Fifty and Other F-Words Read online

  The vague promise of future work, which I now avoid like the plague, has also been offered. One time, the producers of a TV show asked me to fly in on my own dime, and promised to have me back on the show when my first book was published, which they never did. A few years later they needed a last-minute on-camera fill-in on a side project. I agreed. I created over $500 worth of samples that their client refused to return, and for which I was never paid. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me.

  There was the big website that asked me to create a series of craft videos for “huge exposure.” After spending $800 to make studio renovations, many hours making samples, and shooting the segments with a local camera guy . . . nothing. The producers disappeared. I have no idea what happened to the videos. Then a couple of years later they emailed me AGAIN with the same request. Seriously?

  I have no one but myself to blame for all of the times I accepted less, because I’d convinced myself that the magic beans were different. They weren’t. They aren’t. They never will be different. I am NEVER working for magic beans or publicity again. I do not feel even remotely guilty for valuing myself enough to draw the line in the sand. I am worthy. I am exceptional. My talents have monetary value. I need to be paid in money. I am funny like that.

  This is the kind of thing that regularly happens to creatives. There is a perception that if you make a living from your creative talents, you are doing it for fun—that you’re not serious. There is a shocking lack of value placed on creativity. The sad truth is, there is an endless parade of creative people who ARE willing to jump through hoops for magic beans. They will argue endlessly that they have to start somewhere and it isn’t their full-time job and they’re doing it for fun and blah, blah, blah. Yes, we all have to start somewhere, how about we start by getting paid? If you aren’t good enough to warrant a paycheck, you aren’t ready to start a career as a creative. But the thing is, if you aren’t good enough to warrant a paycheck, why are these big companies asking to work with you? Chew on that for a moment and see how it tastes. It’s time we all stopped undervaluing our work because, until we do, the manufacturers, publishers, retailers, TV production companies, and magazines are going to keep expecting people to work for publicity or glitter.

  Does the person writing the email work for publicity? Hell no.

  We have to take a good hard look in the mirror and tell ourselves we are worthy. Because we are.

  Jobs for Women!

  If you’ve been pounding the pavement looking for work, you know it’s tough out there for a gal over 50. Don’t worry, I’ve got you. Here are seven fabulous job ideas for women over 50:

  1. Over 50? Becoming invisible? Now that your private parts are no longer in service, it’s the perfect time to become a Private Investigator! You don’t need a dick to be a private dick. How cool is that?

  2. Bill yourself as an older nanny and market yourself as the perfect solution for women who don’t want to worry about their husbands leaving them for a hot 20-something au pair. Call yourself Mrs. Doubtfree!

  3. Are you a bossy bitch who likes to tell other people what to do? Do people love your “refreshingly real” advice and “take no prisoners” attitude? Do you enjoy kicking whiny, listless, unmotivated people in the ass with a steel-toed boot? Did you know that people will pay you money to do that? Yup, it’s called Life Coaching, or being a Dominatrix. Six of one . . . Lace up your corset, grab that whip, and get on it, sister.

  4. Want to lose all of your friends and isolate yourself from family members? Join an MLM (Multi-Level Marketing) company also known as a pyramid scheme. Post about the “amazing” products you’re selling multiple times an hour on all of your social media accounts. Add everyone you know and even people you barely know to your virtual Facebook group without their permission. Soon you’ll have drawers full of crap no one wants and plenty of time to spend with your cats. Win-win!

  5. If you’re crafty and you know it, raise your hand! Love to DIY? Live to craft? You can work in the craft industry as a designer and get paid in glitter and glue! That’s right, companies are lining up to pay bloggers, designers, and video producers in currency they call exposure and free product! Sure, your landlord won’t let you pay the rent in yarn, but think of all the fun you’ll have! Similar opportunities await graphic designers, writers, photographers, caterers, and other creatives. What fun!

  6. Speaking of fun, kids are fun, especially when they’re not yours. Be a Rent-a-Grandma! Spend your days pumping children full of sugar; buying them toys that flash, squawk, and beep; and giving them heartfelt but outmoded advice that starts with the phrase “In my day,” and sharing cautionary tales about ending up like their parents.

  7. If all else fails, you can try your hand at selling crap on the internet. Everyone else is doing it. This is another effective way to use your social media prowess, and it’s an excuse to hit thrift shops, yard sales, and flea markets. Think of it as a treasure hunt and fancy yourself as a modern archeologist. Indiana Jones has nothing on you, girl. As you sift through the detritus of our toss-away society, you just might find a golden nugget. Or you just might find detritus. You’ll never know until you try.

  Own Your Failure

  If you’re going to own your success, you must also own your failure. It’s all part of the same story, after all. Everyone fails sometimes. The people who succeed the most have probably failed the most as well.

  That’s because they’re the people who never give up, never back down, and never stop trying. They fail and fail and fail again until the rest of the world is probably thinking they’re crazy or brilliant or perhaps a little bit of both. They aren’t worried about the rest of the world. They’re just picking themselves up, dusting themselves off, and starting again. They’re not afraid to fail spectacularly because they know that’s the only way they’ll ever succeed spectacularly.

