Barbie, keepin' it real

When last we left Barbie, back in December, she was recovering from her failed presidential run.

What has she been up to since then?

Well, as we learned from this just-released new video, Barbie's once again living in New York, commuting to/from work, doing yoga, and getting her Starbucks like the rest of us....



Will Barbie run again for President in 2020?

"I'm just taking things one day at a time," says Barbie. "Right now, I'm focusing on mindfulness, being in the here and now."

FUN ASIDE: Back in the day -- the day being 1959 -- Commuter Barbie went to/from work dressed like this:

(Wonder where she fit her yoga mat...)

Donald Trump and Pussy Galore

While pretty much everything that spews forth out of Donald Trump's mouth is vile, I just cannot get worked up over his use of the word pussy. Seriously, of all the slang and pejorative terms for a woman's genitalia, aka vagina (rhymes with China), pussy is the one we're having issues with? Seriously?

[Btw, if you didn't see Samantha Bee's "Vagina Monologue" in her segment on the Donald Trump Access Hollywood tape last night, you can watch it here. It is must-see TV IMO.]

But getting back to pussies.... You people ever hear of a book, later made into a film by the same name, called Goldfinger, featuring a guy by the name of James Bond? The film, released in 1964, was tremendously popular and some 40-plus years after it was made you can still watch it on TBS and BBC America regularly.

Any of you recall the name of the femme fatale in Goldfinger? Here, let me help you, Pussy Galore. I don't recall it inciting riots, then or now, but I am sure someone will correct me if I am wrong. (FYI, in the book, Galore was a lesbian.)

Donald Trump was likewise dreaming if he thought that women wanted him to grab them -- by their pussy, or anyplace else -- and kiss them. Though, this scene from the film, as described in Wikipedia, sounds frighteningly Trumpian:

"Bond corners Galore in a barn and forcibly holds her down (while she tries hard to fight him off) and kisses her. The film then shows a massive change in personality where she seems to welcome the earlier assault, putting her arms around Bond. She then secretly turns against Goldfinger."

Maybe the problem with Donald Trump is that he thinks he's James Bond.

While we are on the topic of James Bond and women, who could forget this priceless (totally male chauvinistic) exchange from Diamonds Are Forever?



Ivanka is lucky she wasn't named after her father. Otherwise we might now know her as Short-Fingered Vulgarian or Cheeto Jesus or Clown Face.

NOTE: To anyone reading this who thinks I am in any way condoning Trump's behavior, I am not. There is zero excuse for sexual assault. But many people (see "Trump Supporters") seem to be way more worked up about the use of the word pussy than by Trump's actions, which is wrong.

It's not easy being a beauty queen

When I was growing up, if I was complaining about having a bad hair day, or my weight, or zits, my father, may he rest in peace (or be playing scratch golf somewhere in Heaven, or wherever), would always say to me, "It's not easy being a beauty queen."

Dad, you didn't know the half of it. And thank goodness I wasn't (and am still not) a beauty queen.

Most men don't realize all the grueling grooming and primping beauty queen contestants go through. And I'm not even talking about boob jobs, liposuction, or other cosmetic surgery. I'm talking about all the dieting and exercise -- and the tweezing, shaving, waxing, and/or electrolysis they endure, just so they can look good strutting down a runway in high heels and a bikini.

Of course, it's no longer just beauty queens who endure often painful or uncomfortable treatments in order to achieve some level of what modern society deems "beauty," or "beautiful." Business is booming for cosmetic surgeons and dermatologists and waxing and beauty salons. And just try and watch TV without seeing an ad for some female personal grooming product, like this one entitled "Topiary" for Schick's Hydro Silk TrimStyle razor*:



[Memo to the folks at Schick: I don't care how sharp your razor is. No way is it sculpting a heart, or a rectangle or triangle, on my or any other woman's "bikini area." And the rash you would get afterward kind of defeats the purpose.]

