I work with a lovely, really smart young woman who handles our social media and my sanity. Here is the [...]]]> I’ve written about Victoria’s Secret before in a blog more than a year ago. I was insulting about it then, and am happy that I can present a different point of view this time.

I work with a lovely, really smart young woman who handles our social media and my sanity. Here is the text she sent me on Tuesday night:

“Hope you are watching the VS fashion show tonight. It’s a religious experience. The Super Bowl for women.”

She can’t be serious. It reminded me of the exchange in Something’s Gotta Give, when Nicholson mentions he can’t believe that Diane Sawyer got a job that didn’t show her fabulous legs, and Diane Keaton says something like, “You have got to be kidding me. The woman goes into the caves of Afghanistan with a schemata on her head for God’s sake. Who cares about her legs?”

I texted back to my friend: “Women in bathing suits? Why on earth would I want to do that? Are you high? I’m watching The Biggest Loser.”

The worst part about my text to her is that it was true. I was sitting on the couch eating an Eskimo Pie ice cream bar watching The Biggest Loser. Please don’t judge me, and don’t pretend you never watched it. I could have left out the part about the ice cream bar and held on to some shred of the self respect I lost by outing my TV habits, but I felt that an accurate description was important to the point I hope to make at some point in this entry. Besides, I’m trying to live an authentic life, so no more secrets.

She replied, “Bathing suits? It’s an art!! Most beautiful women in the world strutting their stuff and every one’s watching. At least TIVO it… so I can convince you to watch tom.” (“Tom” means “tomorrow,” for those of you who don’t speak twenty-something text vocabulary.)

“Sorry, it’s Biggest Loser for me.”

I thought about her text and reread it this morning.

Ok, is she so fabulous that she can rejoice in the perfection of another woman who will never reflect anything she is or hopes to be?

I always thought the VS fashion show was for men, and silly ones at that. You know who I mean, those ridiculous guys who slap each other on the back rather than hug hello, and who buy their significant other Victoria’s Secret stuff for their birthdays, which is really a gift for themselves.

My co-worker is a smart young woman. She may be smarter than me. She is cute and funny and has her shit together in many ways. I really felt the need to reflect on her ability to enjoy something that I find so abhorrent, and I had an a-ha moment—maybe this new generation of women will get it right. Maybe sexuality for them will not be wrapped up in male expectations of what they should be, but rather a celebration of what they are themselves and what other women are for themselves. Just as I take pride in Hillary Clinton as a really smart woman, even though I will never reach her intellectual heights, nor feel the worse for it. Just as I take pride in female athletes in the Olympics, even though I will never ski more than a mile an hour. OK, actually, I will never ski again, but you get the point. I’m not threatened by the successes of other women, but the women in Victoria’s Secret TV specials threaten the hell out of me. But maybe this upcoming group of women will just celebrate their bodies the way I celebrate other women’s intelligence and athleticism. Wouldn’t that be just the best?

I can hear you now. Sex is different than athleticism or intelligence. It’s how you catch the man. It’s the competition that is always there, even if you have supposedly won the race for the guy already. Well, maybe it doesn’t have to be that way, and maybe the generation now watching the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show will not find other women’s bodies threatening. Or at least maybe some of them won’t, and instead will celebrate them for their assets. I have to say it again: Wouldn’t that be just the best?

So, MBD, I will watch next year… maybe. And I would just like to add that the finale of The Biggest Loser is next week, and you may want to make sure to turn it on. A woman may actually win it, and since the guys she’s up against are exactly like the ones I described earlier, I’d really like her to beat them. NBC. Nine o’clock.

Dressing for business as a woman in the seventies/early eighties was much easier than it is now. We bought five or six suits from Brooks Brothers or Paul Stuart. If you didn’t need it to be a [...]]]> Men are so lucky. Their clothes are so much easier than ours. Always have been, always will be.