  No matter how far you fall, keep climbing. If insanity is doing the same thing and expecting different results, persistence is pushing toward the same desired results differently. The law of averages is such that, eventually, if you try enough different approaches, you’ll find the one that works. If no one is handing you the road map to success (because there is no road map), it’s up to you to forge your way through the wilderness.

  Even when it feels as if you’re a failure, remember that you are not a failure, you simply haven’t succeeded yet.

  Keep marching bravely forward.

  You must keep your sense of humor, because life is an absurdist tragicomedy and you are the star. Yes, you, sassy britches! What matters most isn’t how many awards you win, or how many likes you get, or how many widgets you sell. What matters most is how much you love. I used to say it was how much you love and how much you are loved in return, but I don’t think the return on the investment is the point anymore. We just love, because that is the point.

  I am getting up every single day and believing that I can. What else can I do? I may own my failure, but I am also fully intending to own my success.

  Things I Said Yes to

  When you work for yourself, you will find that other people do not value your time as much as you do. They’ll assume that most of what you’re doing is lounging around in silk pajamas, watching daytime TV, and sipping vodka. Sure, that may take up a large part of your day, but you need to set boundaries for the rest of the time when you’re really working. If you don’t, you will find yourself buried in things other people ask you to do. They’ll fill up your dance card for you unless you take a stand. It’s not easy, because women are programmed to say yes. We’re people pleasers and wrinkle smoothers. Resist this programming or find yourself drowning in other people’s details.

  It’s okay to say no.

  I used to say yes—a lot. I said yes so much that my workload grew to epic proportions. I felt stressed out. I felt pulled in too many directions. I felt as if I was failing everyone, especially my daughter, because there simply weren’t enough hours in every day to get
it all done and still, you know, sleep. I ran around in circles a lot. I did a lot of stuff for free or for publicity or for favors. Or all three. My life was a “favors for free publicity” free-for-all!

  When you make it up every day, sometimes you forget that you are the one making it up. If you aren’t going to take control of your time, your days, your focus, there will be an endless stream of folks willing to take control for you. It’s a female thing to want to help, please, appease, illuminate, enlighten, and entertain. Or maybe it’s just a thing some folks do because they want to “do the right thing.” Whatever that is, I did a lot of it. Sure, I will review your book! Sure, I will share your link! Sure, I will review your product! Sure, I will respond to that phone call, email, text, FB message, tweet!

  I said yes and yes and yes until my work and my life began to spin out of control. I was running out of time for lounging around in silk pajamas and drinking vodka. I was freaking out about things I “had to do” that were basically favors. I wasn’t getting the important stuff done because too much of my time was being spent on a vast array of things that did not actually need to be done. I had to reevaluate to find balance.

  I learned a lot from this.

  If you want to successfully work for yourself, you have to focus relentlessly on your goals.

  You can pay it forward, sideways, and backward as long as you don’t let the paying of it take up so much of your time that you have no more time to make the magic happen. The thing is, whether you work for yourself or for someone else, you have to spend most of your work time working. Then a small portion of your time can be devoted to what I call “things I said yes to,” which is grammatically incorrect but vernacularly acceptable. “Vernacularly” is not a word. I digress. What was I discussing? Oh yes, things I said yes to. You can only say yes to so much and then you have to stop saying yes, unless it is a true emergency or a truly important cause.

  I made a folder, a virtual folder. I called it my “things I said yes to” folder. The more we say yes, the more beholden we are to these little agreements that seem innocuous enough until they begin multiplying exponentially while gathering in a folder in our email. When mine was virtually full, I started saying no.

  I also reminded myself, regardless of increasingly aggressive follow-up emails, that I did not owe perfect strangers or even imperfect acquaintances replies to every random request. The DELETE button became my friend. I stopped showing my panties to everyone who asked. I started making better use of my time. I got productive! Did I make some people sad? Probably, and for that I am sorry. I don’t wish to make people sad. I don’t wish to hurt people’s feelings. I just have to focus my energy on making the magic every day, and sometimes I share what I’ve learned here or on my social media platforms, which is my small way of giving back.

  It’s okay to say no. It’s all about balance. You can’t be everything to everyone or even most things to most everyone. You can only do what you can do, be kind and loving without giving it all away, and hope that, in the final analysis, you did your best and that was enough. It is not your job to make other people happy. It is other people’s job to make themselves happy. It is your job to make yourself happy. And we all know that when Mama is happy, everyone is happy.

  That’s something we can all say yes to.

  Aging in a Hi-Def Reality

  When I began appearing as a guest expert on a home shopping network, they switched to hi-def cameras and the panic bells went off. Every wrinkle, every pore, even the tiniest little flaws were exponentially exaggerated. None of the old makeup tricks worked anymore. Faux tans looked horrid. Anyone over the age of 25 looked old. As a video editor once said to me while we reviewed my footage on a large screen, “Hi-def is a cruel, cruel mistress.” Wince. Because working on camera was a job I enjoyed and wished to keep, I opted for Botox and fillers. They work well when used judiciously. Add a little too much and you start to look frozen, pulled, and poufed, as if your face were straining to escape its skin. Enter airbrush makeup and softer lighting, and we all exhaled. We were, as best as we could, navigating the complexities of aging in a hi-def reality, although it was a serious shock to see yourself in the monitor in close-up and wonder, “Wow, is that really what I look like?”