Is some personal grooming bad? No. (Which reminds me, I need to get my hair cut. The stuff on top of my head, guys. Geez.) But I worry about the message society is sending to young girls and women about what really matters -- not brains or good deeds but perfect skin and perfect bodies and not having hair someplace other than on their heads.

Maybe instead of buying a Schick Hydro Silk TrimStyle we women should purchase a copy of Beauty Fades, Dumb is Forever: The Making of a Happy Woman by Judy Sheindlin, aka Judge Judy, a successful, respected woman who has an estimated net worth of $250 million -- a lot more than most beauty queens.

*Okay, you are probably way more likely to see ads for cars and trucks, and beer, and hair restorers than see an ad for the Schick Hydro Silk TrimStyle, or Palmer's Cocoa Butter, on ESPN or NBC or CBS Sports, or on Football Sunday. But you never know. 

W(h)ither feminism?

So yesterday I took the teenager for her quarterly haircut and overheard the following conversation between her and her hairdresser, a lovely young woman in her late 20s who has been working since she graduated from high school and is about to be married to her long-time beau:

The Teenager: When I graduate [from college], I'm going to live on Hawaii -- and in Paris. And you can come stay me!

The Hairdresser: Well, I'm going to live on Hawaii, too, so I won't have to stay with you.

The Teenager: Awesome! Well, you can come visit me in Paris!

The Hairdresser: That would be great!

Me: And, um, how exactly are you going to maintain homes in both Hawaii and Paris, Teenager? Are you going to be someone's private chef? [The Teenager is an excellent cook and wants to become a nutritionist and private or personal chef when she graduates from college, or graduate school.]

The Teenager: No, I'm going to marry a rich man!

[Over 40 years of feminism flashes before my eyes -- and dies.]

Me: How about you become the rich woman?

The Teenager: ---

Me: Never be dependent on someone else, Teenager. Even if you do marry a rich man, work or make sure you have your own money.

The Hairdresser vigorously nods. The Teenager does not reply.

For those of you wondering where she got this idea, it wasn't from me. (I've been working since I was a teenager and have worked all of her life, albeit mostly from home and part time recently, though that hasn't been entirely by choice.) And she's not the only young woman -- far from it -- who dreams of marrying a rich man, or the man being the rich one.

Ladies, where did we go wrong?

Sluts, bitches & hos: Women, the last bastion of denigration

As we have learned in the last few weeks, making racist, racially charged, or anti-gay comments or slurs is now a punishable, or fireable, offense. Or at the bare minimum will incur the collective wrath of social media, celebrities, bloggers, Liberals, the main stream press, and, on occasion, even Republicans.

But it is still fine to slur, denigrate, demean, or slut-shame women! 

I know, PHEW! Right, bitches? I mean, we wouldn't want Rush Limbaugh or Bill O'Reilly to lose his job or be suspended, right*? And what would life be like without rap music?

And lest you think that guys are the only ones getting away with saying awful, humiliating things about women, just check out all the press around Monica Lewinsky this week.

While society has taken steps to ban or punish bullying in other arenas (at school and online), apparently it is still a-okay to denigrate or humiliate, or "slut shame," a woman for something stupid and naive she did, consensually, with a married man who should have known better, at the age of 22.

And you know who are the worst offenders? Women! WTF? Seriously, WTF, ladies?

Shame on us.

I'm not saying that it's okay for women, of any age, to go around seducing, or trying to seduce, married men. It is not. But find me one college age or slightly older female who hasn't lusted after a married professor, rock star, celebrity or famous person, who wouldn't have jumped at the chance to have "sexual relations" with that man.

Indeed, at Hillary's alma mater back in the 1980s, trying to seduce the (often married) male professors was a sport.

We women can be such hypocrites.

And it's not just the Monica Lewinskys who get the abuse (deservedly or not). Any woman who is deemed too flirtatious, too aggressive, too threatening, or too whatever, especially if she is attractive -- even if she hasn't done anything wrong -- is fair game.

We women can't win. You turn down a guy, you're a bitch (according to the guy). You don't turn him down, you're a slut (according to other women).

