Stephanie Dolgoff's Blog, page 7

Just don't call me late for dinner

Me and my friend Julie and our kids were on the subway home from an outing, when Luke, who is five and unused to riding the subway (being from LA and all), wedged himself in a seat between Vivian and a man.

"That man is old!" he proclaimed. "Hi, old man!" Julie shot him a look and explained to me that they play a car game at home in which they pretend to be talking to the people they drive by, and that she's not sure that Luke gets that when you're not in a car, people can actually hear you. That would be because he's never not been in a car (being from LA and all).

The guy he was referring to was maybe 60ish, and good humored. He smiled to himself. Desirous of diffusing the awkwardness, I said, "Lucas, old people don't like being told that they're old. Especially mommies."

Which prompted my daughters' usual chorus of "You're not old, mommy!" which, although all three of us know it's an obvious attempt to stroke their poor vain mom's varicose veiny ego, we all laugh about, because, well, you have to laugh or what the hell else are you going to do? Get all lifted and injected, like a Real Housewife of Beverly Hills? And of course at 44 I am not old old, at least not as old as I hope to be someday.

Earlier in the day, when the kids were off playing, Julie and I were talking about the word fat. Many kids, including Luke and my girls when they were younger, blurted out "That lady's fat!" in front of some fat stranger, and not inaccurately, either. And yet our instinct is to slap our hands over our kids' mouths and apologize for them.

I'm not entirely sure why, exactly. Apologizing assumes "old" and "fat" are insults, which is in part what makes them so. One time, after an incident like that, Sasha, who was maybe three at the time, said, "But why can't I say it? She is fat!" The best I could come up with is, "It's not polite to talk about other people's bodies." But that's not really an explanation so much as another way of saying, "Shut the ef up before the lady gets mad at your mommy."

Fat, like old, is just an adjective, and often an apt one, in describing a person. It's not even inherently pejorative, like disgusting or despicable, and yet saying it, even if it's the God's truth, is not OK. I'm not sure what to call these presumed insults (who would want to be old? who would want to be fat?) that should, in my opinion, be stripped of all their associations and used like the words green, smooth or shiny are–neutral and not value laden. What would happen to their meaning if we did that? After all, maybe the guy Lucas sat down next to was a cancer survivor, and glad to be old because that meant he didn't already die.

So yeah, Luke sat down next to an old guy. Not ancient, Not even elderly, if we're working on shades of meaning. But was he young? No. And neither am I. Old may be pushing it, but when I am, feel free to point it out.

Photo by Ed Yourdon CC

Compliments of the gentleman

My best friend Julie is in from LA and we went to this little Thai place near my house. We've been friends since we were 14, and locked in conversation even if we saw each other every day, as we did when we were roommates in our 20s. But since we haven't hung out in forever and are both going through divorces and all they entail, we had to take turns eating our tofu with peanut sauce to allow the other to say her piece.

A frequent subject back then was men what to make of their silliness. We spent hours dissecting the precise way they said, "Hey," when they passed us in the office, or why they'd say they'd call and then not do it ("I mean, then why say it?!?"). It all seemed to matter so much, as if we decoded their bizarre boy behavior we'd unlock the secret to heterosexual happiness.

The subject tonight, two decades later, was men and what to make of their silliness, although it wasn't nearly as urgent as it seemed back then. By now we know there is no secret to romantic happiness no matter whom you're attracted to, just a bunch of human beings with various body parts wandering around the planet looking for happiness and as often as not accidentally hurting one another. As rotten as our recent experiences have been, though, we spoke of these male creatures with a lot more forgiveness and appreciation of all shades of gray, perhaps because we've got more grays ourselves.

About a third of the way through dinner, the waitress came over and informed us that "a gentleman" would like to buy us a drink.

First, let me say it was not that kind of restaurant–not swank, no bar as far as I could tell. He might have had better luck if he sent us over some chicken on a stick.

Secondly, we were literally just discussing our future romantic prospects and I was urging Julie to move back to NYC, where (despite the legendary dearth of excellent guys to pair off with the abundance of excellent women) it's a hell of a lot easier to feel attractive than in LA, where "tits on a stick" and bleached out hair and skin pulled as tight as a drum seems to be the beauty ideal. Here, you get a lot more leeway.

"See?" I said to Julie. "Case in point."

We swiveled to evaluate our benefactor. He was about 20, and looked like the lead in Napolean Dynamite. He had a white guy afro, which could signify downtown hipster, or it could mean he simply hasn't discovered the hair care product section of the Duane Reade. He was staring off into space, at a point just beyond us (he was either politely giving us room to discuss whether to accept his drink, or terribly nearsighted and too vain to wear glasses.) He was either really super James Bond bold, or had nothing invested in our reply, he'd been dinged that many times. Hard to tell, but we were not in a let's-find-out mood.

"That guy?" asked Julie. He was the only guy in the restaurant. No place for him to hide. The waitress nodded. I looked at Julie, who discretely shook her head no.

"Tell him thanks so much, but we haven't seen each other in a long time and we've got a lot to talk about," I instructed the waitress. I didn't want him to feel bad.