  The answer is, yes . . . and no. It’s really what you look like if you’re being examined under a microscope, but the truth is, in real life, those tiny flaws are mostly imperceptible. We see them, but, for the most part, others don’t. And the flaws, wrinkles, and freckles make us who we are; they are the sum total of our experiences. There is something to be said for embracing them, though, honestly, that won’t get you far on TV.

  Photo retouching techniques in the digital age have progressed to the point where most of what we see in print and on the web is so heavily retouched it’s no longer a representation of reality. We live in an age of selfies and photobombs, Facebook, and Instagram, Botox and fillers, thigh gaps and spackle. We are looking at ourselves more intently, holding a hi-def camera at arm’s length and shooting endless photos of ourselves. We are seeing our faces too much, too closely, and with far too much detail. In contrast, we are bombarded with images of women who have been lasered, filled, lifted, and airbrushed into almost cartoon representations of their former selves. Add to that the refusal of most of the celebrities to admit the amount of work they’ve had done and it’s easy to see why beauty and skin care comprise a multibillion-dollar industry. So many of us are seeking that elusive fountain of youth and miracle in a bottle or syringe. We ask ourselves, “If she looks that good, why do I look so bad?” It’s hard for the average Jane to feel good about her aging face when celebrity women over 50 and even in their 60s and 70s seem frozen in time.

  Post-Grammys, I once stumbled onto a thread on social media started by a former silver screen siren of a certain age. She’d posted a link to an article with a very unflattering photo of Madonna, who had been recently Botoxed and freshly filled. The comments were illuminating and disturbing. People were attacking her, on the one hand, for having too much work done, and on the other for looking too old. I liked the suit and thought she looked great. She was 55, after all, not 30. Plus, in a sea of boring, frothy, safe choices, she stood out as a risk taker. Most of the attacks were coming from men, which I found fascinating. No one was harping on how old Steven Tyler, Dave Grohl, or Sir Paul McCartney look. Unfair, but not shocking.

  It seems to me that Madonna should do exactly as she pleases, and I think that’s true of all women. I don’t quite know how one ages gracefully in a hi-def world, especially if one is a celebrity. It’s all complicated by technology. I don’t have the answers. I fully understand wanting to hold on to beauty a little longer. I am personally fighting these demons, trying to find balance, and opening myself up to accepting some of the inevitable changes that aging brings while feeling okay about wanting to change the things I can’t accept. We all get old, if we’re lucky. I am also fully aware of how much work and how much photo editing is done in the media, and how unrealistic it all is. I can look at the on-screen face of a celebrity who insists she’s had no work done at all and tell you precisely what she’s had done. It’s her job, after all, to look good on camera, and a little nip here and tuck there fall within her job requirements, at least in our current climate.

  I do wonder, though, why the pressure is so much more intense on women than on men. Why do we pick apart female celebrities who are damned if they do and damned if they don’t, and let the men slide? Why can’t we allow all of us to choose what makes us happy? I get what the pressures of the hi-def age are. I know that putting yourself in the spotlight means subjecting yourself to public scrutiny. I just don’t get why we can’t give each other and ourselves a little breathing room.

  Breathing Room

  We get very comfortable carrying baggage that no longer serves us, and which is packed with half-truths and lies. That baggage, stuffed with the ugly and the unwanted, gets dragged around year after year. Eventually, we com
e to feel as if it is a part of us. We forget that we picked it up on the journey, that we pack our bags, and that we can unpack them, dump the contents, and leave them behind. I am unpacking like a madwoman and dumping out a lifetime of crap.

  Talk about a de-stash!

  I have been thinking deeply about aging, women, beauty, fashion, self-image, the media, and the messages we send to young women. I’ve had some complicated conversations with other women of a certain age over the past few years. Many of them believe that women who dye their hair, wear makeup, or opt for plastic surgery are not authentic and therefore are making it harder for “the rest of us” to age gracefully. I find these thoughts troubling. Cynicism, insecurity, and rage bubble quietly underneath these thoughts. On the one hand, I agree that the media sets impossible beauty standards. I also agree that when women lie about having work done, it makes it harder for the rest of us. With the advent of new technology, we can literally transform someone through pixels, poisons, and fillers to a level of physical perfection that is impossible to achieve. How can real women compete with surgically and digitally enhanced illusions?

  But there is the rub, Why must we compete at all?

  Why do we get angry when other women choose not to embrace their wrinkles, gray hair, sagging chin, or physical “imperfections”? Does it really matter? Why are we so certain that our way of moving through the world is the only way that has merit? Wrinkles may be beautiful to you, but not so much to someone else. So what? Isn’t the message that women must age gracefully and fade into the background just as rigid and unyielding as the one that tells women they need to stay young, powdered, and pretty?