By the way, of the 201 slang words for women, the majority are derogatory and have to do with sex (and loose morals), while there are only 72 slang terms for a man, the majority of which are not really pejorative, mate.

And while I applaud society cracking down on racists, bigots, and homophobes, I wish sexism and misogyny, vicious anti-female comments and slurs, were greeted with the same ire and intolerance. (Ditto anti-Semitism, but that's another blog post.)

*For the record, former shock jock Donald Imus was not fired from WFAN back in 2007 because he jokingly referred to the Rutgers women's basketball team as "hos." It was because Imus called them "nappy-headed hos," i.e., he used a racial slur. (Just Google "Donald Imus firing." Almost all the articles cite Imus as using a racist or racial slur, not the fact he called the women hos.)

What's the matter with being brunette?

As a proud brunette, I have never understood why so many of my sister brunettes dye their hair brown -- especially when the blonde hue looks so obviously fake.

Do any of these celebrities really look better as blondes than as brunettes? (That would be a rhetorical question.)

Not that I am a fan of Kim Kardashian, but wtf?

Do you really think you look better as a blonde, Kim? (Personally, I blame this on Kanye.)

Seriously, what's the matter with being a brunette?

Am I missing something here? (Clearly, I was not in line when Clairol was handing out the blonde Kool-Aid, even though apparently my mother was.)

According to various studies, there is no conclusive proof that gentlemen prefer blondes (despite the successful 1953 movie with Jane Russell, a curvaceous brunette, and Marilyn Monroe, a former brunette). Indeed, in several studies when men were given photos of the same woman with various hair colors (brunette, blonde, and redhead), the brunette was equally or more attractive than the blonde.

Is it because blondes have more fun?

[FYI, I am pretty sure the "blonde" in the photo is my mother, a former model -- and brunette.]

More fun than whom, brunettes and redheads? And what do you mean by "fun"? If by "fun" you mean spending several hours and hundreds of dollars every few weeks at some beauty salon or spa dying your hair, than yes, blondes do have more fun than us brunettes.

By the way, that slogan, "Is it true... blondes have more fun?" which launched a million (more) blondes, was the work of Shirley Polykoff, a talented copywriter who was tasked with helping Clairol make dying one's hair acceptable. Polykoff's campaigns were so successful that between 1956, when she came up with her first campaign, "Does she or doesn't she?" and 1962, sales of Clairol hair dye jumped from $25 million to $200 million. And today, hair coloring is an over billion dollar a year industry. Clearly, someone's having fun.

Don't get me wrong. I have nothing against natural blondes. (Okay, maybe a little something. But that's for a different blog post.) I just don't understand why so many perfectly attractive brunettes feel the need to dye their hair blonde. Almost all the dye jobs I've seen aren't even very good. And you can tell by their roots that they are brunettes.

Sigh.

Thank goodness for Katy Perry -- a blonde who became successful after she dyed her mane brown.

What's in a name?

As a writer, I always get a little nervous when people talk about banning words.

Yes, in a perfect -- or just civil -- world, there would be no bad or pejorative words, words used to show contempt or to belittle or disrespect another person. But more often than not, the real culprit, or evil-doer, is not the word but the person speaking or using it.

Words, while they can be cruel, or cruelly used, only have the power to hurt or to harm if you allow them to (except in the case of libel or slander).

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never harm me.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not endorsing the use of hateful or hurtful words. But I don't think the solution is to ban them.

Which brings me to the Ban Bossy movement. Brought to you by Sheryl Sandberg's nonprofit LeanIn.org organization and Girl Scouts of USA, Ban Bossy is an effort to help instill confidence in young girls -- to encourage their leadership skills and initiative instead of disparaging or belittling their attempts to lead or take charge by labeling them as "bossy." Or as Ban Bossy puts it:

When a little boy asserts himself, he's called a “leader.” Yet when a little girl does the same, she risks being branded “bossy.” Words like bossy send a message: don't raise your hand or speak up. By middle school, girls are less interested in leading than boys—a trend that continues into adulthood. Together we can encourage girls to lead.

