Sorry for the long post drought. I have been busy–getting ready to move, work deadlines, all of that. I have a few posts queued up in my head, but for now, check this out. Sarah Hampson of the Globe and Mail up in Toronto says it well and no, I don’t just like her because she interviewed me for her article (although I’m glad she did.)

More soon and have a great day.

Photo by Vancouver Laser CC

Stop the presses: Nicole Kidman admits to using Botox.

I know you’ll find that hard to believe, because, like I was, you were positive that her forehead was naturally paralyzed and weirdly waxy like those $4 apples they sell on the Upper East Side.

I mean, there were so many other reasons she could have looked like that, such as, well…hmmm.

OK, perhaps she was born with a particularly rare form of a neuromuscular disorder that only affected the forehead area. Right? Now I’ll bet you feel bad for thinking she was simply worried about looking older, like the rest of us vain, shallow, petty people. Or maybe she had the foresight not to furrow her brow over the previous four decades of her life, like, ever. Didja ever think of that? I mean, I’m sure if you or I had been smart enough to have never worried or laughed or reacted in a surprised manner, ever, we’d look just like her. I’m 43. So is she. Until today I figured my lined brow was my out freakin’ fault for being shocked so often at how celebrities lie.

But it turns out, no. Per People.com:

“I’ve tried a lot of things, but aside from sports and good nutrition, most things don’t make a difference,” Kidman, 43, tells the German magazine TV Movie. “I have also tried Botox.”

“I didn’t like how my face looked afterwards,” she says. “Now I don’t use it anymore – I can move my forehead again!”

First of all, I haven’t noticed any radical forehead movement happening of late.  Second, what’s with the “I’ve tried it” business? If you’re going to admit it, you may as well say, ‘Yeah, I used it a lot a lot a lot. Still am, and you know what? I’m a movie star. Get off my case.” It’s like that Bill Clinton “didn’t inhale” silliness. Riiiight.

This smacks of a dumbass PR decision–she was starting to look silly for denying it (as opposed to looking silly because her forehead gleamed like a beacon in the distance, warning ships of rocky shores) so someone told her to just admit to trying it. “That way, when they say you’re addicted to Botox, your story will be out there already: You’re not addicted. You tried it, didn’t like it, and why would you admit to trying it if it were a problem for you?”

Sigh. Why indeed.

Photo by Edwin Martinez1 CC

If you believe, as evolutionary biologists do, that most everything we do, feel or have dangling from our bodies must have served some evolutionary purpose, you may have wondered what the deal is with tickling.

Me, I have never wondered such a thing. I don’t have time to pee most days (I do understand the evolutionary purpose of a large-capacity bladder) let alone ponder the purpose tickling might have served in our development into the big-brained bipeds we are today. I have, however, wondered, as Milton Berle once quipped, why, if evolution really worked, do moms only have two hands? Good question, right?

Apparently some people, like my friend PT, who sent me this link, and this blogger at Popular Science, do have time to think about tickling. So you don’t need to take the time to read it (go pee instead), it has to do with social bonding.

The last line did catch my eye, though: (more…)

Warning: I’m in moody bitch mode, so filter my rant through a screen of tolerance and good will, if you don’t mind, and perky Steph will be back as soon as possible.

The ever-chic Sarah Jessica Parker is in Elle this month discussing, among other things, getting older.

On aging naturally: “I don’t know what I can do about the aging. Yes, I am aging. Oh my God, I’m aging all the time. It’s like those flowers that wilt in front of you in time-lapse films. But what can I possibly do? Look like a lunatic?”

Now, I’m a journalist, so I know you have to ask a question in a certain way to get any kind of a reasonable quote, especially from a celebrity (if you ask, “Is the sky blue?” you’ll get, “Yes.” But if you ask, “I understand many of your critics see the sky as blue, and I can sort of see their point. But what would you like the world to know about your more nuanced perception of various colors the sky could be seen as being?” you might get a more interesting answer.) (more…)

This piece from Shine is just too true. I feel lucky to have not worried about getting old when I was still in my 20s, like many women today. Yeah, I worried about being fat, even though I wasn’t, but at least women who are in their 40s now were largely spared that particular angst, mainly because (I think) Botox wasn’t yet in such wide use.

In any event, this is a great piece by my friend Liz Brody.

Botox @18? Is the anti-aging pressure insane?

editor

• by Liz Brody, Shine Staff, on Mon Aug 16, 2010 1:00pm PDT

Stephanie Dolgoff is the kind of gal you want on your first responder team. Love crisis or career slider—she’ll decode it like a woozy anti-spam CAPTCHA and clarify the writing on the wall with just the something you never thought of, while simultaneously making you pee in your pants. Now that the magazine editor, blogger, mother of twins, and (in full disclosure) friend, has written a cheekily wise and hilarious book, My Formerly Hot Life: Dispatches from the other side of young, which comes out today, Shine had to have a sit-down, and ask her:  What gives with all this the anti-aging mania? READ THE REST HERE

I’m not a starf**cker, generally speaking. As Us magazine takes pains to point out each week, they’re just like us: gas-pumping, coffee-buying, child-schlepping bipeds, wearing hats to hide bad hair days, wading their way through marital swampland, and probably freaking out about weird dermatological abnormalities that are hopefully not cancer.

On the occasions that I’ve met celebrities, usually to interview them for magazines or because I live in New York City and even stars need to wait endlessly on line at the DMV (that’s where I met the dude who plays Miranda’s Steve in Sex and the City, who was very perfectly nice and very short), I manage not to gush or fawn or praise their “oeuvre” because I find it a little weird and uncomfortable that I know way, way more about them as human beings than they do about me.  (more…)

My positively stunning friend Judith was just told by a dermatologist that she was “the perfect candidate for Botox.” I don’t yet have the full story, so I don’t know if the remark was solicited or simply offered as helpful “medical” advice, but knowing Judith, it was the latter.

The perfect candidate? Don’t you love how they make it sound like it’s a privilege to get to inject botulism toxin into your face? I’m the perfect candidate! Oh, yay! How can I convince you, Mr. Cosmetic Dermatologist, to deign to allow me pay you hundreds of dollars so you can stick a needle between my eyes and paralyze my facial muscles? Honey, did you hear I’m a candidate? I’m so glad I’m a candidate!

I know that some people see Botox as a boon, and are grateful its out there as an option. That’s fine–I’ve done electrolysis in places you don’t even want to know about, so I’m the last person to judge anyone for how much pain or expense they’re willing to go through to feel that they look prettier.

I also get that the word candidate used in this context means that the patient is likely to have a good outcome with the procedure.

But I just can’t stand the bullshit marketing that’s meant to make Botox sound like something only a privileged few are fortunate enough to be allowed to do. Candidate my ass (no, that’s not where I had electrolysis)! You’re a candidate for the presidency. You’re a candidate for a competitive fellowship. You’re even a candidate for a medical trial, if you meet all the criteria.

You’re not a candidate for Botox, even if some people might have better results than others. You’re a potential customer, just like you are for a new car or a carpet steamer or a lug nut. The idea that anyone would make it seem like an elite opportunity to de-pleat your face makes me annoyed. In case you couldn’t tell.

Do they have Botox for grumpiness?

Photo by Emdot CC