporarily make me happier” and “My taste in beauty may change.” She does understand that, unlike breast implants, this alteration is something that can’t be undone. But what if she decides in a few months or years that she’s not as happy as she had wanted to be; will she need to have something else done in her quest for perfection? She observes, “You can always be unhappy no matter how perfect things are.” But what is “perfect,” and where does it end? For some women, this can be the start of plastic surgery addiction.

Fortunately, we learn that (so far) she has had no more surgeries. She examines her eyes in a hand mirror; again, the effect is very subtle. She laughs, “I saw my mom, and she said, ‘You should’ve gotten them bigger!’”

On the way out of the theater, I overheard an Asian woman tell her friend, “My mom used to pinch my nose like this and tell me it needed to be smaller.”

Dear mothers, whatever your race, if you are reading this, please realize that your attitudes about attractiveness will affect your daughter’s self-image for the rest of her life. She listens to everything you say. She’ll carry those messages about her nose and her weight and her lips forever. (It can happen with sons, too; Michael Jackson’s father used to call him “Big Nose,” and we’ve seen where that led!) Maybe you’re uncomfortable with your daughter’s eyes or her ankles because they remind you of your awful ex-husband; if so, KEEP IT TO YOURSELF.

Your daughter could react to your comments by developing an eating disorder, or finding a man who reinforces her poor opinion of herself, or simply distancing herself from you, as the young woman in this film did with her own mom. Please find ways to help your daughter feel positive about her looks.

I still feel a rush of sadness when I remember how my mom, who died four years ago, used to criticize my long fingers and long legs. “Don’t talk with your hands,” she’d admonish, or she’d just give me "The Look" when I’d start gesturing. “Don’t take such big steps.” The message was clear; she thought I was too tall. “Your sister is the perfect height,” she once said of my 5-foot-7-inch sibling. She also said my face was thin and that I needed to gain weight in my face. How was I supposed to gain weight in my face? How was I supposed to subtract height?

Fortunately, I was able to keep in mind that this was the same mom who told me not to raise my hand in algebra class so often if I wanted boys to like me. So I stand tall and wear high heels. And, yes, I love my mom…but I still talk with my hands.

August 30, 2007

When I was a very little girl, just trying to figure things out, I developed numerous misconceptions about the way the world works. Here are just a few of them:

For some reason, I thought wars lasted about four years, and then whoever was “ahead” was declared the winner.

I thought that once a woman was married and had sex one time, her body went through some sort of transformation that made her capable of – surprise ! -- automatically becoming pregnant at any moment. (Whew! Glad that one wasn’t true.)

I thought that old people made grammatical errors as part of a kind of “old person’s accent.” In other words, that was just the way old people talked. (This must have been because we lived in a semi-rural area with lots of older people who hadn’t had much education.)

And I thought that the husband was always older than the wife, usually by one or two years. (After all, my daddy was about 1 ½ years older than my mommy.)

On that last one, I turned out to be almost right! The typical husband is indeed older than the wife, though there can be much more of an age difference than my parents had. Ashton and Demi aside, why is it that most unions happen to fall into this pattern? Why are most variations regarded with curiosity?

Researchers at Vienna University were wondering the same thing, and now they say that men have evolved to seek younger women to maximize their chances of reproducing, while women seek slightly older men.

In examining people who had changed partners after having their first child, they found that women looked for men with more resources and status, so they chose someone a little older than themselves. Men picked someone younger than their first partner. (Really???) Researchers also found that a couple were most likely to have a greater number of children if the man was about six years older than the woman. Their conclusion: the age difference is a trait acquired through evolution by both men and women to help create more children.

Question: how come so many men will say that their ideal woman looks 18 and is on the pill?

Men seem to have a curious dichotomy between what their evolution-programmed loins tell them and what their conscious minds do. (We could have a discussion right now about the special gift many men have of compartmentalizing EVERYTHING IN THEIR LIVES, but I’ll save that for a future rant.) Here are their loins, whispering to the men, “We must make babies…we must make babies…as many babies as possible…” (Men also tend to quantify everything, don’t they?) And, except in the case of rap musicians, here also are their conscious minds, warning, “We must not make babies…no babies…too much commitment…too much child support…”

You’d think that, consciously, the man would be on the prowl for an attractive babe who’s coming to the end of her childbearing years. But the loins still win out. This is why humans – with the possible exception of the Europeans and Japanese -- are still being fruitful and multiplying even though the world’s population is over 5 billion and counting! It also explains the staggering backlog of child support cases.

On the other hand, loins can be fooled. The right sexy clothes and strategically-designed lingerie can enhance a woman’s curves and help create the bountiful breasts and youthful proportions that suggest fertility. If the breasts still aren’t bountiful, a plastic surgeon can transform them, and virtually everything else, to suggest that this woman is a genetically-perfect baby machine. Everything from body lotions to hair thickeners to lip plumpers is designed to create the lusciousness associated with a young, fertile hottie.

Thus, the loins are satisfied. Still, the conscious mind, completely at odds with the loins but helpless to oppose them, always makes sure the man is carrying condoms.

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The other day, I wrote about the pressure on Asian girls to have their eyes “westernized” through plastic surgery. Well, last night I saw “Never Perfect,” the documentary about a woman who must decide whether “to crease or not to crease.” I hope you’ll look for my commentary in tomorrow’s blog!

August 29, 2007

As we hear over and over in the news every day, the baby boomers are "AGING." Here's the Aging Baby Boomer Story Of The Day:

Orthopedic surgeons in New York report that they are seeing a growing number of baby boomers who suffer such severe knee pain and other discomforts that they can't even walk up stairs any more. (Related Aging Baby Boomer Story: the trend towards all-on-one-floor living.)

The arthritic finger points to one person: Jane Fonda! Whether you're a flower child who admired her anti-war protests during Vietnam or a patriot who condemned her for them, Jane has brought you all together in communal misery. She is to blame for your creaky joints and limited range of motion.

As the reasoning goes, those wildly popular aerobics videos she made in the '80s caused people to plunge into high-impact exercise, pounding their joints on three-tiered steps. (Of course, today, we know better; we pound our joints on treadmills.) Some of today's sore, arthritic baby boomers have blamed Jane for their pain, although I'm thinking it might just be related to a lack of circulation caused by too-tight leg warmers.

I wonder if their knees hurt more when it rains. Of course, even if the weather is a factor, sufferers will still insist that the pain in rain is mainly caused by Jane.

Jane herself might tell you that those videos were too extreme. She has said that at the time she made them, she was suffering from an eating disorder; it appears she had what we might call an "exercise addiction" as well. Over the years, she's softened her look considerably.

Of course, Jane can say from personal experience that it's easier on the knees to just sit on the turret of a communist anti-aircraft gun, yet even that can cause strain in the lower back.

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This story appears just as more studies tell us that people of all ages are getting fatter and fatter and will eventually pop after finally eating one too many chicken wings. Mississippi - ironically, the home of the most beauty pageant winners - is the fattest state of all. Hardly anyone seems capable of pushing away from the table any more, let alone exercising. What on earth happened to change "Let's Get Physical" to "Let's Get Liposuction"? When did "lean and mean" become "gross and adipose"?

It seems that this problem will only get worse until people can't get through their front doors to go get more food. Of course, there's always delivery. But when even the Dominos drivers are no longer able to fit into their cars, obesity will be halted in its tracks.

By the way, the State Fair Of Texas opens in a few weeks - I happen to live in Dallas, home of the fair - and the news is full of all the deep fried fattiness that's going to be served up. Here are this year's Seven Deadly Sins: fried Frito pie, fried guacamole, fried peach cobbler on a stick, fried sweet potato pie, fried banana pudding, fried cookie dough, and the most talked about, the deep fried latte. This is a fried pastry topped with cappuccino ice cream, caramel sauce, whipped cream and instant coffee powder.

Of course, the deep fried latte is at its best when served with a donut.

To my relief, my husband has said he won't be eating this overpriced glob of sugar, fat and fried gunk at the fair. But only because he doesn't like coffee.

Great news for everyone who eats it: the oil it's fried in is TRANS-FAT FREE!

Coincidentally, today's "Oprah" featured her favorite physician, Dr. Oz, talking about how to eat healthy. He first looked at portion control, comparing today's typical serving sizes with those from 20 years ago. No wonder our clothes are straining at the seams! We're used to seeing supersized food, and if, as our moms used to say, our eyes are bigger than our stomachs, we solve that problem by gradually stretching our stomachs.

Dr. Oz then looked at the bad ingredients in processed foods: sugar, trans-fats (hydrogenated oils), high fructose corn syrup, enriched products (this means they've been refined), and saturated fats "from four-legged animals." He cleaned out one woman's fridge and pantry, taught her how to read a nutrition label and put her on a "diet makeover" that dramatically changed her appearance, health and outlook. Dr. Oz's regimen was similar to Dr. Perricone's; he had this woman throwing out her "fake," sugary, artery-clogging processed foods and eating salmon, olive oil and fresh vegetables instead. After a few months on this program, she seemed like a different - and much happier -- person.

(This might be a good time to mention that taking fish oil often works wonders on those joints ravaged by Jane Fonda's exercise routines.)

You may wonder why I'm spending so much time talking about weight; isn't this blog about age and looking young? Yes, but when I say that "age is the last big culturally-acceptable bias," I'm talking about the age one is and the age one looks. We associate a slim, healthy body with youth. With few exceptions, a woman who carries extra weight is judged to be considerably older than she would if she were slender and fit. She's dubbed "matronly" and placed in the same category with women who have wrinkles or gray hair. (Of course, it's also possible to go too far the other way; the starving, sinewy, anorexic look - think Victoria Beckham - is unhealthy, unflattering and extremely aging.) Yes, the overall issue here is age and ageism, but I consider age, beauty and weight to be just different sides of the same three-sided coin.

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Well, enough on that weighty subject. Here's still more on "aging rockers."

According to the Reuters news service, German music fans are being subjected this year to a deluge of older acts from America: Aerosmith, Genesis, The Stones, The Who, Black Sabbath, Lou Reed, Meat Loaf, the Police, and more. Critics admit that some are still making good music but say that others should give it up and retire. They say Peter Gabriel needed a TelePrompter to remember the words to his own songs, and one critic complains that Ozzy Osbourne kept screaming, "I can't (bleeping) hear you!" over and over. He writes, "You felt like shouting back, 'Buy a (bleep) hearing aid, and maybe you'll realize you're singing everything off-key!"

Of course, younger singers don't sing off-key; the tracks they lip-synch to are always perfectly in tune. And you know, that critic wasn't being fair; Ozzy couldn't hear the audience not because his ears are shot but because there wasn't one.

Fans were especially upset that Steven Tyler of Aerosmith had lost his boyish good looks.

August 28, 2007

No long essays today, just two silly news items and a video from my show, "My Ship Has Sailed."

First up, a team of obviously very lonely mathematicians at Cambridge University determined that Jessica Alba has the perfect sexy wiggle when she walks.

They claim they calculated that what makes a woman sway when she walks is the ratio of hips to waist size, and the perfect ratio for a sexy walk is 0.7. (This just gets more and more scientific as it goes along.) That would be, for instance, 36 inch hips and a 25 inch waist. Marilyn Monroe was very close with a 0.69 ratio, but after a no-doubt intensive study of photos of Jessica Alba on the Internet, the mathematicians said Alba is a perfect 0.7.

Okay, so explain Beyonce.

I have a feeling there is much more to learn in this vital field of study, such as the impact on the walk caused by the length of the legs or the height of the stiletto heels; but that would require advanced calculus and possibly quantum mechanics, so they'll need a few more years to work on it.

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Meanwhile, researchers at the University of Wisconsin-Madison found that Viagra not only improves a man's sexual performance, it can also boost levels of oxytocin, the so-called "cuddle chemical" produced by the brain that promotes bonding and romantic feelings. They say this means Viagra not only can help men get erections but also make them more loving.

This must be why gobbling all that Viagra has made Hugh Hefner stop sleeping with five girlfriends and bond to only three. And they're all virtually identical, so it's practically like he's monogamous!

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Finally, speaking of all the ways that science has enhanced our attractiveness, I thought I'd share this with you so newcomers can learn what I'm all about. It's a clip from one of my live performances of "My Ship Has Sailed," a song I wrote that marries a popular melody to the names of some of the many, many anti-aging products that promise us the glow of eternal youth. Enjoy!

August 25, 2007

If ageism is so much a part of our culture that it simply doesn't seem all that bad, check out a few nightclub reviews and see how they hit you. These reviews, in addition to rating the quality of the sound system, the strength of the drinks and the general vibe, typically go on to describe the clientele in terms of looks, fashion sense and, of course, age. This is necessary so that people can be with others at the same level of coolness. If a club "skews old," it's automatically less hip. In fact, its hipness rating varies inversely with the average age of the patrons - the lower the age, the higher the rating.

I've just learned that this attitude may be primarily an American phenomenon. The following excerpt from a review by Lesley Tellez of a downtown Dallas club called the Mambo Café speaks volumes:

"This isn't strictly a young person's club - we saw patrons who looked like they could be 60. That's common in Latin cultures..."