As someone who was called bossy more times than she can remember (and is still called bossy), I get it. Though it never held me back. (Hey, someone's got to take charge. Might as well be me.)

But instead of banning the word bossy, why not teach girls to ignore it -- or to embrace their bossiness?

Indeed, why not start a movement to turn the word from being something pejorative into something positive? After all, you can't spell bossy without B-O-S-S. And doesn't everyone want to be the boss, or head, or supervisor, of something, or someone? Isn't that what Sheryl Sandberg has been preaching when she talks about "leaning in," to get women to take charge of their lives, to embrace their inner boss and go for it?

Once upon a time, not that long ago, bitch was a pejorative term to describe a certain kind of woman (cruel, immoral). And in some cases, it still is. But today when we call someone a bitch goddess, it means she is wildly successful.

Not that I'm encouraging people to call little girls bitch goddesses.... 

But being called a bitch never bugged me either. Instead of taking the term as an insult, I took it as a mark of the speaker's lack of vocabulary or intelligence -- or dislike of women (or women who speak their minds).

In fact, when one charming boss (hi Jonathan!), who had a reputation for making his female reports cry (and for banging his shoe on a desk), called me a bitch, I smiled and looked him in the eye and said, "You know the difference between a slut and a bitch? A slut will sleep with anyone. A bitch will sleep with anyone... except you." He never called me a bitch again.

So instead of banning words like bossy, let's embrace our inner bitch goddesses, ladies, and show the world who's boss.

Love isn't blind. It's deaf.

As I have gotten older, I have come to realize that love isn't blind. It's deaf.

How else can you explain all those marriages where the women is an avowed Liberal Democrat and the husband is an avowed Conservative Republican (or vice versa)?

Or those marriages where the woman constantly nags and belittles the man, in public or in front of friends, putting him down or contradicting him?

Or those relationships where the man constantly insults the woman or completely ignores what she says?

Just watch an episode of HGTV's House Hunters or House Hunters International (which the spouse and I do, frequently). How else can you explain why these couples, who often have wildly divergent tastes and requirements and concepts of money, and disparage or ignore one or the other, are together? It must be because one or both are deaf. (Or she is, or was, gorgeous, and/or great in bed, or he's got loads of money or is a hunk.)

From personal experience, I know that being a little deaf can go a long way. How else can you explain the spouse and I being together for 23 years now? Of course, it could be my sparkling wit. (Lord knows it ain't my cup size.)

Anyway, what do you all think? Is love deaf? Or maybe some men and women have a mute button when it comes to certain things. Or their brains translate nagging or insults into words of endearment... or a request for beer.

[For more on this topic, check out my post titled "The Secret to Happiness." So true.]

It's like Santa... for your vagina

This is either one of the most brilliant marketing campaigns or concepts for selling feminine products or one of the worst -- depending on whether you think it's cute or inappropriate for an 11- (or possibly 12-) year-old girl attending sleepaway camp to play Camp Gyno.



[H/T to Melanie]

Introducing HelloFlo, a new tampon and sanitary pad subscription and delivery service. (Think of it as the Dollar Shave Club for menstruation.)

In a world filled with CVSs, Walgreens, Walmarts, Targets, and supermarkets, I personally don't see the need for a tampon delivery service, even if the box contains candy. (Though as any woman with PMS can tell you, really good chocolate and a box of Midol or Ibuprofen would be more appropriate.) And even if you are the sort who hates to shop for feminine products, how does a box of tampons shipped to your home help you if you are "surprised" at the office or on vacation?

Or maybe this a brilliant idea and I just don't get it. What do you think?

Talk about a hair-raising experience!

For those of you who have ever groused about having just washed your hair and not being able to do a thing with it, check out this great video from astronaut Karen Nyberg on how she washes her hair while on the International Space Station.



[H/T BusinessInsider.com]

Talk about a hair-raising experience.

Personally, I would have cut my hair before going into outer space. It would have certainly saved on aggravation and water. But I'm no rocket scientist.

