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How flattering to randomly out of nowhere to be named one of UK Channel 4’s 4 Beauty Best Health Blogs! Below is the little blurby they wrote about Formerly Hot, but please click here to see the other sites that were mentioned–some really good ones. Oy. There goes another afternoon I coulda shoulda woulda been working. But hey!

For age defiers

Formerly Hot (opens in a new window)
American writer and pundit Stephanie Dolgoff’s blog is a hilarious commentary on how society sees you as old – just because you’re not 21. It’s also a poignant reflection on ageing, and she sensitively observes everything from her body, her looks, the way she acts and the way people act towards her. Fascinating and insightful.

I’m strangely not embarrassed to admit that my FORMERLY moment involves a velour jogging suit, fleece-lined crocs, a bird store…and Cheerios.

I was just shy of 41 when I needed to wrap up some Christmas shopping in 2009.  My mother-in-law wanted a specific birdhouse at a store somewhere out in the boonies and time was running out.  I was sick and tired–both of shopping AND legitimately ill–and didn’t have the energy to doll up for a dreary December drive to the country.  Hence, the velour/croc ensemble.

The guys at the bird store were very helpful, and even a bit flirty despite my haggard look, so I actually had a brief “I’ve still got it” moment as I strutted back out to the car with a pep in my croc…even spinning around with a smile as they called after me with a “Miss” (instead of the dreaded “Ma’am”).  Well, my ego boost was short-lived.  Turns out, they only wanted my attention to inform me that “…uh…you have a Cheerio stuck to your bottom.”
Let the Formerly Phase begin.

There comes a time in your life when u suddenly realize that you are not cute anymore. You are still pretty and more secure, hopefully more intelligent and secure, but you just don’t turn heads the way you used to. But its not because you became ugly, I believe there are beautiful and ugly in young and old.

Its because most men love young girls and men control the medias. The media brainwashes society and we fall right into the trap. We let men make us feel bad about aging and not being perfect. We neglect our career or happiness in favour of trying to look perfect and trying to be young forever! But men can be old and ugly and still be admired. What kind of fucked up world is this?

Finally!  I don’t get hit on all the time.  It’s kind of nice to be able to go to the store and be checked out (no pun intended) without the clerk asking me if I’ve got a boyfriend.  Don’t get me wrong, I do miss being hit on by the hot guys.  But I don’t miss the hopeful looks and bad come-ons from the guys I wasn’t attracted to.  And they would get so angry when I turned them down (nicely!).

The AmeriCorps (2o-something) in my office were discussing doppelgangers. I remarked that I was never really told I look like anyone-oh, except for the sister on the Wonder Years (Olivia d’Abo character)…to which the reply (nonsnarky, just curious) was…”don’t you mean the mom?” What???

When I was about to turn 41, I was leaving the city I was living in and was able to buy a dress in the ‘red light’ district (which doesn’t have anything bigger than size 6) for my farewell party. Then I moved to the suburbs, got remarried. And last year my 13 year old step daughter wore the dress to a birthday party. I told my friends the story and one of the husbands replied, “that was a farewell dress. Farewell to size 4.”

My 9 year old daughter, who knows everything, informed me that I was too old to even think about wearing a bikini or even a two piece. She informed me that tankinis were OK because they covered my flabby parts and made it easy for me since I have to go to the bathroom so much (bladder sling surgery in 3 months.) She did say I still had “strong looking legs” so I don’t have to wear a wet suit in Houston, Texas heat. I’m just so grateful.

Just watched Steph on Today…great job!  And yes we should “…get off our fannies!”  Here’s what I hope will be my formerly secret…I am on the other side of Hot, but I can become more of me and more intriguing and have more fun with my family.  I am starting to do things that are more exciting, more fun, and double as exercise.  Recently I’ve tried and really LOVED rock climbing (safe kind at county park on 50′ wall with harness) and kayaking.  I’m becoming more fun, and I find me more interesting too–and it gets me off my fanny and out with my daughter (9) and hubby!

Yip, that was me: Married to my soul mate, educated, skyrocketing career, copious friends, 2.25 children and a picket fence. My friends often called me “that girl,” as in “she’s that girl you love to hate or hate to love. The girl who has it all.”

I really did have it all. Until my marriage ended with a brick–a literal brick. You can’t make this sh*t up, right? (The crazy backstory is on my blog, www.mikaleebyerman.wordpress.com, if you’re curious.)

But in my 2.0 version, I’m redefining my “that-girl” image after my blindsiding divorce. I still have the world’s crazy-coolest children and a successful writing career. But now, I embrace the oddities the universe is throwing my way–and I’m writing a book about ‘em. From overdramatic dead squirrels to a New Year’s Eve spent fixing broken penises (peni?) to my ex’s new wife starting a blog to mock my blog: It’s been a roller coaster ride, but I’m in the front row, arms up and only screaming occasionally.

Thank you for allowing us to embrace our “formerly” and our “finally.” Here’s to our versions 2.0, 3.0, 4.0, etc. Can’t wait to read your book!

I have a frenemy. This is a woman with a boob job that she swings in every man she meets.  She likes to share scantily clad pictures of herself on Facebook.  She lives for opportunities to outshine other women; it’s like a sickness with her.  So imagine the moment of pure shining joy I felt when I saw tiny beads of sweat on her store-bought bosom.  But wait, it’s not hot in here–ohhhhh, YES, YES, YES!  The she-devil will soon face the joy of watching her tattoo slip down her side like a glob of jelly; glimmering with the sweat of her ever more frequent hot flashes.  I may be formerly hot, but not that hot ; )