See, it has to be explained to us that in some places, older people actually go dancing in nightclubs patronized by younger people! Who woulda thunk it? Normally, we just wouldn't expect to see that. We're talking about one o'clock in the morning here, and it's common knowledge that everybody over about 35 is asleep by nine. Strange, those Latinos! If you're a non-Latino in your 20s, and you're uncomfortable with seeing 60-year-old couples dancing, you've been duly warned.

I've experienced a little of this prejudice myself as a performer in nightclubs, not towards myself, but towards some of the older members of my audience. Of course, my philosophy is to do a show that's enjoyed by people of all ages, especially women, but one club manager told me she hoped My Ship Has Sailed wouldn't "skew too old." She explained that most of their acts draw a younger crowd, and older people - particularly older women - don't drink. (The bar is their main source of revenue.) I'm not sure where she got this notion; maybe she hasn't shared a Happy Hour with some of the "older" women I know, but that was her perception.

And, wouldn't you know, that particular night's performance was attended by a huge crowd of Red Hats. They were a fantastic audience, but the manager had to notice that they brought the average age up considerably. She told me afterwards that most of them ordered iced tea.

The rest asked for water.

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Let's move on to another cultural issue, this one involving Asian women.

The Asian Film Festival, going on in Dallas from the 23rd to the 30th of August, features the premiere (Wed., 7:30, Magnolia Theatre) of a documentary by Regina Park called "Never Perfect," which examines the struggle of a young Vietnamese woman as she decides whether or not to get blepharoplasty, or eyelid plastic surgery.

This apparently is a huge issue for Asian girls, but one that hasn't often been discussed. After the screening, a panel discussion will be held on "beauty and the Asian woman." According to Ms. Park, "there is a question why more and more women subject themselves to time-consuming, expensive and sometimes painful processes in their quest for physical perfection. Yet this constant striving to reach a beauty ideal to accompany their other academic, career, material and personal achievements is steeped in a profoundly fundamental question of identity and is not simply a matter of an individual's personal aesthetic choice."

The film's main character has been told by her mother that she can't be beautiful without bigger eyes. How very sad. (I do think that, even within their wider culture, the biggest message girls around the world get about their own attractiveness is from their mothers.) This girl has grown up in the United States, with the American image of beauty all around her, but she also is proud of her Vietnamese heritage. What to do?

I don't know what she decides, but I'll try to get to the screening - and the discussion - next Wednesday to find out.

The ironic thing, to me, is that I think the "Asian" eye is exotic and lovely. Many, many Western people agree. I know men who think a petite Asian woman with almond eyes and straight, black hair is more beautiful than a tall, blue-eyed American blonde. An Asian woman, even here in America, does not have to have 'the crease" to be considered beautiful. This is something that has become an issue within the Asian community.

The other irony, as a personal note: my grandmother on my father's side had eyelids without creases; she was of German descent and my mom called it "the Germanic eye." My dad's eyelids were a little puffy, too; as he got older, he probably could have benefited from very conservative eyelid surgery, just to see better. When I was a kid, I thought maybe I'd grow up to have "the Germanic eye," too, and I really didn't want it, not because it isn't pretty - it certainly can be; consider Ava Gardner - but mostly because I just didn't want to mimic that particular grandmother in any way (long story). As luck would have it, though, my eyes developed such well-defined lids and such a deep crease that the other day, a makeup artist highlighted the crease to de-emphasize it.

It seemed I had too much crease.

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Finally, here's a cool item from the news....

Mike Flynt got into a fight and was kicked off the football team of Sul Ross State University in Alpine, Texas, before his senior year in 1971. He's regretted it ever since, even as he became a strength and conditioning coach and invented the Powerbase training system. He's now 59, in great shape (I can vouch for strength training as being one of the best age-fighting methods), and he's convinced his wife to move back to Alpine, where he is about to become the oldest college football player on record.

Former teammates told him he's an idiot and will get killed, and his wife said she feels like she's married to Peter Pan (that can be creepy; ask Lisa Marie Presley). But Flynt, a man after my own heart, believes that age is just a number. He has a surprisingly tight end, and unlike many men his age, is not an extremely wide receiver. He said he wants to show others that with the right physical training, you're only as old as you feel.

Until you get killed.

Anyway, I say three cheers for Mike Flynt! Let's all hope he isn't sacked by a bunch of 300-pound 20-year-olds, which can make you feel about 110.

August 24, 2007

Okay, so many of us are playing "the numbers game." We think, "I'm 43, but if I use this product and do this and this and dress like this, I can pass for 38." Of course, the 38-year-old is thinking, "I'm 38, but I can pass for 29." Those of you who are single take this strategy into the dating arena.

But what about online dating? What if a prospective date isn't looking at you in person, but only in a digitized photo, which can be enhanced in any number of ways? Do you go ahead and give your correct age, or do you fudge it?

A recent article in the New York Post (sorry, can’t find it online) addresses the issue of age and online dating. Stacy Kravetz, author of The Dating Race: An Undercover Report from the Front Lines of Modern-Day Romance, explains why age is even more important in the online world:

"Online dating only magnifies the issue, because we're given the option of pre-selecting for all the characteristics we find important, including age. And we get all this information about a potential date before we've even decided whether to meet them. So age becomes even more important, because we're using it as a criterion before a date, rather than a piece of information we learn on the date itself."

It seems to me that, in a way, online dating is similar to the idea of "designer babies." Chances are overwhelming that once her baby is born, a mother is going to love that baby exactly the same whether it has dark hair, red hair or blond. But if she has the chance to pre-select her baby's hair color, she most likely will choose blond hair...along with big blue eyes, fair skin and a tall, slender build. People looking for a mate do the same thing with characteristics such as age.

In the old-fashioned, face-to-face world, youthfulness will definitely be assessed, but there's at least a chance for something to "click" -- maybe it's pheromones, or a quick sense of humor -- and for the couple to start getting to know each other before the question, "How old are you?" is asked.

So, online dating is very different from the other kind. The New York Post article asks several online daters how they cope with the age issue. For example, when asked how many years she shaves off her age, 38-year-old Cozette says this:

"I delete four years. It's closer to the age most people guess I am, and it's closer to the age I feel."

Interestingly, she goes on to say, "When I posted my real age, I didn't get any emails for the first two months. Not one. So I changed it to 34 and within days I had literally hundreds of responses. So far, no one has ever questioned it."

We learn from this that 34 is okay, but that 38 is too old, even though a 38-year-old is dating people who are fine with her just as she is, as long as they think she's 34. Four little years can apparently be a very big deal.

Debbie, 53, answers, "I say I'm 47 because that's around the age I'm looking for in a date. I've had a lot more emails since I adjusted my age. Now people I'm interested in - and the ones who are interested in me - are actually finding me."

Has she considered that many of the men who find her are also 53 but passing for 47? Does she realize that when she says, "That's around the age I'm looking for in a date," she's doing the same thing the men are? Is the meaninglessness of "the number" starting to sink in?

Fifty-year-old Pamela reduces her age by three years. "We all discount our ages - you have to since people are using age ranges as part of their search criteria. If you're fit, attractive and hoping to meet the same, you have to lower your age."

I can understand why she doesn't want to say she's 50. We can talk all we want about 50 being "the new 30," but that's only true if you pass for 30. One 50-year-old single friend of mine told me she sits with her dates over coffee and watches the expression in their eyes change when she tells them she's 50. These are men her own age and up. It seems to be something about the sound of the word, and the weight people give to it when they say it. I'm reminded of Molly Shannon's horrifying comedy sketch on "Saturday Night Live," in which she plays the frazzled, potbellied lady in the red jumpsuit who screams, "I'M FIFTY YEARS OLD! FIFTY! FIFTY YEARS OLD!"

Rita Rudner told me she's writing a book about turning 50 called "I'm Filthy," which is as close as she can come to saying the word. And I've heard from many women that once people know you're 50, it's all about how old you are. If you look great, you look great "for 50" or "for someone your age."

If you're proud of your age and want to tell it, fine. I'm proud of mine, but I still don't tell it, simply because I refuse to play along with the stupid "numbers game." (Hey, I'm proud of my fabulous bod, too, but I don't walk down the street naked.) In fact, I've come to believe that when a woman insists on telling you her age within thirty seconds of meeting her, it's for one of two reasons. Either she looks considerably older than she really is and doesn't want you to think she's that old, or she looks considerably younger than most women her age and is fishing for compliments. It also suggests to me that she's been reading too many issues of More magazine and is absolutely obsessed with the whole age thing.

As the model in a current commercial for Roc skin products says, "When you look ten years younger than you are, you're proud to tell your age." How confused a message is that??

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And now, a little something from the news:

Dawn Brooke of Guernsey, England, set a new world record by giving birth to a son at 59, becoming the oldest known natural mother who got pregnant without fertility treatment or any drugs (does that include Viagra?) Brooke gave birth in 1997, and her son is now 10, but she and her husband Raymond kept it quiet until now to shield him from publicity. Raymond, who was 64 when his wife got pregnant at 59, said they're overjoyed to have their son, but the pregnancy was unplanned and came as a shock to them both. And, I'll bet, to their grandchildren.

This is all very heartwarming, but we all know it’s just not natural for men in their 60s to be impregnating women in their 50s. According to all the showbiz news outlets, men in their 60s are supposed to be impregnating women in their 20s.

August 23, 2007

As promised, all my "Age of Love" recaps are now on one page, in order. Pour a stiff drink and click away.

And if you'd like to add your two cents, you can now put comments on my mirror blog site at LauraAinsworth.blogspot.com...

August 22, 2007

NOT MUCH HAS CHANGED IN THREE CENTURIES

I wonder if there's anyone reading this who has not yet started receiving those catalogs -- obviously targeted to women 35-plus -- with names like "Time For Me," "My Time" and "It's Long Past Time To Take A Little Time For Myself, Dammit!"

They feature dreamy bedding, exotic caftans and novel accessories. They also hawk a numbing array of anti-aging treatments, with ridiculously unlikely before-and-after pictures of eyes, lips and jawlines; a variety of Spandex figure-tamers; easy-fitting shoes and padded shoe inserts; lacy incontinence briefs (these do look pretty sexy!); and even some very creative and colorful vibrators.

The message: you're getting older by the minute, every square inch of your face and neck needs serious and targeted help, your body's starting to fall apart, you have a bladder control problem, and you're probably alone.

I've seen some comforter sets and a few long, imported skirts that were really pretty, but I have to wonder: if I actually order anything from one of these catalogs, what other mailing lists will I be put on? Even now, for some reason, I'm on the mailing list for the Lane Bryant catalog, when I'm so skinny that friends are always trying to feed me. I called and asked them to remove me from the list, and they said they would, but they never did, so I just keep tossing it in the trash. Another poor tree lost its life for nothing.

But the main reason I don't order from those catalogs is my enormous skepticism regarding many of the products they sell. I know that those creams that "eliminate cellulite" and "erase spider veins" absolutely do not work, so why should I believe the claims made about any of the other products, and why should I respect the company enough to buy anything at all, even a duvet cover?

You know, as I turn the pages and examine those anti-aging "cures," which I'm sure many women believe in and buy (and when the latest one doesn't work, try another one), I wonder how a publication such as this might be viewed in 20 years or so. People will probably roll their eyes at the phony claims, virtually all of them by then conclusively proven false. They might consider today's examples of snake-oil-in-a-jar the same way we look at the skin treatments, female cures and other "medicinals" in the 1905 Sears catalog, or even in the 1694 manual, "The Ladies Dictionary: being a General Entertainment for the Fair Sex," an edition of which is going on the auction block on September 11, according to Britain's Daily Mail.

This book, described by book specialist Matthew Haley as "the Cosmopolitan magazine of its day," devotes much of its content to beauty advice. I'm not sure how much of this relates to anti-aging, as the average life expectancy in the 17th Century was probably about 35, but women had the same concerns about weight, flabby flesh and rough skin.

Regarding weight, being too skinny was ill-advised, as one can probably discern from the full-figured portraits of the day. I love the way this is expressed in the book: "Bodies that are very Lean and Scragged, we must own, cannot be very Comely. It is a contrary Extream to Corpulency and the Parties Face always seems to carry Lent in it." You'd think they'd been looking at a picture of Victoria Beckham! Poor starving little wretch. But instead of feeding her, I'll bet Victoria's friends are having a contest to see who can be the most scragged.

Plumpness was in fashion in the 1600s, but even then, there was such a thing as "too fat." (In other words, they'd think Kirstie Alley used to be too fat, but is perfect now.) To lose weight quickly, women were advised to bathe in claret wine infused with wormwood, calamint, chamomile, sage and squinath (the flowers of a kind of rush). Now, before you laugh, think of all those lavish spa treatments that are supposed to banish inches, remove cellulite, etc. They're incredibly expensive - a "series" of them is always prescribed -- and are very relaxing but do nothing to solve the cellulite problem! You may feel smoother and perhaps a little energized for a time, but your cellulite has NOT gone away. I'll bet those 17th Century women felt better after bathing in claret, too, especially if they drank a little of it. Before adding the wormwood, of course.