[The spouse watched the video, titled "Inside the ISS - Hair Raising Hygiene!" with me. He liked it, but he still thinks astronaut Chris Hadfield's video cover of David Bowie's "Space Oddity," filmed on board the International Space Station, is better. And I have to agree. Though thank you, Karen Nyberg, for answering that (rocket) age-old question, How do you wash your hair in space? Now if only some enterprising astronaut could figure out how to get a cat aboard the ISS and film it....]

When your bikini days are numbered

[Alternate title: Gravity is bringing me down.]

I have a love/hate relationship with summer. Mostly it's love.

I love the warm weather. I love seeing leaves on the trees and flowers everywhere. I love the extra hours of daylight. I love not hearing the teenager bitch about school. I love being able to sleep a little later in the morning. I love watching baseball (or I do when the Mets don't completely suck). And I love taking long walks on the beach.

Or at least I used to love going to the beach. Before we all became paranoid about skin cancer -- and the annual ritual of trying or putting on a bathing suit didn't make me depressed.

Fortunately, there are lotions and sprays (and clothes and hats) that can protect you from the sun's damaging UVA and UVB rays. Sadly, however, there is nothing, at least not yet, that can truly prevent or alter the effects of gravity.

Gravity is a bitch. No matter how healthy your diet or how much you exercise, or avoided the sun and nicotine, you can't fight gravity -- or old age. Unless you are one of the lucky people who inherited anti-gravity genes. Which, sadly, I am not.

Even so, I had hoped that having worked out regularly since I was 16, having eaten a healthy diet for over 20 years, having drunk alcohol in moderation all my adult life, not smoking, and wearing sunblock (and not staying out overlong in the sun) would ward off or delay the onset or onslaught of wrinkles and sagging. Wrong! (Note to self: Buy rum and pina colada mix in town tomorrow.)

Now it is summer again. Time to unbox my swimsuits and figure out which ones stay and which ones go. Each year, the decision gets harder -- as I take a longer, harder look at myself in the bathroom mirror and silently weep at the extra folds of skin that were not there last season. And I think to myself, am I now too old, and too saggy, to wear a bikini? Do bikinis have an expiration date, or just the women wearing them?

Because a vagina is a terrible thing to waste

So when I opened NYTimes.com this morning, what should I see at the top of the page, right there in the middle, but the great big headline "Unexcited? There May Be a Pill for That!" about a new drug called Lybrido that purports to help women suffering from HSDD (Hypoactive Sexual Desire Disorder), aka a low sex drive.

My first reaction? Lybrido? Seriously? Did George Jetson's dog Astro name this thing? ("Jane doesn't want to have sex with George anymore? Ruh-roh. Rust be something wrong with her lybrido!")

My next reaction, Sure, announce this after Saturday Night Live goes on summer break.

And finally, so when did a woman not wanting to have sex several times a week with her husband -- the guy she's been married to for a billion years, who is rarely at home, who doesn't understand what it's like to deal with three hormonal teenagers, who never asks her how she's doing, and plays golf with his buddies on the weekend* -- become a disease that needed to be treated? Puh-lease. If that was the case, almost every woman in my County would be required to take Lybrido.

Joking aside, though, I get that there are women out there who can't get it up psychologically and would welcome a pill that makes you horny. (Usually a glass of Champagne and some oysters do it for me, or a good pastrami and turkey sandwich on rye, but I'm easy.)

Me, I'm waiting for scientists to develop a pill that stops people from acting like jerks. (Just think of the name possibilities!)

*Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Beauty is not just in the eye of the beholder

Women are, by nature, hard on themselves -- about work, about parenting, and especially about how they look. I just never realized how hard we are on ourselves.

Indeed, I was somewhat shocked to learn that according to a survey sponsored by Dove, only 2 percent of women consider themselves beautiful. (Click on the link to see highlights from "The Real Truth About Beauty: A Global Report.")