Neither did Julie, who turned to face him and said, "Thanks, thanks so much," and smiled. He shrugged, came over and apologized.

"I'm sorry. I was being too forward. I didn't mean to ruin your meal. I just thought you were very attractive." He aimed his comment at Julie. Then he went back to sit down. Julie opened her eyes wide at me and we were instantly conscious of not wanting to hurt his feelings, something that would not have stopped us from, well, hurting his feelings when we were younger.

I think we both sensed that he was a fragile youth. Julie is a social worker. She wondered aloud why he was eating alone. Did he have a viable support network? My instincts were more maternal. Technically, I could have given birth to him. And he didn't seem to be reading social cues properly, coming over to our table after we'd just turned down his drink. Perhaps he's on the autism spectrum…did his own mom rule that out, I wondered? He needed a nice haircut, is all, and maybe some Clearasil.

Julie and I went back to talking, careful not to laugh too loud, lest he think we were laughing at him. I felt like I feel after one of my daughters does something kind of bold but that doesn't work out. I wanted to urge him not to give up, that just because Julie and I weren't interested doesn't mean a more age-appropriate girl who likes somewhat matted afros and guys who wear those retro gym shorts from American Apparel and who is is thirsty might not be.

As we were settling up, he came over again, and reiterated his apology. I assured him that there was no need to apologize and that we were flattered. "I'll bet you both have boyfriends, don't you? I just think you're really good looking," he said, this time to me. (If I had a son, I'd advise him to target one girl out of a duo and make her feel special, rather than firing scattershot, hoping to hit something.)

"No," Julie replied. "We both have ex-husbands, though, and we're really just here to hang out with each other." He mumbled something about knowing what that's like, what with his ex-girlfriend and all. I said that we were talking a much larger magnitude of ex. "Oh," he said. He didn't close his mouth all the way after speaking. If he were my son, I'd point that out.

After we left, we both sighed, and then cracked up. "See? We've still got it!" I said. "Right? I mean, if worse comes to worse?"

"Yeah!" She agreed, laughing until her belly hurt. "I should totally move back here."

And she should. Someone has to watch out for that young man.

Photo by Julia Elena Marquez CC

Putting your Kids Second (HuffPo)

Big grumpy controversial piece from June 2011. You can read it here.

Bumper Sticker Wisdom (SELF magazine)

This piece ran in early 2011 and is one of my recent favorites.

happiness
How I Discovered Bliss…From Bumper Stickers
Sometimes wisdom comes in the most unexpected places. Like the back of a car. —Stephanie Dolgoff











Related links


How to Be Your Truest Self
Use Your Mind to Heal Your Body
Healthy SELF

I was headed home from a weekend yoga retreat, and my brain must have been unusually uncluttered because I found myself noticing things I'd never noticed before—the way the road seemed to rise to meet the wheels of the bus I was on, how the turn signal clicked in time to the music on the radio. And the bumper stickers on the cars we passed on the highway.…Was it only me, or were some, like, incredibly profound?

Did I mention I'd just done quite a bit of yoga?

Seriously, apart from the occasional eye roller ("I had a handle on life, but it broke") and snarky worldview ("Just when you think life's a bitch, it has puppies"), I spotted quite a few that seemed to convey a universal truth or, at least, made good sense. It got me wondering: Was it possible to espouse a wise life philosophy on a sticker slapped on the back of a Prius?

To find out, I contacted experts in various fields to see if I should yield to these pithy sayings or let them recede in the rearview mirror. What I discovered: Happiness may be all around you. You simply have to slow down and notice it.

Not all who wander are lost.

I doubt that this quote, adapted from J.R.R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings, is much comfort to parents whose grown children work in Starbucks while taking pottery classes, then move to China to teach English and ultimately return home to become Zumba instructors. Fortunately, I'm not one of those parents (yet). To me, this homily means that even when someone seems to lack a long-term plan, that doesn't mean she's flailing. She may simply be an in-the-moment planner. "People who rely on intuition to decide their path may come off as aimless, but they might simply prefer a nonlinear approach to life," says Richard Bolles, author of the best-selling career-seeker's bible What Color Is Your Parachute?

Of course, some folks who wander, do, in fact, need a Saint Bernard to track them down, give them a shot of brandy and shepherd them inside before they die of exposure. How to tell if you're in need of some guidance? You might want to consult a friend (preferably a nonjudgmental one) who appreciates your way of thinking but who can also remind you that, although your new ambition to be a trapeze artist might make you happy, it could delay your long-held plan of getting pregnant. "It also helps to jot down answers to questions like 'When did I enjoy myself today?' and 'What did I learn?'" Bolles says. What's crucial is tuning in to your feelings, then paying attention to them as you find your way to your passion.

Those who discourage your dreams have likely abandoned their own.

Back in college, I had a cynical friend who, when I'd told him how jazzed I was by the positive feedback I'd gotten from my first-ever published article, said, "Great writers write what must be written. They're not looking for praise." He then suggested that my personality was better suited to a more quotidian profession with a steady paycheck than to a potentially unstable writing career. At first, I felt like a squashed insect. Then I thought, What a jerk.