Today's spas offer an array of "mineral" baths and facials. A dermatologist will tell you (as she told me) that the skin does not absorb minerals. As for "flushing toxins out of the body," those treatments don't do that, either. If you want to get rid of toxins, try eating purer food in the first place and drinking a lot of water. And, remember, many bottled waters are really just tap water. "PWS" on the label means "public water source." In twenty years, people will regard old bottles of Aquafina as quaint, humorous collectibles.

Well, back to the 17th Century. Women in those days had the same concerns we do about "wobbly bits" - those flabby or saggy areas. They were told to apply "to the place that Languishes, or does not equally Thrive" a disgusting mixture of chicken and goose grease, pine, rosin, pitch and turpentine, mixed in an earthenware pot. Then, they were to wait until it hardened into a plaster. This might take all afternoon; maybe girlfriends would meet for "plaster" parties, drink a little claret, and sign each others' casts!

Of course, this procedure did nothing but make the woman smell like rancid fat and gasoline, compounding her lack of attractiveness to the opposite sex. If Juliet's nurse had treated her with this, Romeo would've stayed far, far away.

The book also describes a similar remedy for breasts: "Breasts hanging down or large; how to make them Plump and Round." No plastic surgery necessary - and in 1694, going under the knife was not a good idea!

Science has come a long way in the past 300 years or so, but in many ways, our wishes keep us willfully mired in the ignorant past. Some of the priciest spa treatments and face creams offered today are no more "anti-aging" than goose grease was in the days of yore. If you really want to feel better and soften those fine lines, take a walk, enjoy some wild salmon and fresh vegetables, read a good book, and drink a little claret.

Or if you just want to feel better, drink a lot of claret.

August 21, 2007

KEEPING YOUNG AND BEAUTIFUL IN LAS VEGAS

What incredible luck! As I prepare for a move to Las Vegas, with the goal of singing "Keep Young And Beautiful" on a Vegas stage until I'm, oh, 90 or so, I find out that I'm relocating to the home of a 21st Century fountain of youth. Talk about hitting the jackpot.

As I've said before, every day holds the promise of yet another news story using (sigh) "aging baby boomers" as a taking-off point, and here's one for today, from the London Daily Telegraph:

Cenegenics Medical Institute, or CMI, in Las Vegas, promises to sculpt rippling abs, smooth the skin, and "boost performance from the office to the gym to the bedroom." Over 13,000 clients, including a few Brits, have made the pilgrimage to Las Vegas to shell out for a $3,000 consultation and up to $13,000 worth of exercise and diet regimens, vitamins and hormone replacement therapy.

Most patients receive testosterone, and about 20 percent also are prescribed injections of human growth hormone, or HGH. The founder of Cenegenics, radiologist Dr. Alan Mintz, said in an interview last year that HGH causes a decrease in fat, an improvement in the skin, an increase in muscle, improved mood and heightened sexual activity. It's like turning back the clock. "Next year does not have to be worse than this year," the article quotes him as saying. "How about good sexual activity with your loved one once a week, twice a week, feeling good about it?"

Well, how about it? That sounds great! But Dr. Mintz is not having any sexual activity now, and even Viagra won't help, because this June, at the age of 69, he passed on to the Great Gymnasium In The Sky. His death raises a red flag because normal life expectancy for the average non-HGH-supplemented man is 74.

How exactly did he die? Well, we don't quite know. According to Dr. Jeffry Life (yes that's his name), a CMI staffer and Dr. Mintz's personal physician, he died from a brain hemmorhage brought on by an accident in the gym.

My husband just looked at me from his reclining chair and laughed, "What have I always said? Exercise is bad for you." (Sadly, he means that.)

I'm wondering if we'll ever know the whole story of how this man died. Critics of HGH injection therapy say there's no evidence it helps and that it may be dangerous. One of those critics happens to be my favorite anti-aging doctor - if you've seen my show, you know I worship him, literally - Dr. Nicholas Perricone, M.D. In his book, The Perricone Promise, he says HGH is "the true youth hormone. It builds muscle, increases the vitality of the body's organ systems, and decreases the levels of the stress hormone cortisol. It would be helpful to increase the amount of HGH the body produces; however, there are many questions and concerns about the safety profile and side effects of administering HGH directly into the system."

He advises that one way to maximize the body's own HGH production is to avoid food that causes a rapid rise in blood sugar. (I suggest reading all of Dr. Perricone's books to get a handle on how to keep your blood sugar at a near-constant level. This is the best anti-aging thing you can do!) The quality and quantity of sleep are also very important; don't exercise within four hours of going to bed or drink coffee or alcohol late in the evening. In fact, it's best not to drink coffee at all; tea is much better. As for supplementation, Dr. Perricone has developed a thymic peptide supplement; he explains that thymic peptides work like thymus gland hormones to stimulate the pituitary gland to release HGH. This also helps the body overcome what Dr. Perricone calls "thymic menopause," a gradual shrinking of the thymus gland that causes a weakening of the immune system.

I haven't tried the thymic peptide supplement and would like to see some studies on thymus hormones and HGH levels. But Dr. Perricone has long been on the cutting age of researach on the inflammation/aging connection and other areas that are just now becoming mainstream. And I can tell you that I'd definitely try the thymic peptides before getting injected directly with HGH!

In fact, I'm a little worried about Debby Harry, the singer for the group, Blondie. In late July, she talked with The Insider about her Herculean anti-aging efforts. First, she admits to "essential" plastic surgery. Okay, that's not a big deal, especially for performers, but then she reveals she's also had HGH injections and "cell therapy," which involves injections from the embryos of black sheep. Hmm, why just the black ones? Maybe it's to help keep the skin wrinkle-free; after all, as Oprah has said, "Black don't crack."

Harry said that when it comes to fighting the effects of aging, she has tried everything. In her mind, we have a choice: "What else can one do, besides going out looking miserable or looking fabulous?"

Well, if we're not careful and bet on unproven and dangerous treatments, there's a third choice: we can lose everything. The casket can be left open for the mourners to admit our smooth faces, and our midriffs left bare to reveal our rippling abs.

August 19, 2007

THERE SHE GOES AGAIN - Can't get off the "baby boomer" thing (see yesterday's rant, below).

Did you know the baby boomers have a social conscience? They do, really! I know this because I read it in the paper, in yet another article about those very-very-special baby boomers. Now that they're empty-nesters and don't need to make big bucks anymore - never mind the many people between 40 and 60 who are still paying for their kids' and possibly grandkids' college - they're devoting themselves to lower-paying but presumably more satisfying jobs, such as teaching or nursing.

Nothing wrong with that! We definitely need more teachers and nurses, and these are noble callings, so a trend in that direction is a great thing. It's ironic, though, that when the oldest baby boomer women were preparing for careers in the 1960s, the main jobs open to them were in - you guessed it - teaching and nursing. Woorking in the lower-paying, "caring" professions may be something new for most men, but older boomer women who are disenchanted with their careers and now want to teach have simply come full circle.

In contrast, it was a different world for boomer women who entered the workforce twenty years later and are now in their early 40s. Feminists -- the older baby boomer women - had paved the way for them, and they took for granted that they could go into just about any field they liked. Teaching or nursing? Puh-leeze!

But now, according to the article I just read, all the baby boomers, disillusioned by their unfulfilling but lucrative corporate jobs, can finally feel good about going into an altruistic field such as nursing. In fact, the younger ones had better become nurses as soon as possible, because the older ones will be needing nursing care from them.
That's because the demographic category we call "baby boomer" spans twenty years! Somebody just made it up, you know. (I wish I knew who it was, so I could find a way to pay him back for all the torment he has caused me.) All it really means is that parents tended to have relatively large families during the years they were born, but culture "experts" have imposed meaning on it that it just doesn't have.

To cite just one example, in the latest incarnation of corporate snake-oil, consultants are making big bucks telling clueless business executives that baby boomers are, let's say, team players who want the corner office while Gen-Xers are iconoclasts who aren't motivated by traditional perks. To me, this kind of gross generalization about individuals of particular ages is nearly as repugnant as saying that blacks are shiftless but might be motivated by watermelon in the break room.

And think about it: the oldest baby boomers were at Woodstock, wearing tie-dye and listening to Hendrix. Twenty years later, the youngest boomers were at the mall, wearing giant shoulder pads and listening to Huey Lewis & The News. Older boomers might even have conceived their children at Woodstock, who would then have grown up to be the younger boomers. Even discounting normal individual variation, what can the two ends of this wide spectrum possibly have in common?

Yet, day after day, we're bombarded with news stories about those darn baby boomers - who are "aging," you know, unlike other people, who presumably are staying the same age - and all the ways they're turning the world on its head. Seemingly in lockstep, THEY do this, and THEY do that. Most of all, THEY are getting older by the minute, and not a day goes by that they're not reminded of it multiple times, in advertising, in feature stories, on virtually every page of More magazine, and even in ageist comments tossed gratuitously into entertainment reviews (see previous blog entry).

It's really getting, pardon the expression, old.

And, personally, I don't see baby boomers as being all that revolutionary as long as they allow themselves to be dealt with in this way. The older ones were at the forefront of change: civil rights, women's rights. Why do they now play along with the push to identify them with an arbitrary age group and a description that may not fit them at all, just so some twenty-something Madison Avenue marketing whiz can more easily sell them things? Perhaps the endless talk about aging has made them feel too old and tired to stand up and proclaim:

I...AM ...NOT...A DEMOGRAPHIC!

...I'm saying this only because I have a social conscience.

August 18, 2007

Here's a pet peeve that many undoubtedly share: the "boomer rock" concert review that dwells as much on the aging fans in the audience as it does on the band.

And when it does talk about the band, it not only tells us how young or old the music seems now, but also how well or poorly the band members have aged. The critic apparently expects them to look like their own grandparents, and sometimes they fulfill that expectation. If they do, he smugly points this out to us, and if they don't, he speaks of them as if they're shocking freaks of nature.

Example (and inspiration for today's blog): the review of Patty Smyth's concert in the August 17 edition of The Dallas Morning News, written by staff critic Mario Tarradell. Mr. Tarradell simply cannot believe that Patty Smyth, at 50, can look so youthful! He writes, "She's almost criminal, that Patty Smyth...(after 23 years) the New York native looks and sounds as if not a day has gone by. Surely she's made a devious plot for eternal youth with somebody." And, "Ms. Smyth sang with such joyful abandon. She may be 50, but she moves like she's 30."

Overall, it was a glowing review of both her and her band, Scandal, and she should feel complimented and proud. At the same time, is it not possible to compliment a 50-year-old woman on her performance without giving the back of one's hand to the idea of being 50? What was he expecting, for her to hobble out on her artificial knees and try to recreate some approximation of her former glory?

How does a 30-year-old move, by the way? I've seen many who couldn't dance a lick and some who could hardly get up from a reclining chair. That goes for some 10-year-olds, too. And the idea that a performer has to make some sort of pact with Satan to remain attractive and current really chafes me.

You see, this is why, as a performer, I don't tell people my age. I don't want people telling me I look great on stage "for my age." I don't want them to have "the number" in their heads constantly and to be filtering everything I say through their idea of what a person "that age" is. People do this. It's a culturally-acceptable bias. I'm sick of it, and I refuse to play the numbers game.

A female performer doesn't have to be very old to get sucked into it. I've heard disparaging age-related comments about the Dixie Chicks (in their 30s, aren't they?) and the Spice Girls (likewise?), among many others. Forget Madonna; these are the new old ladies of pop music. It's the rare review of Sheryl Crow that doesn't make an issue of her age (early 40s, I think). She looks great not because of any pact with Beelzebub but because she takes good care of herself and follows the advice of Dr. Perricone, as do I.

Here's one more example of ageist music criticism, another review from The Dallas Morning News, this one by staff writer Mike Daniel on August 13. Now, we have to stipulate that Rush goes back a long time; indeed, the review tells us that Rush is 39 years old. Not the musicians, the band. So, of course, the audience is going to be all grown up. Some - not me -- call them "baby boomers," or just "boomers." Mr. Daniel writes: "Baby boomers dominating the crowd of 15,000 at Smirnoff Music Centre on Saturday night may not have looked broad-minded, but in spirit and action, they were."

Jeez, another backhanded compliment. You wouldn't have thought people their age would be broad-minded. Mr. Daniel, please tell me, what does a broad-minded person look like? Do you assume he's the young, edgy-looking guy? I'm thinking he might look more like Drew Carey.

Mr. Daniel goes on: "Guitarist Alex Lifeson looked the most like he's in his mid-50s (all members are, in fact, there), but sonically, he was the most distant from it." Another backhanded compliment. He doesn't look as well-preserved as the other band members, but his playing, in contrast, sounded like that OF A YOUNGER PERSON. The quality of the performance, once again, is associated with some arbitrary age in the critic's head.

If the guy were of a really advanced age or had come back from some debilitating neuromuscular disease or something, I could see relating the quality of his playing to that. Tony Bennett's singing prowess at 80 does amaze, because it's rare; there are simply not many fabulous 80-year-old tenors around. But critics need to stop talking about musicians over 35 or so as if they're making their last stop before checking in at the nursing home. I'm sure these critics think of themselves as extremely broad-minded people, but they're just showing some age-old prejudices.

At least they look broad-minded.