But don't just read the survey highlights. Check out this new video from Dove, titled "Dove Real Beauty Sketches," which has been viewed nearly 9 million times in the last five days.



I just watched it, twice, and still have tears in my eyes.

It also made me angry, because I just knew that someone, or several someones, either directly or indirectly, had made these women feel un-beautiful. Granted, we shouldn't believe everything people tell us. But if your mother tells you you have a big jaw or offers to get you liposuction for your twenty-first birthday (hi Mom!), or a guy tells you you might look cute if you wore more makeup (hi Larry!) or lost 10 or 15 pounds (hi Michael!), and all the women you see on TV or in fashion magazines look nothing like you, you start to feel... un-beautiful. And even if, later in life, you do lose weight, or whatever, it is very hard to counteract years of being told or made to feel less than beautiful.

But I applaud Dove's Campaign for Real Beauty (in 2011 a whopping 4 percent of women surveyed said they considered themselves beautiful, though that was double the number surveyed in 2004) -- and I love their new tagline, "You are more beautiful than you think."

UPDATED 4/20/13: It was really only a matter of time until a parody emerged*. Herewith, "Dove Real Beauty Sketches -- Men."



"Don't forget, men: YOU aren't as beautiful as you think!"

*Though from personal experience, this video is dead on.

It's a bloody conspiracy!

I've heard (and spoken) many adjectives for menstruation, but "wonderful" was not among them. And so it surprised me to hear that anyone, especially a man, would describe that special time of the month that way.

Clearly, the man in question had never been with a woman during that special, special time, or the period just before. But to think there was some grand female/advertiser conspiracy to make men think that getting one's period was a cause for joy and celebration -- and rigorous sporting activities -- is bloody unbelievable.

Clearly Bodyform, a UK manufacturer and marketer of "hygiene" products for women, was padding the truth -- hoping to make impressionable young men wish that they, too, had a uterus. (Dam penis!)

Well, now in an unprecedented move, Bodyform has apologized for misleading the aforementioned man, a bloke by the name of Richard Neill, and impressionable young men everywhere.



I don't know about the rest of you, but I feel so much better now.

[H/T to friend of the blog VB for sending me this article from Jezebel.]

Vagina rules

At the risk of unintentionally attracting the wrong sort to this blog (though it is probably way too late for that), I felt compelled to share this very funny video, made by the folks at Sir Richard's Condoms, titled "Vagina Rules," where women list things (people) that will never go in their vagina.

(Other than the use of the word vagina, this video is totally safe to watch at work or at home -- unless you have a problem with the mention of investment bankers or magicians.)



So, ladies, any of you have any "vagina rules"? Similarly, guys, are there any vaginas you would never go in? Leave a (G, PG, or PG-13-rated) Comment on the blog.

[H/T to blogger Amy Z. of I Could Cry But I Don't Have the Time, who led me to Sir Richard's --  and brilliantly refers to the company as "the Tom’s of condoms."]

Butt... butt... butt...

Overall, I am okay with my body. It's not supermodel (or even model) material, but it's in relatively good shape (thanks to exercising every other day and eating a mostly healthy diet) for a middle-aged broad. And while I may joke about my breasts (or lack thereof), my least favorite feature is my derriere (aka bottom, backside, rear-end, booty, tuckus, or tushy).

No matter how many butt-firming or lifting exercises I do, or how many of them, I have come to the sad realization that I will never have a butt like J. Lo's. Fortunately (God bless him), the spouse seems to think my posterior is perfect as is.

Exchange between me and the spouse from earlier today:
Spouse: (Admiringly) Turn around.
Me: (Reluctantly turning around) I have a saggy ass.
The spouse: You have a beautiful butt. Plenty of women would pay good money for a butt like that!*
Me: They should demand a refund.

And apparently, I am not the only woman who has buttocks envy.

Fortunately, help is at hand (or behind). Forget padded bras, ladies. Today's hottest "beauty" trend? Padded underwear. (And you people laughed at me when I blogged about the Bikini ButtBra two years ago! Who's laughing now?! Actually, I am.)