Dressing for business as a woman in the seventies/early eighties was much easier than it is now. We bought five or six suits from Brooks Brothers or Paul Stuart. If you didn’t need it to be a suit day, you would wear the skirt from one of the suits with a round collar, cable knit sweater, also from Paul Stuart or Brooks Brothers. Paul Stuart was more expensive, though, and I didn’t buy one of their suits until I was a VP at the United Way. I think it was $400, but I’m not sure. My favorite was the dark gray pin stripe. That was my ‘wear it on important meeting days’ suit. And we bought silk blouses, or men’s oxford shirts in women’s sizes. Lots of them. The silk blouses often had silk ‘ties’ that were sometimes attached so you never misplaced them. They were tied in a bow. If you were a woman on the rise, you bought a soft leather man’s briefcase (they didn’t have women’s bags like they do now). We bought either black or brown. I always bought black. Even then I tended toward black unless I could find something darker. Then we carried a smaller shoulder bag as well with the wallet, etc in it. Black or brown pumps (short ones), and we were on your way. Easy.

In the seventies, when I was fabulous at the United Way, a girlfriend and I wore men’s ties with our oxford shirts and suits. We knotted them like men do. We looked great. I used to ‘borrow’ the ties from whatever boyfriend I had at the time. One of my boyfriends was a very successful lawyer. He had Hermes ties, and I liked those the best. The colors worked so well with my suit colors. The only issue was that there was always a really long end (the smaller end that sits behind the tie) so the length of the tie wasn’t so long in the front. Sometimes I would just cut it off, especially if I’d broken up with the boyfriend and he hadn’t asked for the tie back. If he broke up with me (thanks a lot Mike Gibbons, you broke my heart), I for sure cut the end off. Mike Gibbons regretted breaking up with me and came back, but I was cool and told him “too little too late, Mike Gibbons,” just in case you were wondering.

Now-a-days anything goes, and I never know what to wear. I never look right. I’m still so stuck in the past in my clothing. And, now that I live in LA and everyone dresses so cheerfully, I’m really out of place. At least New Yorkers still recognize the beauty of black. I yearn for the days of knowing what to wear and everyone wearing basically the same thing. It occurs to me as I re-read this that the word ‘yearn’ should be reserved for things like world peace and your grandmother’s return from the dead, but I’m using it here anyway.

I am a leader, not a follower and I keep waiting for people to follow my black and gray dress code at work but it’s not happening. I might do a marketing campaign and put out to the business universe that any woman wearing anything other than black, gray or navy is a ‘ho. Might work. On the other hand, maybe I should just realize that I’m very busy and don’t have time to figure this out. The seventies are gone. No one wants to go to Barry Manilow with me. And no one wants to wear cut off men’s ties to work with soft leather men’s briefcases.

But just know all you fabulous women in business dressers out there, it was easier back when, and you would save a ton of money and be able to retire earlier, and your feet wouldn’t hurt, and you wouldn’t have to worry about what underwear to wear so it won’t show, and furthermore, you might just be known more for what comes out of your mouth than what you wore when you said it. Just kidding on the last part. I swear. I sound so bitter!

So, wear what you want. Make your statements and I will carry on with my black, gray and navy. Alas yet again.

Seeing Bush and Clinton together yesterday reminded me about the best of Americans. It’s no secret that I think Bush is just this side of the devil, but watching his first venture out of retirement with Clinton on the news programs Sunday [...]]]> Haiti. Where to begin? What to say? No words. What a surprise.

Seeing Bush and Clinton together yesterday reminded me about the best of Americans. It’s no secret that I think Bush is just this side of the devil, but watching his first venture out of retirement with Clinton on the news programs Sunday morning, I am reminded that the good in each of us lies in our ability to come together when necessary, when anyone needs us across this globe we all call home. Thanks George, I know it was not easy to do it, especially when idiot pundits start asking about the parallels between Katrina and Haiti, and what did you learn in Katrina that will help you deal with this more productively?

No tragedy this great has a parallel. It is unique unto itself. And, so was Katrina, and so was 9-11. Let us look at it without the haze of the past tragedies and let it have its own moment in time.