(BTW, to see how music critics ought to handle this issue, check out what Patrick Williams had to say about Rush in the Calendar section of the Dallas Observer. Kudos to him!)

Aug. 17, 2007

I'm now fully recuperated from my marathon reviewing of "Age of Love" and once again ready to crawl from my hole and join the world of the living. I have only one more thing to say about that: after the show finished airing, the SportsByBrooks website revealed that Jen Braff, the 48-year-old "executive assistant" rejected for the young flibbertigibbet, has done semi-nude modeling, including a 1999 Playboy shoot, and sold autographed (clothed) photos of herself at Glamourcon, the L.A. porn convention. I wonder if Mark would have chosen diferently had he known that.

The full story is here, along with photos that are really pretty discrete, but if you're at work, you make the call. I wouldn't get too worked up about this; the discovery that hot women who volunteered for a humiliating TV dating show were really aspiring models and actresses is about as shocking as discovering rampant Botox use on the "Desperate Housewives" set.

And now, some news from the age and beauty front...

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The British government surveyed over 1,600 people and found that men in early middle age are the least happy with their lives. Respondents were asked to rank their well being on a 1-10 scale. Most people ranked it fairly high at around 7.3 with a slight dip for women aged 25-34. But men in their late 30s-early 40s ranked their happiness at just 6.8, well below teenagers, the elderly and women of their own age. My theory is that they’re just depressed to discover that the late 30’s are now considered “early middle age.”

The good news for men is that the mid-life crisis passes (probably right after that first divorce), and after retirement age, their happiness rises to 7.8, the highest ranking of all.

And then, they die.

Even more interesting to me is the finding that there is a slight dip in happiness among women aged 25-34. And yet, that's the age all the other women wish that they were. So be careful what your wish for...

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La Stampa newspaper reports that Italian nutritionist Eugenio Luigi Iorio has enraged purists of the national dish by developing what he claims is an "anti-wrinkle pizza" (although any pizza will help fill in your wrinkles with fat, if you eat enough of it). He said the toppings, such as tomatoes, garlic, basil, mushrooms, carrots and spinach, are high in age-fighting antioxidants; and the wholemeal crust has magnesium and iron and three times as much fiber as a typical pizza. Even more, if you eat the box it's delivered in.

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Giving the lie to the idea that good gifts come in small packages, the Australian men's magazine Zoo Weekly is holding a contest in which men can win their lucky womenfolk the gift of an $8400 boob job. Readers are asked to send in photos of their mates' cleavage and let readers vote on which one most deserves free breast implants.

The government launched an investigation into whether it breaks a law against using plastic surgery as a contest prize, but the magazine got around that by offering the cash value of the operation, so you don't HAVE to use it to buy new breasts...but of course, what else would you possibly spend $8400 on? Health advocates call it appalling, feminists are disgusted, and the head of the Australian Society of Plastic Surgeons asked what we'd think if a women's magazine asked readers to volunteer their boyfriends to win a penis enlargement (look for that contest in the October Cosmo). But Zoo Weekly editor Paul Merrill said, "It's impossible to think of a more romantic gift than new breasts. It's the gift that keeps on giving."

Yes, I'm sure it is impossible for him to think of any gift more romantic than that. But then, men are always giving gifts that are really just things they want to play with themselves.

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Finally, two new studies prove what many of us have long believed anyway: beauty does you more good than brains.

First, researchers from the University of California divided a set of test subjects into three groups: the very good-looking; the average, moderately-attractive people; and the outright ugly. They found that not only were beautiful people consistently treated better and judged more positively by others, but they also earned on average 7 percent more than Average Joes, and a whopping 12 percent more than Ugly Betties.

One expert called it the "halo effect." Because some people are beautiful, we tend to assign other positive traits to them, seeing them as nicer, smarter or more talented, even though there's no connection with looks. I mean, come on: do you really think Angelina Jolie is nicer, Keanu Reeves is smarter, and Paris Hilton is super talented?

My theory is that they got it backwards. It's not that beautiful people make more money. It's just that people who make more money can afford a lot more plastic surgery.

Meanwhile, a new Ohio State University study disproved the idea that smart people make more money. A 25-year study of 7,000 randomly-chosen subjects found no correlation between IQ and income, net worth or level of financial distress. The study author said that whether you're rich or poor has more to do with luck, timing, parents, choice of spouse and other factors, such as "Are you Paris Hilton?"

Personally, I agree with the second study but I have to question the first. I know from experience that neither stunning beauty nor intense brilliance has ever made me any serious money.

AUG. 13, 2007

I make it a point not to get involved in politics, but I have to admit we were excited to see the strong showing by former Arkansas Governor Mike Huckabee in the Iowa GOP Straw Poll on Saturday. That's because Gov. Huckabee is a fan of our radio service, The Comedy Wire (he even wrote a very funny Foreword for our book, Nine Hallmarks of Highly Incompetent Losers), and he's a fan of my singing. He personally requested that Michael Gott and I play the two Christmas galas at the Governor's Mansion last Christmas. And he gave my husband Pat his assurance that if he is elected president, I'll get to sing at the White House. I feel that this is definitely a winning issue for him. I'll let you know if he keeps that campaign promise.

In the meantime, here at last is my review of the final episode of "Age of Love," and what a relief that it's all over. I will soon put all these things into chronological order on their own page, but until then, scroll down to read earlier entries. And what happened in the finale? Did he pick the 25-year-old? Or the 48-year-old? Or did he pick the 48-year-old, and then Monty Hall appeared and offered to let him trade her for two 24-year-olds? Read on and find out...

AGE OF LOVE - Finale

Hooray! This is the last night I'll have to hear those horrible lines from that obnoxious announcer. "Mark answers the question, 'Does age really matter?' Will Mark choose a woman in her 20s...or a woman in her 40s?"

But I rejoice too soon. This night, in the beginning minutes of the final episode of "Age Of Love," he outdoes himself. He actually says, "EVERY WOMAN WANTS TO FIND TRUE LOVE...BUT WHEN IS IT TOO LATE?"

(I'll pause for a moment. Sorry even to have to write that. Yes, it is a word-for-word quote.)

"Two women remain," he continues. "A 25-year-old and a 48-year-old." During a brief recap of previous episodes, he says, "Before long, age was all but forgotten, and hearts got broken along the way." Of course, age hasn't been forgotten in the slightest on this show, as the announcer asks AGAIN, "Who will Mark choose: a woman in her 20s...or a woman in her 40s?"

They play the opening theme again, "The Look Of Love." This show is overwhelmingly about looks, and the 40s are judged not just on their beauty but in large part by how young they look FOR THEIR AGE. As I say in my show, years after the Civil Rights movement, it's still all about skin, and attractive women over 40 are just "tryin' to pass." I should mention that it's all about looks for the 20s, too; some women from both age categories have no doubt financed new surgical wings for their plastic surgeons and aetheticians with all the work they've had done.

Anyway, back to the show. They're touching down in Melbourne, Australia, to meet Mark's family. Amanda, 25, says, "This is it." Jen, 48, says, "This is it." Mark, 30, says, "This is it." (Seriously, they all say it. These three do have something in common: an uninteresting way of expressing themselves.)

Elaborating a bit more, both women admit they're in love with Mark. As for Mark, he says he first felt chemistry with Amanda, right from the start. (Cue flashback.) He's found Amanda to be "more in the moment than the other girls." (Impressions can be wrong. Based on footage the producers chose to include, Amanda is seriously thinking longterm and is the biggest strategizer of the bunch.) Mark says he was also drawn to Jen from the beginning. (Cue flashback.) "It freaked me out that she's one of the most beautiful women here," he says. "If I'd been asked to go on a blind date with a 48-year-old woman, I wouldn't have gone. She's changed that for me."

By the way, that last remark strikes me as the most honest statement and perhaps the only redeeming moment in this entire mess. It reflects something else that I talk about in the show: that once people know "the number," they automatically have an image in their heads. They can't help but categorize, even if what they're thinking is completely wrong. And that can affect a person's life! Mark has hit upon the reason - the only reason -- I don't tell people my age. If other people are going to play the numbers game, I simply refuse to play.

Anyway, the time has come for Jen and Amanda to be introduced to Mark's family. "It's very important for my family to like the girl," says Mark. Jen has brought a gift, and she seems so relaxed and comfortable with Mark's relatives. When asked, Jen tells them her age, and after a momentary surprise, she gets the usual comments that she's "so beautiful." His mother offers this: "We have a saying, you can't judge a book by its cover. I think it's the same with age."

Jen does most of the talking, while Amanda seems nervous and intimidated. Jen helps with the salad; Amanda apparently has never made salad and doesn't know what to do. After a nice Greek dinner, Jen says, "Absolutely I could see myself as part of Mark's family." The family likes both women; shy Amanda makes points with Mark's mother because she is also shy. Another win for Amanda: somebody mentions grandchildren.

Now, it's time for Jen to go on her date with Mark; she says she's nervous "for the first time." They take a snuggly, romantic boat ride, during which Jen tells him -- I'm not sure why -- how many times she's, well, you know, during an intimate encounter. Then, on to dinner inside the glass-walled Melbourne Aquarium. Now, to me, this is just about the most astonishing and romantic setting for dinner that could ever be imagined - although I might have to order something other than my favorite, seafood.

Jen says, "You're spoiling me. How can I ever go back to real life?" Kudos to her for recognizing that this is not real life. I've always thought that even regular dating was an artificial way to find the right person.

The un-age-conscious Mark mentions age again, but at least with a positive spin: "Jen has opened my eyes and my heart to the fact that age doesn't matter in love."

Jen wants to know how he feels about her, not just the age. (Thank you!!) They agree that they both feel like themselves when they're together and laugh a lot. Jen says, "You've given me hope again for love." (oh, gag) "And I thank you for that." After dinner, they cuddle into some pillows, talk some more, and look at fish.

After the date, Mark says, "More and more, I'm pulling for Jen."

After the commercial break, Mark and Amanda go on their date. Mark drives Amanda into the country to a wildlife sanctuary, and this makes her very happy! (Wow, it would make me delirious! As the owner of 16 exotic birds, including cockatiels, a budgie and three different species of cockatoo, I've dreamed of going to Australia just to see the wildlife. But, I digress.) Amanda may not have Mark eating out of her hand quite yet, but she does have kangaroos and koalas doing it, which for all I know is preferable.

Yet, judging from comments she makes afterwards, Amanda's mind seems to be mostly on Jen's date, and how that went. Mark may think Amanda is "in the moment," but how can he really know that? His impression seems way off the mark to me.

They move on to dinner, at a Japanese restaurant that features huge, explosive balls of fire as part of the décor. Mark says later, "When I kiss Amanda, I feel something." Well, of course you do, Mark, and it's probably one of those gigantic fireballs scorching your neck.

Amanda is honest with Mark about her strong, strong feelings for him. And after the date, Mark seems to be having a very hard time choosing. He keeps saying he doesn't want to hurt anyone. I know from experience that if he likes them both but that "not hurting someone" is his primary motive, he will pick Amanda. He knows Jen is strong and could deal with his rejection philosophically, but Amanda would be destroyed by it and probably go jump off a building.

What better reason could there be to pick that special someone?

Before Mark tells them his decision, Jen and Amanda have a quiet conversation about the elimination and also about their age difference. Jen says, "You're just getting started...I'm glad I'm 48 because I know who I am." She's reasoned this out; Mark's choice will depend on the kind of man he is. Does he want to be able to show someone new things, or would he rather have someone who will show him things? At the same time, she sounds more like one of the 20-somethings when she likens being chosen to winning "the grand prize." Moony Amanda admits that, for her, not being chosen "could be devastating."

After the commercial break, Mark meets Jen to tell her his decision. Through the magic of editing, he also meets Amanda at the same time of day in the same spot. The camera cuts back and forth:

"Jen, you blew me away when you told me your age." (Oh, please. More about her beauty, yada yada yada.)

Then, "Amanda, from the very first, we had a connection....."

Back and forth, back and forth; then he finally tells Jen that he doesn't think it'll work out. There's not much more to say. She smiles sadly, kisses him lightly and walks away.

When Amanda learns she's been chosen by a man who is still a stranger to her in many ways, she beams, "I'm the happiest woman in the world, because I have my man. I have Mark." (Permission to hurl granted.)

Mark says afterwards, "Amanda is the first one I felt a connection with...If you click with someone, you click. Doesn't matter about age."

Jen's not so sure. She says, "We had a very strong connection. But he got scared. I know if I had been younger, he would've chosen me."

So, I have to wonder. Though I hate the fact that this show existed at all, what if it had been set up differently, with the 40s mixed in with the 20s and Mark not knowing anybody's age, not even being told that the contest was about age? The unsuspecting Mark probably would have figured Jen to be at least ten years younger, and I'm with Jen in thinking he probably would've picked her. He kept saying that "the number" didn't matter to him, and he may not have consciously thought it did, but the only way to know would be to see which woman he picked under these revised rules.

The announcer still could've asked, "Who will Mark pick...a woman in her 20s, or a woman in her 40s?" But Mark, oblivious to the social experiment he was a part of, might have chosen differently.

