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The years have not been kind….

If there was one thing I vowed never to do…..

and I have done it…..I forgot that I wasn’t going to age gracefully…


In two weeks I will  turn …GULP……an undesirable age.

I am not over the hill – but I am fast approaching the hill….it’s just around the bend.

I have noticed things have really taken a turn for the worse around here.  And by “around here” I mean my cigarette wrinkles around my lips, my angry “11” in between my eyebrows and my boob wrinkles in between my sagging boobs.

So – in the midst of raising the children and being in survival mode – I forgot about my vow…..which was to  NOT grow old gracefully.

I mentioned how I get very tan in the summer, and how people speak Spanish to me from June to September.  Well all of the tanning I have done in my life coupled with smoking – apparently has destroyed the collagen and elasticity of my skin!! (*Nonetheless – next weekend I will begin my annual 3 month-long obsession with the beach – no wrinkle will deter me from the sun!!)

This always seems like a good idea – but apparently it can cause the facial skin to turn into Louis Vuitton bags….

So last summer – I had an angry “11” in between my eyebrows that was WHITE!!!!  When a wrinkle is so deep it can’t get tan…..It’s time.  It has been time for quite a while.

The last time I met up with old friends I noticed they all had a youthful glow and their skin looked smooth and radiant.

“I have to get Botox, ” I said to my friend Christina.  “I look old and weathered next to you.”

She stared back at me in silence with no facial expression.  (I’m not sure if it was because she didn’t know what to say without hurting my feelings or if she can no longer move her face muscles.)

“Yes, Lady, you should get Botox, it’s time.” she said without moving one muscle in her entire face.

I have been thinking about it a lot.   When I look in the mirror I see an old woman.  It’s not what I want to look at first thing in the morning.

Recently my friend, Martha, has been on an insane health kick.  She makes all of her own foods and beverages from organic ingredients and is obsessed with kale and salmon.  She claims her hair is shiny and silky and she has the mind and body of a 21 year old.

She says horrible things like “Well I will let the kids eat goldfish if they have to – but honestly I can make my own organic fish-shaped goat-cheese kale salmon nips – and they are so much better!!”

So – when she was droning on and on about how she eats kale smoothies for  breakfast, I interrupted her and said, “How much kale should I eat to balance out Botox?”

That quickly brought the conversation to a close, and I realized how badly I really want to have a smooth face.  I am willing to forgo other healthy ways of living…..just give me the good stuff.

Just in the nick of time a client who has beautiful skin and doesn’t seem to be aging gracefully invited me to a party this week hosted by her plastic surgeon.

“It’s an open house and she gives out prizes and has cocktails and hors d’oeuvres for her best clients.  We can invite people so you should come, this way you will feel comfortable when you go get “something done,” and it’s so fun!”

I called my friend, Annie, who also has an “angry 11”  and told her to immediately arrange babysitting to go to this party.

When we arrived we were so excited – I felt like Tamera Barney going to a Botox party.  We mingled and pretended we belonged, and we met the female plastic surgeon that was hosting the party – (who by the way had an entire face made out of plastic.)

Undeterred, we met up with my client, and she was thrilled to see us and show us around.  This woman with the perfect skin apparently spends much of her time getting “work done” and she was none too happy to tell us about her mansion and her fancy life and shopping addiction. 

Then we had our palms read – which was an added feature to the party! 

Annie didn’t particularly like what her palm had said but I didn’t pry too much and encouraged her to get another glass of champagne.

“If anyone asks – just tell them we get all of our work done in New York, ” I said to Annie has we mingled around the spa.  “We want to seem like we belong.”

When we saw my client again – she grilled Annie, about what her fortune was.  Annie was dismissive and tried to brush her off.

“Well – what did he say?” she insisted.

Finally, fed up with the inquisition, she answered,

“He said I would be poor and he said I was a doormat.”

I gulped my champagne.  “Well – you do have doormat tendencies,” I said casually – “So what?”

She agreed, “Yes – yes – I have been working on that…” she agreed.

The client grabbed the finger of her hefty wedding ring and held it up – “Well by the look of this thing I don’t think you have to worry!!” she laughed.

We threw our heads back and all had a hearty “rich person laugh” – and we continued to mingle around.  We signed up for every raffle prize we could find and we decided to make our way – with visions of smooth foreheads in our immediate future.

When we were heading out my client (aka – my new best friend) was walking out with us.  Annie had recently been inspired by my blog post about how I stole Mr. Gaga’s car.

As we walked out – Annie nudged me, and said out of the corner of her mouth, “The car.”

Oh right.  Due to my inspiring blog – she recently traded cars with her husband.  She gave him her Escalade and took his beat-up 1990 Toyota Camry.  Here we were pretending we were the “Real Housewives,” and now we had to make a less than stellar exit in a jalopy.