Yes, ladies, manufacturers have heard your booty call and have responded.

Whether you are looking for a double-o butt lift or padded panties that make you Feel Foxy, help is just a click away!

Btw, gals are not the only ones looking for back. There is plenty of padded underwear for men, too. (If you click on nothing else, click on that link for padded underwear for men. More importantly, why am I not writing copy for Bubbles Bodywear?!)

All of which has me thinking, it is only a matter of time before some sitcom or chick flick features a scene where the woman and man are getting "intimate" -- and then stop when they see the pile of padded underwear and padding scattered on the floor and then look at each other in horror.

*Personally, I think he was just butt-ering me up. ;-)

Is "working mother" redundant -- and why hasn't society caught up?

Sometimes I think feminism was a male plot, thought up by a bunch of guys fed up with working all the time. "Sure, sweetheart, go ahead and get yourself a job -- but you know you still have to cook and clean for me and take care of the kids."

And the bit about not wearing bras? Tell me a guy didn't come up with that. (And before you all jump all over me, I know feminism was/is about way more than a woman's right to work -- and going bra-less.)

But let's get back to work, specifically parenting and work, as in paid employment.

If our society truly supported the idea of women working outside the home, why aren't there good (as in decent paying and desirable) part-time jobs -- for both sexes? Why don't more companies allow employees to work from home, at least part time? Why don't schools operate on the same schedule as businesses do? (As my teenage daughter has said many times, she would have no problem staying at school after classes ended, especially if all her friends did too, and either doing her homework or an activity until 5:30, which she used to do when she was younger.) And why is it so hard to find good, affordable childcare?

I, like many educated, intellectually curious women I know, love to work. I also love my kid and want to spend time with her (as most parents, I hope, do). So, years ago, I made a choice -- to become, basically, a freelance writer/editor, so I could work from home, even though I like working around other people, and being able to leave my work at the office, and the security (steady paycheck, health insurance, paid vacation) of having a "real," i.e., corporate office, job. And I feel very fortunate that I could do this. (Btw, contrary to popular belief about work-at-home moms, I do not sit around in my PJs all day, watching TV and eating bon-bons.)

However, as my daughter has gotten older, I have yearned to work outside the house, albeit not full time -- or the 50 to 60 or 70 hours a week that many employers now consider full time. But good luck finding a decent paying part-time job or a job with flexible hours or one that would allow me to work from home part time -- especially within 30 minutes of our home.

And I know I am not the only mother -- or father -- who feels this way.

Speaking of "working mothers," anyone else feel that phrase is redundant (besides Ann Romney)? You ever hear the phrase "working father"? (That would be a rhetorical question.)

And another thing, re the whole stay-at-home mom vs. working mom war? Enough already. Let's declare a truce -- and give each group the support they need (though fat chance employers are going to be creating a slew of good part-time jobs any time soon, and I doubt women who must work full time are going to feel less resentful of women who don't have to work any time soon).

Finally, a word about "parenting" books and articles (which are mainly books about mothering -- or making women feel guilty or stressful or bad about the choices they have or have not made). Do NOT read them. They will just stress you (and your spouse and friends) out.

Who knows your child best? You do. And no two children, or parents, are exactly alike -- so how can a parenting book or article be right for every parent and child? They can't. It's like horoscopes -- amusing to read (at times), but don't take them seriously or base your life on them.

You want to know about breast feeding? Here's what you need to know: breast milk is great for babies, as it helps with brain development and immunity -- and it's free. So, if you can and are comfortable with breast feeding your kids, do it. But if you are not, formula is fine. Don't drive yourself and your kid crazy. The end.

And speaking of formula, there isn't a magic one, or a book that can guarantee you if you follow or read it you will produce a smart, happy, healthy kid. Though there are things you can do as a parent that will increase the odds, such as feeding your child healthy, nutritious food, and minimizing sugar and processed and junk food; making sure she gets a good night's sleep as much as possible; reading to him regularly and minimizing TV and computer and video game time; and telling your child, every day, you love her.