August 10, 2007

I finally wrote the synopsis of episode 4 of "Age of Love," the one I accidentlly skipped over, and my write-up of the finale will be posted as soon as I can stop barfing. To make it easier, I've posted it below under July 27, so scroll down and you'll find it just above Episode 5. After the finale is written, I'll put all these things in chronological order, place them on their own separate page, and then we must never speak of this again.

Let's go to the news and find more pleasant things to talk about.

The London Sun reports that Hub Clothing in Scottsdale, Arizona, has created a revolutionary solution to an age-old problem: it's the "Butt Cam." Co-owner Tom Simon said a lot of people dread trying on jeans and not knowing how they look from behind, so he came up with the idea of installing a camera outside the dressing room, set at butt level. People can stand in front of it, look at their rear ends in a TV monitor (as if there aren't enough asses on TV already), and see for themselves if the clothes make their butts look big.

It's been a big hit with shoppers. And with their husbands, who literally consider it a lifesaver. Of course, now, the women will be asking their mates, "Does this monitor make my butt look big?"

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Also from the Sun comes news of the latest diet fad. It's a book called "Skinny Bitch," written by a modeling agent and an ex-model who are both self-proclaimed "Skinny Bitches." They claim the book "cuts out the crap" and tells it how it is. It's basically a vegan diet with a lot of attitude and some questionable medical assertions, such as that we get fat "because we don't poop enough" (except for models, whose main food source is Ex-Lax). So I suggest you poop more, and when you do, use this book as toilet paper.

Incidentally, sales of this book on Amazon.com leaped 674 percent after Victoria Beckham was photographed last weekend carrying a copy in Los Angeles. Although by L.A. standards, Victoria Beckham is a fat bitch.

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Finally, some grimmer news: The University of Cardiff in Wales found that women in their 40s are more likely to binge drink than college girls (and not just after watching "Age of Love"). Researchers breathalyzed 893 drinkers late at night at the city center and found that 40 percent of men and 20 percent of women were drunk enough to risk injuring themselves. But in men, the alcohol level peaked at age 29, while in women, it rose with age and peaked in women over 40 (one more argument for women in their 40s to date men in their 20s). This despite the fact that men buy so many more drinks for the women in their 20s.
One researcher said they don't know why women over 40 are the booziest of all, but "we speculate younger women have more responsibilities at home, and once the children have left home, then the sky's the limit."

Personally, I speculate that women in their 40s drink more because their children have moved back home.

July 31, 2007

Since it's summer, I should direct you to a couple of articles about summer fashion, and the latest beach trend, the "monokini." This is a one-piece swimsuit with various holes in it, as if moths had been chowing down all winter long in your swimsuit drawer.   The idea seems to be to create a swimsuit that hides all the parts of your body that you don't want revealed, then cut out holes over those specific parts. Here's a New York Post story about the monokini, and just in case you aren't paranoid enough as you hit the sand, here's a feature from Britain's Daily Mail that not only discusses choosing the right swimsuit but also offers helpful advice from a unique viewpoint: two piggish guys who ruthlessly critique how various female celebrities look in swimsuits. There are no photos of these guys in Speedos. I have a feeling that's a good thing.

And while we're on the subject of summer fashions, here's an article about how 3-inch heels are yesterday's hominy grits and the new thing is 4-inch heels or higher (Victoria Beckham looks down on the help from 5-1/2 inch heels). Soon, women will just be tottering around on stilts. The article gives some handy figures on how much you will need to budget to pay for both the trendiest 4-inch designer stilettos and the resulting expensive foot surgery.

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Speaking of surgery, do you know anyone who would get plastic surgery to look like Courtney Love? I do: Courtney Love! Love had radical cosmetic surgery and was so disappointed, she's trying to find a surgeon who can put her back the way she was naturally (good luck finding a plastic surgeon who has any experience at that.) Love said, "I'm hating that I did that to my mouth..I just want the mouth God gave me back. It was perfectly cute, and I had nice big lips." Sure, it was a bit hard to control in public, but it looked nice. This is one more sad example how important it is to think it over and do your research before you get even minor cosmetic surgery.

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Well, I've put it off as long as possible. Here's my review of last night's episode of "Age of Love" (BTW, I've realized that I skipped episode four, so I will write a review of that and possibly repost all this stuff in chronological order once it comes to its merciful end next week. In the meantime, scroll down for the earlier episodes)...

AGE OF LOVE - Episode 7
(first aired Monday, July 30)

The ever-more-irritating announcer intones:

"Two women in their 20s and two women in their 40s remain...

"The dark side of love emerges...

"In the end, will he choose a woman in her 20s, or a woman in her 40s?"

The theme song plays. Yes, it's The Look Of Love. For one tiny redeeming moment, a nice quote comes up:

"We don't stop playing because we grow old. We grow old because we stop playing." -- George Bernard Shaw.

And, by God, these women are playing. Playing rough. Playing to win. This episode ramps up the tension and jealousy considerably. You might recall that last week, Jayanna was let go by Mark after Amanda's "whisper campaign" against her. This week, 38-year-old Jayanna returns (on video) to warn the other women about the "desperate" 25-year-old Amanda. But her remarks are so backhanded against all the remaining women that her words go largely unheeded.

In the words of one of the 20-somethings: "She's almost 40 - like, get over it."

Jen, the oldest and seemingly most sensitive of the group, feels bad for Jayanna. Her comment: "If I didn't know Mark, I would hate him for what he did to my friend." But since she knows him, he apparently can get away with anything, because she definitely still wants him.

Mark chooses Maria and Amanda to go on the first date of this episode with him. "Maria doesn't get stressed about everything," he says. "I get a very cool vibe from her." And Amanda "is a great girl." After a commercial for Neutrogena anti-aging products, the three of them go to a dance club together for private salsa lessons. Amanda brightens at the idea.

"I know that my age really gives me an advantage," says Amanda.

In a way, she's right. The producers have brought outfits for the women to wear on the dance floor. While Amanda gets to wear a hot, stretchy little two-piece outfit with long, sexy fringe, Maria is put into a white, matronly ruffly dress that subtracts three inches of height and adds 30 pounds. "A woman in her 40s can still pull off a hot little salsa outfit," smiles Maria, and I didn't do too bad." Maria, dear, nobody except perhaps Catherine Zeta-Jones could pull off that dress.

Maria, taking the spirit of competition a little far, goes completely nuts on the dance floor. "She just tries so hard - it was pathetic, I think," says the always-sensitive Amanda in her critique. When Amanda takes to the dance floor with Mark, she's much more relaxed and self-assured, secure in the knowledge that her flattering outfit makes her look slinky and fabulous. "I feel more sexual with Amanda, says Mark. "She is just hot. Maria was, like, sweating..."

Later in the evening, while they're just sitting together talking, Maria asks Mark to pretend this is his last date with her. What would he want to talk about, to say to her? She's obviously trying this approach to get him to open up, but Mark says afterwards that it was a "buzz-kill...Maria's being Maria again. She totally killed the mood."

His next date is with Megan, by herself. Mark laughs, "She's only 21, but I do like hanging out with her. She says the funniest things!" (Yeah, I remember her joking to Mark last week that Jen was as old as her mom. That was so FUNNY!)

The date is for an afternoon "high tea." But Megan doesn't care for the idea. "I feel like my date was definitely more suitable to the 40s. I don't know anything about tea at all." Tea is for old-maid aunts who shop together at flea markets, I suppose. Judging from last week's camping trip, the problem with tea is that it is not booze.

But Mark and Megan enjoy each others' company and even salsa dance a little (no music) after nibbling on scones and tea cakes. "I'm definitely falling for him," she remarks afterwards.

The final date: a call to Jen to say, "Your carriage awaits. Bring your swimsuit." The carriage turns out to be a fantasy right out of "Cinderella." Jen looks completely gorgeous as she heads out the door; the other women look as though they could rip her apart. Jen beams, "Right now, I feel like the most special woman in the house. I really want Mark to choose me." Mark seems smitten with Jen, too; he even says, "I'm saving the best for last." Jen tells him that this is the most romantic date she's ever been on. The implication is that, coming from a 48-year-old woman, that's saying a lot!

Later, after changing into their swimsuits, Mark notes that "her body is just ridiculous. She is in incredible shape." They talk easily, as always, and get very close. Then it's time for massages, in the dark. Jen comes back to the suite beaming, and can't wait to recount her date to the others, who are decidedly nonplussed.

After the date, Mark, who has commented repeatedly that he's not thinking about age, says, "Jen, without a doubt, gives the women in their 20s a run for their money." Jen reports that "tonight, after my date, I've fallen for him."

Naturally, the other women are petulant. The youngest, Megan, whom Mark finds so endearing, pouts, "It SUCKS! I've always asked that someone take me on a friggin' carriage ride!" Amanda is once again stuck on the realization that she's not being treated as "special" after she's put herself out there.

Maria's talking about leaving -- again. "I have learned, at 42, that I need to follow my instincts," she says. The other women have noticed that she's talked repeatedly about leaving, but she never does.

Mark has a brief one-on-one with each of the four women. Megan's is over before I even realize what they've said to each other. Jen tells Mark, "Now I am definitely in this." Amanda admits it's hard for her to watch him make connections with the others. For the second time, she attempts to sabotage another woman - this time, Jen -- saying, "I got a full report of the massages..."

Finally, Maria. "At 40, I don't know if there's tomorrow," says Maria. (Hey, does anyone?) "I get turned off when I'm opening the door and inviting you in, and you're slamming it shut. So, I'm eliminating myself." Mark had wanted her to stay; they talk for an hour, after which Mark says he's "emotionally drained."

Afterwards, Maria says, "At my age, I just kind of know what I need." So, for Maria, it is about age. And even if she knows perfectly well what she needs, she hasn't learned to communicate it very well, except for some vague idea that Mark "share himself" with her. I'm not sure what she's been trying to pry out of him; no wonder he's frustrated. This dynamic, with the woman constantly demanding that the man talk and share his feelings, goes on in many households, I'm sure - many unhappy households. Mark is better off without it.

So he moves on. He goes to the women's suite and tells them that (1) Maria has eliminated herself, and (2) they need to pack immediately for...Australia! That's where his family is, and he wants the remaining three women to meet them.

How exciting! And the fact that she is the only 40-something left is not lost on Jen. "Age is nothing but a number," she says. "I hope I can be the one to prove it."

But Megan is so severely flight-phobic that her white knuckles burn out the camera lens. As they all board the plane and prepare for takeoff, she becomes increasingly pale and sick. She can't go through with it. The flight is delayed so that Mark can escort her off the plane, out of the airport and into a cab. They kiss, actually for the first time. It's sweet; she manages not to throw up on him. "Why now??" he laments later. "It shouldn't end like this. I did not want her to leave."

Indeed, my prediction had been for the competition to come down to Jen and Megan, the oldest and the youngest in the entire contest. I think that if Megan hadn't left on her own, that's the way it would've been. Now Mark will be choosing either Jen or Amanda. I wouldn't be surprised if it turned out Amanda had spiked Megan's drink with some sort of anxiety-producing drug. As for Jen, Amanda will probably find some way to off her during their 14-hour flight. Amanda observes, "I never thought I'd be vying for Mark's heart with someone almost twice my age."

The plane takes off for The Land Down Under, as our smarmy announcer leaves us with this:

"Only two women remain: a 48-year-old woman and a 25-year-old, and it's finally time for him to choose between young and old."

If I ever meet the author of those lines, it's going to get violent. His arm is going to snap like a 100-year-old woman's.

July 30, 2007

More age and beauty stories will be posted shortly, but here's something completly different. Parade magazine did a cover story Sunday on animal intelligence. For some unfathomable reason, it doesn't even mention birds.

I think it might have been inspired by a series of questions in Marilyn Vos Savant's column. I replied to one of her responses with a letter about my African grey parrot, Dorian (Dorian Gray...get it? See, I had to sneak age and beauty in here somewhere.) She posted that letter on her website and referred people to it a couple of weeks ago in her national column. Since this is now the Parade cover story, I thought I'd direct your attention to my letter about Dorian, who makes a cameo appearance via photo in "My Ship Has Sailed." Read it and discover a parrot who is smarter than the NBC executives who greenlighted "Age of Love."

July 27, 2007

Some news items on age, beauty and plastic surgery have been piling up, and I'll try to get them posted over the weekend.   But first, I have a bitter and unpleasant duty to perform. That's right: it's time for the latest installment in my ongoing series of reviews of NBC's "Age of Love." Grab your Pepto-Bismol and brace yourselves...

AGE OF LOVE
Episode 4

It's announced that "you are all going to be living together." Groan.

Until now, the 40s have been together in a suite on the 40th floor, and the 20s have been on the 20th floor. Mark is on the 30th floor. (Get it? The producers are milking this age thing for way more than it's worth.) From now on, all the women will be on the 40th floor.

"It's our house, and they're gonna respect it," warns one of the 40s. "I don't trust these women," sneers a 20. Already, the stage is set for a "divide and conquer" mentality - one age group against another.

The announcer does his part to inflame the hostilities between "young" and "old": "These women are just out of college," he reminds us about the 20s. As for the 40s, "These women are old enough to be their moms." Yeah, yeah. Even though the older group starts at a mere 39 years of age and the younger group includes women in their late 20s, we're going to be hearing that tired observation many more times before the contest is thankfully over.