We laughed so hard – we probably made more wrinkles.  

I am going to make my appointment this week.  I refuse to age out of my 30’s – and if I have to…I’m not going to let my forehead know about it.

Plus if I can’t make an angry face – do you think it will inadvertently make me happier?? It’s worth a try…



My placenta tastes better than your placenta……

We just had a conference week so EVERY DAY was early dismissal!! You know how the teachers in my town don’t like to stay at school anytime after 3:30…right?  

So by cutting the school day short they are able to eat 55 sandwiches and meet with parents without having a long day.

Anyways, so what we did to fill our days was host playdates!!  I was due for a bunch so we had 6 playdates this week and I have to say that now that the kids are getting older – it really isn’t too bad.

However – it made me think back to the time when I was locked up in the house with babies and had gotten roped into a playgroup.  Those playdates were the absolute worst hours of my life!!!

Let’s face it – the playdate for babies and toddlers is really an excuse for bored moms to get together and talk about how horrible their lives are. 

Of course, my luck is to get stuck with a bunch of women who want to talk about how much they love their children.

Playdates are also an opportunity for moms to participate in one of their favorite past-times which is to compete with other mothers. 

Why do we do it? 

Why do we even compete about food??

Why do we care?

But we do.

It starts right from the minute we get pregnant.

“You eat cold cuts? – Oh I would never, I haven’t even had a drop of coffee, not even decaf because Dr. Oz says there’s caffeine in decaf….”

Then we start right away competing with the whole breastfeeding war.

“I breastfed Ava right up until she was ready for first grade…I didn’t mind at all….”

Then we jump into food. 

Oh I would never feed my baby – baby food from a jar!!! I make all of my own baby food from scratch.  I bought a $300 baby food maker and it purees an organic banana like you wouldn’t believe.”

Of course some people even take it a step further.

January Jones recently announced that she has been consuming her own placenta since giving birth to her child.  This is the new cool thing to do apparently.  Placentas can be ground up and eaten in pill form for the squeamish…..

Alicia Silverstone has been all over the headlines because she believes that she is a bird.  Because of this – she spits food into her child’s mouth after she chews it for him.

Let me just say Alicia – there is something called a food processor.  I know you are out to win “Mom of the Century” but let’s not reinvent the wheel here.

There are many ways to cut up food.  If you didn’t want to waste energy by using a blender – (because I know how you hippies are) you could even use a good old fork and knife to cut things up.

I’m not quite sure what you are accomplishing by making out with your baby in this manner,  instead of just feeding him like a rational adult. 

When I got invited into my mommy cult playgroup – I was new to the world of playdates and wasn’t really aware of all of the rules and etiquette.

When it was my first time hosting, I racked my brain to think of the perfect snack that would make the kids like me the best.

It was my friend Martha that said "Good mothers don't feed their kids red and orange dyes......"

I didn’t know! 

I also was thinking that maybe these women (whom I had never met before) could be my new friends.   I had been in the house going crazy – my only communication being with long-distance friends on the phone.

I was kind of picturing this in my kitchen once a week:

I mean how bad could it be? We can talk some shit about other moms and neighbors, dish some celebrity gossip and ignore the kids..... This could be fun!!

So – when I was finished filling baskets with Doritos I got together some “Mommy treats”……

This did not go over well - apparently some people think that 10:30 am is too early for a Skinnygirl Cosmo......what a bunch of losers.

I slowly realized what was proper and acceptable and what wasn’t. 

Kids were given water or breast milk served directly from a huge engorged boob that was whipped out at any given moment with reckless abandon, and a choice of cut up grapes or goldfish crackers. 

Moms were served this:

Instead of running for my life after my first encounter with these idiots – I stuck it out for like 6 months.  I kept trying to talk to them truthfully about how difficult life was or how sometimes I would eat more than just my placenta pills at breakfast even though I was fat. 

They never responded appropriately, the way any of my real friends would.

One time they were all talking about how devastating it would be when the kids (who were all 2 at the time) started preschool. After everyone kept going on and on about how many tears they would shed when they left Brayden, Cayden, Layden and Jaden at the preschool for 2 hours, I interjected.

“Um – really? I intend to peel out of the parking lot at warp speeds and chain smoke Parliament Lights all the way home…….” I said matter-of-factly as I popped a chunk of my placenta into my mouth.

When I looked up this is what I saw…….

Nobody said a word.....Nobody laughed......a cricket chirped....and then I just got my coat and left.

What is happening to this world?

Why can’t we laugh at ourselves?

Why can’t we just feed our kids food and beverages and act normal???



Do not feel inferior to crazy lunatics that think their placenta is better than a Dorito. 

Do your best, feed your child in a calm rational manner.

Oh and one more thing……..Do not join a playgroup.




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