Okay, I am done ranting now. Back to "real" work.

A primer on sluts, bitches, and whores

There has been a lot of talk about "sluts" and "prostitutes" (or "whores") of late. And some of you (cough*Rush Limbaugh*) may be confused as to what these terms actually mean.

So allow me to explain the difference between these terms (and women) as succinctly as possible.

A slut is someone who is willing to have sex with just about anyone.

A whore (or prostitute) is someone who is willing to have sex with just about anyone who can pay.

A bitch is someone who is willing to have sex with just about anyone, except Rush Limbaugh.

A witch is someone who marries the guy willing to pay her for sex (cough*Rush Limbaugh*) and then stops having sex with him after he puts a ring on it.

An asshole is a guy who repeatedly calls a woman a slut or a prostitute for advocating that all women should have access to contraception coverage -- and only, half-heartedly, apologizes when several of the sponsors of his radio show pull their ads.

I think that clears it up.

On a (somewhat) related note, while driving south on the West Side Highway in New York City the other day, I spied these two billboards, practically one after the other. While I get the latter message, would any of you care to enlighten me re the meaning of "Escort quality, hooker pricing"? And what's the deal with the sheep in the sombrero? (It's vodka, not tequila.)

Time to stock up on muumuus?

If women of a certain age (i.e., moi) didn't have enough to worry about come late spring, now MORE Magazine, a magazine that supposedly "celebrates women over 40" -- HA! -- has to go and do a survey of how old is too old to wear a bikini -- or mini skirt or leggings or sexy tops. (What, no mention of shorts, MORE Magazine? Now that's what I call shoddy editing.)

To save you some time (though I encourage you to click on the link to see the full results of the survey), if you are 45 or over, you may as well kill yourself start shopping for muumuus now -- and stock up. Also, those of you 50 or over, if you haven't already done so, chop off all that hair NOW. (Seriously, could this survey be more depressing?)

Interestingly, on the TODAY Show site, where I found the MORE survey, the majority of people (of which I am one) when asked "Should age be a factor in what women wear?" replied "No. Rock it if you got it," which jibes with the comments I received on my related post on this topic, titled "Can women of a certain age wear bikinis?" (All I can say is, God bless you kind readers -- and Helen Mirren.)

As for me, as long as my abs stay as flat as my chest and I can cover my butt, I'm sticking with bikinis.

Rock it if you got it!

Apparently nannies only exist in fairy tales and bad chick lit

So when did the word "nanny" or admitting to employing a nanny become dirty, one of those things that must not be said or discussed in public or polite company?

Back when I was growing up, almost every middle-class family employed a nanny or mother's helper or housekeeper or sitter (or had extended family) who would help look after the kids, even if the mother didn't work full time. It was no big deal.

But today no successful woman it seems will cop to having help.

And if I hear one more high profile woman (yes Michelle Obama, Mika Brzezinski, Norah O'Donnell, and Katty Kay, I am talking to you) declaim on television and/or in glossy magazines and books how today women can now do it all (or to cite Morning Joe co-anchor Mika Brzezinski's best-selling new book, do "All Things At Once"), without mentioning that it takes a village -- or at least a nanny or a mom who doesn't work or some kind of outside help -- I am going to scream.

More importantly, these supposed role models for "having [or doing] it all" are doing a tremendous disservice to young women (older women too) by not admitting -- or stating -- on TV and in women's magazines "Thank God for my [nanny, housekeeper, mother's helper, daycare center, stay-at-home spouse, mother, sister -- insert caregiver or multiple aides here]. Without her [him or them] there is no way I would be the success that I am today."

Or at the bare minimum acknowledging that they have help (and often lots of it) -- and that it's practically impossible to be successful without it.

Btw, there is absolutely nothing wrong with women getting some help on the home front, or putting their kids in daycare or aftercare, so they can work. What's wrong is women creating the fiction that you can somehow do it all if you just set your mind to it. That's as big a fairy tale as Mary Poppins.