The women do seem to divide automatically into two camps; it's ironic to me that they are the ones who think about age the most. Mark, to his credit, doesn't seem very age-conscious, at least on the surface. "They're all incredible personalities. They're all sexy."

The competition today is a Triathlon. Now, are the producers coming up with all this athletic stuff because Mark is an athlete and wants a Bionic Woman who can keep up with him, or simply to make the 40s sweat to keep up with the 20s? If it's the latter, they must be disappointed, because the 40s and the 20s perform equally well in these physical contests, and they look just as good doing it. One 40 comments, "These younger girls are skinny; skinny doesn't mean strong."

Anyway, the triathlon consists of biking (teams of two women sharing bicycles-for-two), running and crossing water on a surfboard to get to Mark's yacht. Jen, at 48, is extremely competitive here, maybe because she's conscious of being the oldest woman in the contest, but every woman is pushing as hard as she can to reach the yacht first, or die trying. Is this guy really worth such heroic effort? It all seems a bit pathetic to me.

As if reading my thoughts, Mark comes on screen, saying, "I felt so bad. I thought, "I'm not worth it! Go back, go back!"

One of the younger women, 23-year-old Tessa, pushes too hard and sprains her ankle badly. Jayanna, 39, is the first to reach the yacht. (She's very skinny, but apparently also strong.)

Unfortunately, no one comes on screen to mirror my next thought: "Is this any way to choose someone to date?"

Mark spends some time with Jayanna and finds her relaxed and easy to talk to. The 20s are not happy that an old lady of 39 won time with him. "The 40-year-olds are stepping up their game,” says one. "They're intimidated by us." Apparently, one skill that younger women possess is that of mind-reading.

Mark arranges for the women to meet him at (sigh) the tennis court. Some of them are dismayed by yet another athletic trial, especially poor Tessa, who's limping around on crutches. He has two 20s and two 40s play against each other while he watches. (Note: if I had to win a contest this way at 20, 30 or 40, I'd lose and lose big. Not being a sun baby, I just haven't played outdoor sports at all. My tennis game may have suffered, but my skin thanks me every day.) The 20s have a much louder, flirtier style on the court, though all the women look equally fit and sexy in their tennis clothes.

Tessa winces out to the court and tries to play with her injury, and in doing so wins points with Mark, who has said he's looking for a woman who will try new things. He asks her to join him on a date, as the other women try to suppress their gag reflex. The 40s have actually played better tennis than the 20s, but the younger women have won more time with Mark, and that's the important thing.

It's time for more confrontation, with one of the 20s calling the 40s "prima donnas." The 40s are struck by the insecurity of the 20s, with all their whining and pouting. Mary, especially, cries at EVERYTHING.

Tessa goes on her date with Mark, in a lovely cocktail dress that contrasts nicely with her Ace bandage. He really seems to like her. They have a lovely, romantic dinner, during which Tessa tells him, for some reason, that Amanda has strong feelings for him. "If you don't have strong feelings for me," she says, "let me know." After the date, Mark admits to the camera that he is baffled; why would a woman on a date with him be talking about the feelings of another woman? (I have to admit that I'm puzzled, too. Perhaps Amanda has hypnotized her into saying this; she definitely would if she could.)

The date over, Mark asks for one-on-one time with each woman. Jayanna feels a real connection with him, and tells him so. Later she says to the camera, "The 20-year-olds don't have the kissing skills I have. I left him wanting more." Give me a break.

In fact, Mark would not agree with Maria's self-assessment. In his one-on-one with Amanda, he tells her, "You're the first one I've wanted to "KISS' kiss."

Jen and Mark have a pretty steamy makeout session themselves. "She blew me away with her kisses," Mark says afterwards. Jen must be giving it all she's got; she opines to the camera later, "I'm the oldest one...time is running out." Jen, Jen! I have to hope the producers manipulated you into saying that, or that they took you wildly out of context.

Time for two of the women to say goodbye. First, poor little Tessa has to hobble away, but maybe she's on so much Vicodan for her ankle that she can't feel any pain. Mark says she "ruined things" on their date by bringing up Amanda.

Then, Kelly, who is 40, is told it's over for her. She says she feels blindsided. The show ends with a comment of hers that makes me wonder why she'd agree to be on this show in the first place:

"I don't need to be reminded of my age - I know how old I am every day."

The remaining women - along with us in the audience - will continue to be reminded constantly until this travesty is over.

AGE OF LOVE,
Episode 5

The announcer, who is becoming the most annoying part of this show, sets the tone once again:

"It's the biggest dating experiment this summer!...Old or young, the women are starting to fall for Mark!...The competition between the 20s and the 40s is starting to get vicious!...The claws come out.

"In the end, will he choose a woman in her 20s...or a woman in her 40s?"

Are you throwing up yet? If not, maybe the theme music will do it: they're playing "The Look Of Love."

By episode 5, all contestants have been eliminated except for three women in their 40s and three in their 20s. In order to get to know the women better, he takes several of them on a date.

Surfing.

You know, I really can't think of a better way to get to know a woman.

If I were a contestant on this show, I'd probably be the first to go home because I'm just not the sporty type. With my red hair and porcelain-white skin, I'm like Woody Allen: "I don't tan, I stroke." Though I do work out and am very fit, I don't surf or do any water sports at all. (Regardless of how well these women swim, many of them could use their enormous fake breasts as flotation devices.) I don't play tennis. I don't ice skate, although it might be fun to try that. On second thought, I'm the kind of hothouse flower that perishes in temperatures below 68 degrees. Just wondering: Are the women doing all this athletic stuff because Mark himself is an athlete, or because the producers want to pit young against old? If it's the latter, I'm happy to say the 40s hold their own quite well against the 20s - and look just as hot in their little outfits.

Mark and his "dates" surf, romp in the sand and get physically close, but they don't discuss movies, books, or stories in the news. For the most part, they don't bring up their families. Forty-eight-year-old Jen does share a little about her son -- but in terms of age, because at 25, he's just five years younger than Mark. He and the women, in one-on-one conversations, do talk about their feelings and relationships in general, but they don't bring up religion or politics, or their opinions about anything potentially controversial. (The only controversy encountered here is the "older woman-younger man" issue.) I doubt that a woman vying for Mark's attention would even tell him if she really didn't like surfing. Jen says, 'I want to show Mark what a 48-year-old woman is all about." Are all 48-year-olds "about" the same thing? Shouldn't she want to show him very specifically what this particular woman, who happens, incidentally, to be 48, is all about?

Only one woman appears independent enough to be totally honest about her likes and dislikes: 42-year-old Maria. She seems quite blasé about the whole process when she says, "At this stage of my life, I don't chase."

Another woman in the 40-plus group is frustrated and jealous that Mark has spent so much on the beach with 21-year-old Megan, the youngest of the group. Her comment: "I didn't come here to meet a man who finds it titillating to be with a 21-year-old for, like, five hours."

After the beach date, Mark has (sigh) another date, with two more women, 39-year-old Jayanna and 25-year-old Amanda. It's an elegant evening outdoors in a Moroccan tent. (Now, I could go for that!) He says he has a good feeling with Jayanna; after the date, she says, "I can't see him not choosing me."

Amanda is already completely moony over Mark. Her soppiness is pretty sickening. In fact, the way most of these women are scrapping for a tiny crumb of attention from this guy is off-putting. It's just tragic that Mark can't be cloned so that every contestant - except, perhaps, Maria, who's fine without him - could have him for herself.

48-year-old Jen is annoyed with "everything" when she's the only one left who hasn't had a date with Mark that day. But it turns out - lucky her! - that he's been saving her for last. He's going to take her on a motorcycle ride! And it just so happens that there's a hot-looking biker outfit for her to wear. Mark and Jen have a lovely time riding (and parking) together. There's lots of smooching. We cut to: ...

The apartment, where the 20-somethings make nasty comments about Jen's age. "That has to be weird...18 years older?? She could be his mom!"

Mary, 24, is certainly the most immature of the bunch...boo-hooing constantly because she just hasn't had the chance to get to know the fabulous Mark. (Believe me, if they don't get together at all, it will be the best thing for both of them.) I really can't imagine any of the 40-somethings behaving like this, although I can see Mary doing it when she's 40.

Back to Mark and Jen. They play pool and have a great time. He says he feels very comfortable with her. A candid comment from Jen after the date: "What's most important to me is what I need and what I want. And I want Mark."

Well, okay, then.

Maria, on the other hand, says, "I know Mark's not the guy for me, so I need to be out of here, so he can find the one who is right for him." She tells the other women that she plans to say goodbye to Mark. They take the news well.

Now it's time for Mark and all the remaining women to gather poolside, so that Mark can tell one to go home. Jen (48) is asked to stay, along with Megan (21), Jayanna (39) and Amanda (25). (I find it interesting that in this group are both the oldest and youngest of all the original contestants.) Then it's Maria's turn to walk to him.

Maria tells Mark that he hasn't shared himself in the way she had asked, so she's made up her mind to go home. But Mark makes it clear that he really wants to have that kind of time with her. He wants her to stay. She didn't expect this -- what now? She just laughs and laughs, while the other women steam with anger and resentment.

Twenty-four-year-old Mary is the one going home. Boooo-hoooo-hoooo! She doesn't accept even Mark's gentle rejection well; the way she takes her leave must make him sure he made the right decision. Afterwards, she pouts, "The one thing that sickens me is that Jayanna and Jen are going to be here longer than I am."

I'd like to think that all the 40-somethings are more mature than that. Not to mention all the other 20-somethings.

Whom will Mark reject next? Will Maria change her mind about him? Can I sit through another hour of this vapidity without upchucking like a fashion model after brunch? Oh, Lord, I don't know! But I vowed to do it, so you wouldn't have to. So let's fast-forward one week, and you can read about....

AGE OF LOVE
Episode 6

Here's that annoying announcer again: "Two women in their 20s and three women in their 40s remain!"

By now, I've thoroughly had it with the age references. At this point, can't it just be about the individual personalities? We KNOW Jen is (gasp!) 48. We KNOW Megan is a mere 21. WE GET IT. But no, they have to club us over the head with it. Sometimes, the contestants are happy to play along.

One of the 40s does sound a lot like me: "I see a lot of myself in Mark, but that's not enough to fall in love with someone in such a short period of time."

Twenty-five-year-old Amanda, on the other hand, is just a drooling idiot, with her romantic feelings towards Mark out of control.

Mark announces that they're (aaauuuggghhh!) ALL GOING CAMPING TOGETHER.

See, there's another activity that's just not for me. I've never been camping in my life. Take me to a movie, or a museum, or the theatre, or the zoo, or even a romantic picnic to watch the sun set, BUT FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, DON'T TAKE ME CAMPING. Not the 20-year-old me, not the 40-year-old me. But Mark has decided that a camping trip is one way for him to see some different sides of the women's personalities, and I have to admit after seeing the show, he may have something there.

Guess what they do on the camping trip to reveal more about themselves? That's right - they play "Truth Or Dare!" Somehow, one of the dares becomes "show your ass." Mark turns his back, lowers his jeans and does this (pixilated on TV), and Jayanna says with a self-satisfied smile, "I'm 39 years old...I've got a great ass, and if I've gotta show my ass, perfect!"

The wine flows, and that more than anything seems to be the way for Mark to find out more about these "ladies." Anger erupts among them. I don't really understand what they're arguing about, but the confrontation between Maria and Jen gets so heated that Jen walks off. Mark talks her into coming back and apologizing for whatever it was she said. It's clear that, when drunk enough, women of all ages can behave just like teenage girls.

As Mark says, "When you're a little tipsy, the truth comes out."

Twenty-one-year-old Megan has quite a bit to drink, and she actually tells him she thinks it's weird that he's hanging out with a woman who's the same age as her mom. At this point, I'm starting not to like Megan so much. Go home, Megan.

Amanda sees all the attention Mark is giving the tipsy Megan and laments that the time she spent with him that she'd thought was "special" really wasn't. "I'm so naïve, just like always," she wails.

The announcer poses the question yet again: "Who will Mark send home...a woman in her 20s, or a woman in her 40s?"

At this point, I'm reinforced in my view that age doesn't matter, because all these woman are acting like five-year-olds.

Much more immature behavior follows; it's just too tiresome to recount here. By morning, it seems that even Mark may be getting tired of some of the girls' cattiness.

Jen, the oldest of the group, does seem to be the most mature. But I'll bet she seemed mature "for her age" when she was younger.

Mark takes each woman, in turn, on a walk and tells her whether or not he wants her to stay. Staying: Jen (hooray, and not because she's the oldest), Amanda, Maria and Megan. Two 40s and two 20s; there's always that symmetry. Going: Jayanna. It seems that Amanda, while cuddling with Mark in his tent, told him some things about Jayanna that disturbed him. Jayanna defends herself; she had given Amanda advice and support, and it had been used against her in a "whisper campaign." Ah, the intrigue!

Jayanna says, "I guess I was duped." She accuses Amanda of immaturity and concludes, "I've learned that I'm really happy to be the age that I am, and I don't want to be 20 again."

The show ends with Mark saying, "One of them could be the mother of my children."

Please, PLEASE, don't let that be the focus of next week's show!