Read the rest HERE

Will You Live to 100? (Health magazine)

This one's a toughie to copy into here, so read the whole thing at the Health.com website. Here's the sidebar, about the biggest myths about living long.

My lunch with Jillian Michaels (for Fitness)

Live Big: Jillian Michaels on Exercise, Weight Loss, and The Biggest Loser

The larger-than-life TV trainer is actually petite, pretty, and potty-mouthed off camera. Here Jillian Michaels reveals the real reason she left The Biggest Loser, the one exercise she hates but never skips, and the pro trick that will supercharge your metabolism.

By Stephanie Dolgoff

Read it here

Keeping your heart healthy (for Health)

This ran in February, 2011

How to Keep Your Heart Healthy


What your pants size, your dog, and even your visits to the dentist have to do with keeping your ticker in tip-top shape

Stephanie Dolgoff, Health




Find more

How Stress Can Break Your Heart - Literally
The 10 Best Foods for Your Heart
9 Surprising Heart Attack Risks

We know, you've heard all this heart-health stuff before: Get your cholesterol down. Take that Spinning class. Order the salmon. Yawn. But there are some things you may not have heard about how to keep this marvelous muscle going strong: Check your waistband. Pay attention to your pregnancies. Don't skip date night. Intrigued? Check out the latest ways to show your heart some love.

You know: to eat right and keep your weight down.

You maybe didn't know: We're not just talking about nixing marbled steak and trans-fat-filled fries. It's also about blood sugar, says Nieca Goldberg, MD, director of the New York University Women's Heart Program and a spokeswoman for the American Heart Association. Your body responds to high blood sugar by pumping out more insulin to try to turn that sugar into energy. "Too much insulin raises your triglycerides and causes inflammation of the arteries, making them more vulnerable to hardening," Dr. Goldberg explains.

Do this: In addition to choosing a diet low in saturated fat, trans fat, and cholesterol, eat lots of fiber-rich fruits, vegetables, and whole grains, says Nakela Cook, MD, MPH, medical officer at the National Heart, Lung, and Blood Institute (NHLBI). Also, go easy on sweets and refined carbs, which can send blood sugar and insulin levels soaring. The American Heart Association recommends having just 6 teaspoons of added sugar per day.

Read more here

My floppy belly (for Fitness magazine)

This appeared in Fitness in April, 2011

Fed up with my abominable abdominals, I turned to lab docs for help in separating fact from flab. Here's what to know to lose the excuses — and the crunches.

By Stephanie Dolgoff

How to Lose Belly Fat

The first time it happened I was in my early twenties, straphanging in a crowded New York City subway car on my way to work. I was wearing a slim-fitting T-shirt dress, one that for reasons that will soon become horrifyingly clear, I subsequently used to scrub out the litter box and then tossed. The seated woman I was standing in front of met my eyes and smiled. Then she stood up. I smiled back and stepped to the side so she could make her way to the door. She stood right next to me.

"Would you like to sit?" she asked kindly. "I remember how tired I was during my pregnancy. You look like you're into your second trimester; it gets easier."

Keep reading here

Off topic

A little piece I did for HuffPo…

Stephanie Dolgoff





When Kids Come Second

My husband and I have split up, and although it was my decision to leave and it remains the right one, it sucks. We were married almost 10 years and have two daughters, so it was a hideous outcome to arrive at after trying so hard not to. Divorce was the less sucky of the two sucky options I saw before me, but that fact doesn't mitigate the suckitude one iota.

That divorce is hard is not news. It's like when people say marriage is hard. It's obvious, a tremendous understatement, and yet when it comes out of someone's mouth, everyone clucks and nods in empathy and truly seems to know exactly what the speaker means, even though they were told nothing. It's so outrageously, undeniably true and universal that it requires no explanation, no elaboration, for people to instantly relate and silently run their minds over their current apparently intractable struggle. When you're going through a life changing personal matter that you'd rather not discuss, lazy, somewhat cliched distillations like that can come in mighty handy. "Divorce is hard" is my go-to summary when well-meaning people ask me how things are going and I sense that they don't want more than a fleeting peek into my emotional life.

READ THE REST AT HUFFINGTONPOST.COM

Lawyer up, ladies!

You might need to sketch out a diagram, but see if you can keep up: A 35-year-old model's un-made up face was used as the "before" picture for an Origins anti-aging product, allegedly without her permission. The "after" image was then doctored to show the supposed benefits of the product, which is aimed at 40- to 65-year-old women, who of course are willing to raid their 401Ks to pay for whatever will make them look, well, like they are still in their 30s.

But the woman in her 30s, in real life a former Sports Illustrated swimsuit model named Caroline Louise Forsling, looks like the "before" picture. Only through the magic of photoshop can even she look like she's "supposed to" look, which is to say, in her 20s. Not for nothing, Forsling probably looks better than the average woman in her 30s to begin with. That's why she gets to be a model. Oh, and did I mention she's Swedish?

Forsling is, of course, suing, claiming her career has been damaged because she's been thrust into this older category (death to a model) and that she has never used the product.

I think we are the injured parties here, don't you?

Read more about it here and here.

Photo from the Daily News.