Back to the Future

While sitting at the salon getting my natural color reinstated around the scalp area, I couldn't help but overhear some of the older clientele discussing the regrets of their lives and the drawbacks of living on a fixed income. Pension plans and social security just don't cut it with today's rising prices. Margaret complained that the company her deceased husband had worked for filed bankruptcy, and she no longer received her rightful monthly checks. Jean spouted off about how her investment banker chose several bad investments, and now she had to move in with her daughter and felt she had become a burden.

These tales of woe saddened me. "It must really suck to get old," I thought to myself, glad it was never going to happen to me. These ladies should have known you cannot count on the government or bankers or companies to run your life -- you must live it yourself -- at least that's what the romantics tell us. Surely Jean and Margaret were once young, and surely they lived a life they thought was fulfilling yet responsible. Now they sit, and once a week try to outdo each other's tales of woe. "If only I hadn't. . . " they say. But they did -- as we all have -- as we all will. They say hindsight is 20/20, and we always know what we should have done, but if we could go back and change our past imperfects, would it guarantee a perfect future?

Who Stole My Happy

There was a time when a friendly game of Hide-N-Seek or a painfully bumpy ride down a Slip-N-Slide would cover my face with a smile -- of course those games are forbidden for grown-ups. If you don't believe me, try gathering a group of co-workers for a quick glide down a wet, yellow, plastic sheet and see how many takers you get.

As adults we tend to opt for thrilling games of Sudoku and tedious crossword puzzles. I still enjoy time with friends and the occasional trivia night, but the smiles don't come as easy as they once did. They require work and sometimes, after a long day on the job, I'm just not willing to put forth the effort. Yet I crave a full belly laugh -- the kind that leaves you snorting like a five year old. How did this come to be? Have I lost my youthful spark simply because I've aged, or is it hidden somewhere waiting form me to find it? When life gets bumpy and we're feeling as though time has slipped away, how do we find our happy?

A Question of Beauty

I don't think I am the only person who has said, "I hate my hair, and I wish my abs were flatter." Some of us may be described as, "big boned," or as, "having a slow metabolism," and these statements may be true. These sayings encourage us to go to the gym and count calories or carbs or whatever else the newest fad diet tells us to count. We go to great lengths to achieve personal standards of beauty. In America it is common to have our tummies tucked and our breasts enlarged. In more traditional cultures a long neck or shoulder-grazing earlobes are a symbol of beauty. There was a time, not so long ago, when white skin was in and a pleasant amount of plump was all the rage. Now we prefer a perfectly bronzed glow on a frail frame even though we know attaining these things are difficult if not impossible to achieve safely. To what extent are we willing to go to acquire our perceptions of beauty? Is it acceptable to bind our feet to fit in fashion forward shoes, or should we modify fashion to fit our bodies? When it comes to how we look. . . are we our own worst critics?

I Heard

I love dessert, always have, but I always wait until my plate is cleared before delving into a slice of decadent chocolate cake. Sarah, on the other hand, is more content to have dessert first and dinner after -- if there's room. One thing we both agree on is that a nice glass of wine with our meal makes the whole thing better, and why not? According to doctors, a glass of wine a day is good for the heart.

Life is full of good advice such as fresh flowers are uplifting for the spirit, healthy couples should argue now and then, and owning a pet will help you live a longer, fuller life. I suppose there is some truth to these wisdoms, but what about the person who drinks a glass of wine, two shots of tequila and a Cosmo? Still good for the heart? Maybe -- but not so good for the morning after. Sometimes good advice goes bad. People get plump from clearing their plates, allergens clog up not uplift, arguments lead to litigations and little Cujos not such a cuddly canine. In life, things will happen that seem like a great idea, but wind up doing more harm than good. Is there a way to separate the constructive from the crap, the favorable from the foul, the helpful from the hapless? Must we stumble into the pitfalls others have put before us in order to learn life's lessons? How do we learn to filter out bad advice?

Tough Enough to Overstuff

My friend Jodi and I sat digesting a fat laden, artery clogging, heart attack inducing lunch promising ourselves we would never eat like that again. We didn't either, that is until the dessert tray was brought to our attention. Loaded with luscious cheesecakes, scrumptious pies and tantalizing tortes we suddenly found room in our overstuffed stomachs. We rationalized we had parked almost a half mile away and partially up hill; surely we would walk off some, or maybe even most of the calories. Unfortunately we were scarcely able to move, so we sat and had a cappuccino while our bodies broke down the large quantities of sustenance received over the past hour. Who were we kidding? We knew we wold have to have parked in another country to walk off all we ingested -- and we also knew we would gladly do the same thing next week. If we know smoking pollutes our lungs, sunbathing ages us and eating like a cow could cause us to look like one, why do we insist these things will never happen? If the options are True or False, why do we try to fill in the blank? Do human impulses overwhelm human rationale?

Hotties and Hefties

I never thought of myself as gaunt until a guy I was interested in asked me if I had an eating disorder. "No," I answered more as a question than a statement. I knew I was thin (a.k.a. -- scrawny), but sickly never crossed my mind. "What nerve," I thought. I would never ask him if his robust 190-pound frame were due to eating a small child for breakfast, why should he inquire about my eating habits? I got to thinking about body image and what it means to each gender. A thin man is weak, but a thin woman is sexy and a muscular man is hunky, but a muscular chick is freaky and heaven forbid either should be hefty. How have we come to the point where being a hottie is more important than being healthy? When did topics such as diets and diuretics become choice dinner conversations? When did our bodies stop being our own and start becoming public property?

In the Name of Love

Last night, having nothing to do and no wine to drink, I watched a six hour movie marathon on Lifetime Movie Network (or as I call it -- Ladies Murder Channel). I watched jilted women kill their spouses for reasons of infidelity, abuse, and severe cases of PMS. All of these sounded logical enough except for the fact that each woman claimed to love her husband. I found this concept a bit odd. I love my partner, but am hardly willing to hack his head off with a rusty ax to prove it. I have, however, done many another compromising items to prove my love. I've started wearing underwear and engaging in threesomes to name a few. Friends of mine have made compromises as well, though less extreme, to honor their partners' wishes, yet none have killed as far as I'm aware. I've performed several acts I'm not too proud of and for which I've blamed the Devil or Jesus, but still I wonder. . . What are we willing to do in the name of love?