Now, where's my bottle of Pepto-Bismol?...

July 9, 2007

Sorry to go so long without an update but I had a big show to perform in Denison (it went great, and the people there treated us wonderfully; thanks to everyone at the Denison Arts Council for sponsoring it and for their fine hospitality. To read the review, click here and scroll down to the bottom); then we were on "vacation" for a week, which meant we spent a week packing for the move to Las Vegas. But with episode four of "Age of Love" looming over me like the Sword of Damocles, I have to catch up with my reviews of the last two, so here we go...

AGE OF LOVE
Episode 2

Episode One of "Age Of Love (20s vs. 40s)" had me seething, but I promised to dance to the masochism tango and watch the entire run of this travesty, just so you wouldn't have to.

You probably recall that at the end of Episode One, 30-year-old Mark had met all the beautiful 40-something contestants, only to learn that he'd also be choosing from a group of foxy 20-somethings. The announcer ended the show with a warning to hold onto your hats -- the women just got a whole lot younger!

Episode Two starts predictably: Mark meets the hot, vivacious younger women, one by one, and each chats briefly and tells him her age. But this time, the presentation is very different. The 40-somethings had been dressed in classy evening wear (introductions took place after dark, by a swimming pool), while the 20-somethings are flashing their tans in the bright afternoon sun by that same pool and wearing...bikinis! These are rowdy girls; they're loud and proud. Message: These are the fun babes!

Later, the camera follows the younger girls to their rooms (on the 20th floor, natch), where they jabber incredibly ageist comments about menopause and hot flashes. "Mark is gonna want to be with a younger woman," says one. "My mom is 40," says another. My hunch is that comments such as these (if they are not concocted by the producers and put into the girls' mouths) come from fear; it's probable that these women are already terrified of looking one day older, so they attack the older women like a herd of wild animals attacking the sick one.

The 20-somethings are definitely going for a particular look. Although there's some variation, the most common body type is very skinny and hard with huge, obviously fake breasts and fake tans. (If you're watching the show, think Tessa.) I'd guess that the younger women have had every bit as much plastic surgery as the older ones have. No doubt these girls think they're sizzling hot, but I wonder if a guy like Mark necessarily likes such hard edges - or hard implants.

Mark spends some time conversing with the 20-somethings, who mostly talk about themselves. Afterwards, he remarks that talking with some of them was "like pulling teeth. It felt like I wasn't getting anything in return." He's noticed that most of them are doing "more than one thing" and are "still finding themselves." He says he's more attracted to women who know what they want. "When I'm with the 40s, things are a lot more relaxed."

"To be 100 percent honest, I miss the old women." (Yes, I'm pretty sure he said "OLD WOMEN.")

But he doesn't have to miss them for long, because he's sent on a group date with the 40-somethings, at a roller rink. The women are dressed in fun, flirty outfits and look great. "That statement, '40 is the new 20,' really is true," beams one 40-year-old.

The 40s have to compete in a limbo contest to see who gets to spend some one-on-one time with Mark. Talk about bending over backwards for a guy. (I'd have lost this contest even in my 20s.) The winner: Jen, the oldest contestant at 48. They have a lovely conversation, with Mark in voiceover saying, "The whole time, I cannot believe she's 48 YEARS OLD." It freaks him out a little that her son is 25. But she tells him she was married to a man 18 years older than she was. Coincidentally, the age difference for Jen and Mark is also 18 years...but, of course, this is older woman-younger man. Not the same thing at all.

After this date, he meets the 20-somethings in his hotel room to play a dance game of some sort. Afterwards, he says, "My opinion of the 20s changed in a positive way," but for the life of me I can't understand what has changed his mind.

Later that night, by the pool, the 20s and 40s meet. The 40s laugh quietly with each other. "We saw breasts...we saw size 2 waists," says one.

The announcer explains (in case some dim bulb still doesn't get it), "We brought you here because we wanted to see if age matters when it comes to falling in love."

Mark gets the last word: "Age and numbers mean nothing to me." Ironic, since it seems to mean everything to the producers of this show.

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Episode Three

The announcer reminds us: "These women are old enough to be their MOMS." As for Mark, "He had no idea what he was getting into!" But "the 40-year-olds exceeded his expectations by far!"

Hey, they're old hags. How high could those expectations have been?

It's explained that at the end of this episode, one 20 and one 40 will be going home. (No, it can't be two 20s or two 40s, even though numbers don't matter to Mark.) The 40s tend to be more philosophical about losing, with one observing, "The guy who wants the 20-something girl is not my guy." "You know, I'm 40 years old," says another. "I've had my heart broken before. I just want to find that someone."

But the stress is already taking its toll on others. One of the 40s says, "Whew! I might start looking my age by the end of this!" (Okay, what does "40" look like? If she's 40, wouldn't it by definition have to look like her?)

The 20s have quotes of their own. Whether by their own design or the producers', their comments are the most ageist of all. Example: "What's a synonym for 'old'? 'Decrepit.'" There are also references to (yes) bingo and old folks' homes.

The 40s plan a date for Mark to go on with the 20s, and vice versa. They send the 20s on a "play date" with Mark and groups of little kids, thinking it would make them (the 20s, not the little kids) seem immature. This tactic backfires; many of the 20s show themselves in a good light. Then, the 20s send the 40s on a date with Mark at the swimming pool at the senior center, thinking it will reinforce the image of them as dried-up old prunes. This strategy also fails; the 40s look fabulous in their bikinis, especially next to fat, flabby centenarians. The 40s end up saying, "Thank you, 20-somethings!!"

One twist: Maria, 42, decides she will leave. She has sensed that there just isn't a connection, at least on her part, so she says a good-natured goodbye. The other 40-somethings, for the most part, also seem to have this "que sera, sera" attitude, while most of the younger women see this as a contest to be won at any cost. That seems to be their approach to life; they do everything they can to reach a state of what they regard as physical perfection, so they can be Alpha Female and get the hunky guy. Gee, I'd always heard it was the older women who were the desperate ones!

Mark does manage to talk Maria into staying, but she asks him to be "more present." It's a good exchange.

Jen, the oldest at 48, is asked by Mark to stay. He looks at her with smiling, astonished eyes and says, "YOU REALLY DON'T LOOK YOUR AGE AT ALL." Afterwards, Jen, newly energized, makes a comment more characteristic of the competitive 20-somethings: "The 20s better watch out. Game on!"

I can't wait for Episode Four, in which the 20s and 40s move in together. Obviously, they've figured out how to take an awful concept and make it ten times worse. I promise to tell you all about it so you don't have to watch it, and I've laid in a big supply of barf bags for the run of the show. Of course, my main problem isn't sitting through this show - I have a high tolerance for pain -- but just the simple fact that it exists.

(To wash all this out of your brain, here is Conan O'Brien's parody, "The Math of Love," in which Max Weinberg demonstrates all the enlightened sensitivity of the NBC executives who greenlighted this thing.)

June 20, 2007

"Age of Love (20 vs. 40)"

Imagine you're watching the first episode of one of those "dating" reality shows.

You see a handsome, hunky blonde man in a white dinner jacket, waiting expectantly at the bottom of a staircase for the first of a dozen beautiful women to walk enticingly to him and introduce herself.

The first woman, stunningly attractive, descends the stairs. There's a cut to a reaction shot of him as he suddenly realizes she is black.

She approaches him and takes his hands in hers in a confident-yet-vulnerable way. "Hi, I'm Latisha. I'm really looking forward to getting to know you. Oh, and, by the way, I'm black."

A true gentleman, he tries to hide his confusion. What has he gotten himself into? "You look beautiful tonight," he says. "I've never dated a black woman before, so it'll be a new experience for me. It's a little out of my comfort zone. But I do think you are absolutely lovely."

She moves to the other side of the room, as another gorgeous woman starts down the stairs. Again, we see his reaction as he realizes that she, too, is black. What is going on here?

She gives him a friendly hug. "Hi, I'm Pam. I think we could have a lot of fun getting to know each other. There is one thing...in case you didn't notice, I'm black."

At this point, the guy's mind is racing; he can only say, "You look beautiful tonight." They chat for a few moments, and then it's time for the third black woman to walk down the stairs.

By the time he's met and talked with all 12 beautiful black women, and after they've all broken the news to him that - yes - they're black, he's completely open to the idea of dating someone black. He says he has put the issue of race out of his mind.

Then, at the very end of a show filled with curves, he's thrown a new one. A tableau is revealed, featuring the other 12 women from whom he is to choose his Special One over the coming weeks. These women are all classic blonde beauties, and they are presented as the ones to watch, the real competition. The announcer says, "Things just got a lot more complicated...the women just got a whole lot WHITER. Will he pick a white woman, or a black one?" (He even refers to this show as "the ultimate social experiment.")

Doesn't this sound outrageous? Of course it does. YOU WOULD NEVER SEE THIS!

A show like this would never be broadcast! Why? Because it's racist and horrible. Yes, there is still some racial prejudice -- and will be as long as there are idiots -- but racism is no longer a culturally-acceptable bias.

Ageism is.

Case in point: the actual dating show that debuted on NBC Monday, June 18, called "Age Of Love (20 vs. 40)." It proceeds exactly as I've described above, except the women in the first group are all 40-plus. (The guy is 30.) I merely substituted "black" for "older" and "white" for "young."

In the real show, each woman has to tell the man her age. He registers confusion and a touch of disappointment at first, but ultimately is open to the experience. The women are so warm and appealing, and, most importantly, they look no more than 30. But then, at the end of the show, he catches a glimpse of the twentysomething hotties he'll be meeting next week. Wowwweeeee! They're YOUNG!

I had a much stronger emotional response watching this show than I had anticipated. After the first few minutes, I was trying not to cry. Any hope I'd had that the issue of age would be incidental to the proceedings was dashed. It seemed to me that each woman was participating not just as herself as an individual but on behalf of her particular "number." If the 48-year-old wins, she wins for all 48-year-olds. Because, obviously, 48-year-olds have something to prove.

Although we don't get to meet the twentysomethings till next Monday night, the first episode had a few clips of them and some choice quotes: "The 20s vs. the 40s? You've got to be...joking." "I'm young and definitely hot. Deal with it." "Men naturally want to date younger women." "Hopefully, when I'm 40, I won't still be dating. Desperate for a man...it's pathetic, really."

Now, I don't know how much of this dreck has been staged. The producers, if they're targeting a market of over-30 women, may have deliberately weighted the show with wonderful, worldly-wise 40-year-old babes and shallow, nasty 20-year-old babes. These are cliches, of course. If there's a correlation between youth and shallowness, then I'd say that anyone connected in any way with the creation or airing of this show couldn't be over 11.

I hope it tanks.

Ironically, by the end of the first episode, the participant who seems to be thinking the least about age is the central male character. That might have led some women to think, "Hey, this is great! This is demonstrating that older women can compete with younger women, and that age is irrelevant."

But that's not what it's demonstrating at all. Just the fact that this show even exists demonstrates that age is EVERYTHING.

I'll be forcing myself to watch further installments of this drivel every Monday night, tissues and barf bag in hand, just so I can write commentary on it. (See the things I do for you?) I hope you'll stay tuned, not necessarily for the show, but for my comments!

June 18, 2007

Very busy preparing for the June 29 Denison show (the photo at right is from an interview with KXII-Channel 12, with anchor Ryan Loyd (left) and Mike Williams, a fantastic glass artist and president of the Denison Arts Council), but I have to pop in with a few news items.

First of all, have you heard of Paul Potts yet? He's become an overnight hero in the UK, and clips of him are the most viewed videos on YouTube worldwide. I love him because he's the living embodiment of the message of "My Ship Has Sailed," that looks and age have nothing to do with how much you have to offer the world.

Paul is the new winner of "Britain's Got Talent," the UK parent of "America's Got Talent." He is a cell phone salesman from Wales, and he is overweight, has bad teeth, and the humble, slightly-whipped demeanor of someone who has been dealt a bad hand in life, including bullying, major health problems and serious financial burdens.   He loves opera but didn't start singing until he was 28, and he's gone heavily in debt taking classes, even though he's never sung professionally. He's now 36, which is eight years beyond the cut-off date for "American Idol," when people officially become too old to be singers.

Well, Paul walked nervously out onstage, told Simon Cowell and the other judges that he was going to sing opera, and you could see them brace themselves for something putrid. He then opened his mouth, and this amazing voice filled with overwhelming emotion just poured forth. By the end, the crowd was on its feet cheering, and there wasn't a dry eye in the house. Even Simon couldn't hide his astonishment. Watch these clips, and I guarantee he'll have the same effect on you. Here's his first appearance, his semi-finals performance and his winning performance. He went on to win the contest, a recording contract, a big cash prize, a chance to sing for Queen Elizabeth and the title of "King of the Late Bloomers," which is awarded by me.

I hope that between the release of the Nancy Drew movie (which finally gives young girls a screen role model who refuses to display any organ in public other than her brain) and the triumph of Paul Potts, that we are seeing the beginning of a quiet cultural revolution, one in which we start celebrating intelligence, humility and genuine talent and no longer turn walking, drinking, snorting, flashing train wrecks into celebrities. I'm not holding my breath, but a girl can dream. Personally, if I were one of our current crop of camera-addicted, talent-deficient celebrities and I saw Paul Potts, I'd be ashamed to show my face in public again. But then, showing their faces in public wasn't what made most of them famous, anyway.