But, here is the thing. Haiti was a poor country in dire straights long before this earthquake rocked her shores. Actually, it’s the poorest country in the western hemisphere. Port-au-Prince is a city built to house 400,000 but 2,000,000 people live(d) there. For decades, the US has put billions into Haiti with little or no improvement in the quality of life for its citizens. Haiti’s crushing debt service of $50 billion per year has made her unable to grow, and the corruption that is as consistent as the lapping shores has made it virtually impossible for true change to take place. Lifting the trade restrictions is a must. Trying to make sure the billions of donated dollars get where they are supposed to go is another. You don’t give a five-year-old $100 in a candy store and expect them to buy a glass of water. Oversight. O V E R S I G H T.

What now for we individuals who feel compelled to do something? How to help? For me, it’s not money to one group or another. I’m not sure what I will do, but I think I will do it a year from now. I want to marinate in this feeling of obligation for awhile. I don’t want to purge it with a contribution in this compelling moment. I want to take time; put together a personal plan to do something that will be more than open my checkbook. Perhaps sponsor someone to come here and go to college; asking friends to group together to do it? Go down there for a month and build something with friends and family? I don’t know, but I do know that a $10 text message isn’t going to do it for me. Not this time. I did that with Katrina, and while it felt good in the moment, it wasn’t really the answer.

Haiti’s future is the gift from this tragedy.  That is the opportunity, or the glass half full, or the hope for a tomorrow. And, while it’s hard to even think about that right now, that’s the future for Haiti. It was bad before and we didn’t notice. I’m reminded yet again of the fabulous Oprah who said, “God first whispers to you, if you don’t listen, he speaks a little louder. If you still don’t listen, he hits you over the head.” Ok, you have my attention. I will not look away. I promise.

This is the pair I bought. Cute, don't you think?

My new shoes came with an accompanying CD-ROM to show me how to walk in them. They are ‘physiological footwear.’  Wow. They are called MBT Footwear and there is a whole theory behind them. I must mention here they are the most [...]]]>

This is the pair I bought. Cute, don't you think?

My new shoes came with an accompanying CD-ROM to show me how to walk in them. They are ‘physiological footwear.’  Wow. They are called MBT Footwear and there is a whole theory behind them. I must mention here they are the most expensive pair of gym shoes I ever purchased. I’m sure my cool Keds from the fifth grade are rolling over in their grave.

Their Web site shows how when you walk in the shoes, you roll rather than plant (my words), and therefore your posture is better, the strain on your joints is better, and your overall quality of foot-to-comfort ratio is better.

Just think, there are shoes that cure things like back problems, joint ailments, and according to them, neck problems.

The trouble is when I’m walking in them I look like my dog Luke when he’s stepping slowly and tentatively through crusty snow. I am so aware of the way I’m supposed to walk that I take small baby steps, can think of nothing else, and take one long time to walk from the kitchen to the couch which is obviously my most traveled personal corridor. Now there are benefits to the fact that I have to think about whether it’s worth it to make another trip to the kitchen for one more scoop of Haagen-Dazs, but I don’t know, it seems a bit much.

Truth is, I don’t want to have to think about my shoes and feet every time I take a step. I already have so much more to think about than those that went before me. Did I remember my iPhone? Did I remember the car cord to my iPhone? Did I remember to turn my car without a key off when I got out of it? (Let’s not discuss how many times my car has been running all night. Thank God my neighbors are not hoodlums.) Did I turn everything off in the house including the AC? Did I bring the address so I can plug it into the GPS? Did I bring picture ID (I went to Boston once to pick up my cousin, forgot my license, and had to sleep on the floor of the airport because you can’t get a hotel room now without a picture ID.)

So, with all the things I have to think about, I don’t want to think about my feet. But, now I am thinking about my feet and I feel badly about the way I’ve treated them for so many years. They carry the load without complaining. And, a heavy load it is. They look pretty good, my feet do, and haven’t spread much even though everything else has. They don’t get a pedicure anywhere near as often as my hands, and they don’t say a word. And, they pivoted really well when I used to play tennis, to say nothing of flexing in a stirrup for many years without complaint.

So, I’m going to try and watch the entire CD on my first steps with Masai Barefoot Technology. Shoe Technology. Surely we are all in deep trouble when we are dealing with shoe technology, but I’m going to have a good attitude about it. So roll away, feet of mine, and I will practice patting my head and rubbing my stomach at the same time. I’m sure it’s good for the brain synapses.