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And now, a few quickie news items...

Stanford University confirmed anecdotal reports that gastric bypass surgery changes the way alcohol is metabolized in the stomach, getting it into the blood stream faster and stronger, so that formerly obese people who've lost weight with a gastric bypass also get drunk faster and stay drunk longer, sometimes on just one drink. It's just the gift that keeps on giving! And women thought guys were buying them drinks because they were thinner.

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Elvira is teaming with Fox for a new reality show that they hope will give a bounce to their sagging ratings. It's called "The Search for the Next Elvira." Thirteen mammoth-mammaried misses will compete to become the buxom horror hostess's new doppelgangers (no, that's not a euphemism for breasts). Only on Fox would a show in which every woman in sight has giant breasts be considered "reality."

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Finally, from the "What Can Brown Do For You?" Dept., comes a report by the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute in Boston that tanning might be addictive. They believe the body's process that converts UV light into vitamin D releases endorphins that make people feel happy, like morphine. In tests, when frequent tanners were offered two identical-looking tanning beds, one of which didn't emit UV light, they unwittingly preferred the UV bed. And when eight frequent tanners were given a drug that blocks endorphins, four suffered withdrawal symptoms. They started drinking suntan lotion. The hard stuff, too: SPF 45.   Maybe some sort of Tanners Anonymous group could be formed with funds raised by celebrity spokesman George Hamilton.

All kidding aside, tanning is just about the worst thing you can do to your skin. I'm glad I knew to avoid it from an early age. If you think you'd look better in a darker shade, they have some excellent spray-on tans now (I tried a free sample at a spa last week on one arm. I was assured it would wash right off. It didn't, and I walked around for a week looking like I drive with one arm hanging out of the car.)   You might feel like a used car at Earl Scheib while they're applying it, but at least you won't end up with skin that looks like a buckskin wallet in 20 years.

JUNE 5, 2007

I'm told that tickets to our upcoming Rialto Theater performance of "Cole Porter" in Denison are going fast (the $35 VIP tickets that include a post-show reception with private mini-concert by Michael and me are already over 4/5ths sold), so please make your reservations right away if you'd like to come. It promises to be a fantastic evening, and I hope you'll join us for it. Contact info is here.

And now, a little age and beauty news...

Britain's Leeds University found that pop videos by skinny, hot-model girl groups such as the Pussycat Dolls are bad for adolescent girls' self-esteem (they aren't great for any woman's self-esteem, but we'll stick with the adolescents for now). Researchers say the videos glamorize "unhealthy and unobtainable" bodies that are at odds with actual body sizes in society. Their study found that adolescent girls experienced a drop in satisfaction with their own bodies after as little as 10 minutes of viewing Pussycat Dolls videos.

I'll bet their IQs also dropped 10 points. On the bright side, after growing up on videos, their attention span is only five minutes so they probably stopped watching before any damage was done.

No word on whether young boys who watched those videos experienced a drop or a rise, but I think we can all guess. Personally, I think that boys should also be taught that the women's bodies they see in Pussycat Dolls videos are completely unobtainable. That would save their future wives a lot of trouble down the road when their mid-life crises kick in.

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As if kids need further reason to believe their elders are evil, crazy and laughable, a study by Brigham Young University blames Disney cartoons for planting ageism in the minds of youngsters. They studied 93 characters who appeared to be over 55 in Disney movies going back 70 years. While a majority were wise and kind, like Geppetto from "Pinocchio," a significant number were either dim-witted, like Dopey (personally, I think of Dopey as younger; he just looks older because he's bald. With a little Rogaine, he could've had a shot at Snow White. At least he was funny, unlike that stiff, Prince Charming)...or nasty, like the hag in "Snow White," Cinderella's stepmother and Cruella DeVil. 15 percent of the films contained only negative older characters.

The researchers say Disney cartoons negatively influence children's view of elders by depicting aged characters as sinister, incompetent, helpless, hunched, toothless, senile, crazy or laughable, and with cracking voices and "saggy breasts." Like the Seven Dwarfs: Creaky, Craggy, Slumpy, Saggy, Wrinkly, Puffy and Oldy.

This just seems to me to be a reflection of the stories' origins in old Grimm Fairy Tales. Besides, you can always counteract it by letting your kids watch live action Hollywood movies, which will teach them that nobody over 55 has saggy breasts anymore.

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A rock group called the Zimmers has a big hit in England with a cover of the Who's "My Generation." The band consists of 40 elderly members with a combined age of over 3,000 years, and a 90-year-old lead singer (insert your own Rolling Stones joke here). The group was formed out of a BBC documentary on the problems of isolation for the elderly and was meant to demonstrate that age doesn't mean people can't try new things, which I can certainly get behind. And if Pete Townshend can still sing "Hope I die before I get old," so can they. After all, they've already outlived 50% of The Who. Check out the video of the song here, and if you like it, pay to download it. The proceeds go to charity.

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Finally, a celebrity quote, this time from Ellen Barkin, who was promoting "Ocean's 13" in Entertainment Weekly:

"Would I rather look the way I looked when I was 43? Yes. 33? No. I always thought women peaked between 36 and 43."

I won't bother arguing with that, but only because I find that I never agree with Ellen Barkin's pronouncements on age anyway. She's the one who set me fuming a few years ago when she said she doesn't wear slip dresses anymore because nobody wants to see a 50-year-old woman in a slip dress. I was amused to note that the above quote was accompanied by a photo of her from the movie in a hot and steamy scene with George Clooney, and she was wearing...wait for it...a slip dress! Quick, everybody: AVERT YOUR EYES!!...

May 24, 2007

MAJOR SHOW NEWS! We didn't want to schedule any public shows due to the uncertainty of our schedule, what with having our house up for sale and preparing to move to Las Vegas, but this was a booking we couldn't turn down. Michael Gott and I will be performing "Cole Porter: Elegance & Decadence" at the historic Rialto Theatre in Denison, Texas, as a benefit for the Denison Arts Council on Friday, June 29. How could we say no to such a worthy cause, and to playing in a theater built in 1920?   Denison is a lovely resort town on Lake Texoma, with lots of gorgeous art galleries. (UPDATE! VIP ticket buyers can join Michael and me at a catered reception in a lovely art gallery right next door, where we will perform a few more songs for you in a private mini-concert. But tickets are limited and going fast, so make reservations today! For ticket info, click here.)

Speaking of great music, did you see Tony Bennett singing "For Once In My Life" on the "American Idol" results show last night? Wow! So much for Simon Cowell's sneering that some singers or songs are "too old." Let's hope some of that greatness rubs off on the younger singers on stage with him. Also, if it was once possible to write songs as terrific as that, why did they have to go through 25,000 songs to come up with that horrible "This Is My Now" song? Are they seriously claiming that there are 24,999 songs in the world worse than that? I have songwriter friends who could burp better songs than that. They would be catchier and contain less gas.

Oh well, let's put that unpleasantness behind us and turn to a little age and beauty news...

Scientists at McMaster University in Canada put seniors with an average age of 70 on an exercise regimen and found that not only did they become stronger, but gene activity in samples of their muscle tissue began to resemble that of people much younger. So exercise can literally reverse aging!

Of course, this is no surprise to me. I began working out regularly at Bally's about a year ago, and I not only feel better and stronger, I look 20 years younger. People now mistake me for five.

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Here's a story about a British TV presenter who felt insecure after some louts on an Internet bulletin board insulted her looks so she went in for what the story calls by the Fleet Street nickname "Botox Lips," but I assume they really mean Restylane or collagen injections. She says she came out looking like Goldie Hawn in "First Wives Club" ("You look like your lips got caught in a pool drain"), and tried to pass it off as swelling from a riding accident before coming clean. Two lessons here: be more careful about choosing your cosmetic procedures and who provides them, and ignore what idiots say about you on the Internet. If you disagree with me, you're welcome to post a nasty, flaming, immature reply on my comments page. Oh wait: I don't have one of those.

See how easy it is to ignore people like that?

This story from the Daily Telegraph also includes a slide show of photos of unfortunate celebrity plastic surgery. If you want to see it, it's here. But I warn you: some of the photos are not for the squeamish.

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England's University of Warwick studied tests of more than 250,000 people worldwide and found that in general, men's minds decline faster with age than women's, possibly because they've worn them out filling them with sports statistics. Participants took four cognitive tests, such as remembering the location of objects in a drawing and typing the names of as many gray-colored objects as they could think of in a minute. The performance of both sexes declined with advancing age, but women declined significantly slower than men. But then, any married man will tell you that their wives never forget anything!

Study leader Elizabeth Maylor did caution that this is just a general trend, and said, "You can't sort of say, 'Oh, you're a man, so you're going to decline faster than me because I'm a woman.'"

Oh, what the heck, go ahead and say it; the man will probably forget it anyway...

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Finally, from London's Daily Mail, a very interesting interview with Joan Rivers, in which she talks about age, body image, the anger behind her comedy and the criticism she takes for getting so much plastic surgery, when she thinks everyone else in Hollywood does pretty much the same thing. A sample in which she explains the harsh early experiences that still drive her to constantly tinker with her looks...

"I am not a supermodel. I am not the one the men fall hopelessly in love with. I did not come from the lucky sperm club with all the money."

Is that why she has had so much work done? How ugly was the teenage Joan Rivers — or rather, how ugly did she think she was? Has she spent her whole life — and a chunk of her fortune — trying to be somebody else?

"I was not the prettiest girl in the class," she admits. "I was a very ordinary girl. If you come from my family your mother tells you over and over again that you are the most beautiful and wonderful thing and suddenly you go to school and you realise you're a pig."

Ironically, the cure for looking like a pig: getting injections of collagen from pigs.

May 18, 2007

I know everyone else has already commented on this by now, but it’s taken me all day to quit seething long enough to type and comment on Melinda Doolittle being VOTED OFF OF “AMERICAN IDOL!” I think I’m even more upset than I was when Jennifer Hudson was voted off, and for a couple of reasons:

First, in this case, the contestants who remain are so obviously inferior to the reject in talent (between Jordin's vibrato and Blake's beatboxing, the finale will come with a warning that epileptics should not watch it); and second, the handful of people on bulletin boards and chat rooms who wanted Melinda to go are making a big deal out of her age being a good reason to kick her off.

Melinda is a geriatric 29, the upper limit for singers, apparently; and people critical of her are saying that “American Idol” should be about “youth” (funny, I thought it was about singing ability, but I suppose that’s been disproved enough times that I really should know better). They also say that Blake and Jordin’s fans were younger and spammed the show with text message votes, while Melinda’s were older and didn’t vote as many times, what with the difficulty of having to clear the party line and get Gert the operator to patch them through to Western Union. And they say that Melinda shouldn’t win because her style of singing is too old-fashioned (translation: “on key”) and only appeals to older people, rather than “A.I.’s” young target demographic. In other words, she’d appeal to old fogies who still buy CDs instead of those young whippersnappers the record companies covet, the ones who illegally download music for free. Good move, "A.I.!"

Oh, well, let’s look on the positive side: At least Melinda will be snapped up by some label, and she’ll get to make the record she wants to make, rather than the treacly wad of poorly-produced corporate yuk that “Idol” winners are usually forced to put out. And America is a representative democracy, so I suppose it’s time tonedeaf people had their own singing idols.

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And now, let’s wash “American Idol’s” bad vibes (and bad vibratos) out of our minds with some positive news:

University of Pennsylvania researchers have made a breakthrough in developing a baldness cure: they discovered that a protein called "wnt" signals the body to regenerate new skin, complete with new hair follicles. In the lab, mice that had lost all their hair regrew fur all over their bodies. And who knows? Maybe someday, you can, too! Even totally hairless men could look like Robin Williams!

See, I told you I’d give you some positive news!

May 16, 2007

A couple of quick stories for your amusement:

Sylvester Stallone is facing fines totalling over $36,000 after pleading guilty Tuesday to illegally importing the banned human growth hormone Jintropin into Australia. He reportedly had 48 (!) vials of it in his luggage. He must've had to take steroids just to lift his bag full of HGH. The makers of Jintropin claim that it reduces fat, boosts muscle mass, improves sexual prowess and regenerates major organs (but obviously, not the brain).

Stallone swore that if he ever goes to Australia again, he'll leave his Jintropin at home. And he'll come home looking like Abe Vigoda.

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And here's one from the "Duh" file: researchers at Duke University have proven scientifically that men like to ogle women more than women like to ogle men.

Scans of the "reward centers" of the brains of 20 men and 20 women showed that men derived the same pleasure from looking at photos of a sexy woman that they did from eating a delicious curry or making money, which explains why they are willing to trade money for photos of attractive women, as well as eat curry off the bodies of attractive women. However, women derived no significant reward from looking at pictures of men. Which explains why Playboy has always outsold Playgirl. That, and the fascinating articles, of course.

In another test, men were willing to work longer at a computer to access photos of attractive women than to see neutral or unattractive women. In fact, many men put in eight hour days at work, doing nothing but that.

May 14, 2007