Cindy Crawford and Leeza Gibbons

A lot of women are talking about this picture

I think it's less about what Cindy Crawford really looks like and more about how anyone can take an unflattering photo.  Apparently the shot is from a December 2013 photo shoot so perhaps she hadn't quite recovered from an over-enthusiastic Thanksgiving.  And judging by the sunbathing pic that her husband posted on Valentine's Day she doesn't really look like this. And she wants us to know it.

Still, I have to admit that it's nice to see an unretouched photo and one that shows that Supermodels, while being super, are still just women who age like the rest of us.

I actually wish that she would address what she's doing to her face.  There have been several photos of her with that puffy-just-got-a-lot-of-filler look that is so disturbing and unnatural.  Every time I start to get tired of my aging face in the mirror and begin to think about doing something to combat the lines and wrinkles I'll come across a picture of a celebrity with "filler face" and that calms me right down. I don't want to be wrinkly but I don't want that stretched-skin-Joker-from-Batman-mouth look either.

Yes, I'm talking to you, Leeza Gibbons.

She was SO amazing all season on Celebrity Apprentice!  She was inspiring, effective, kind, and funny!  She was so passionate about her charity and her final project and presentation were fabulous.  Yet I couldn't get over her face - so tight and puffy and shiny that it looked painful. 

It's hard to be an aging woman in today's world.  It must be extra hard to be a woman aging on TV.  I know the pressure; I feel the pressure.  But I found it hard to concentrate on the great work that Leeza and her charity are doing when the words are coming out of a near-Joker-mouth.  

It's too bad we can't all be like Frances McDormand.  Granted we don't all have her genes, but I like her attitude.  It's what I shoot for every time I look in the mirror.

Sore Muscles, Sore Foot - Will Paczki's Soothe My Pain?

Happy Paczki Day!

Today I am distracted by my sore muscles and sore foot.  I'll start with the muscles.  I have been working out once a week at RPM in Birmingham, my daughter and I worked out there together while she was home for the summer (it was a great bonding experience, I highly recommend it) and I kept it up after she left.  I swing kettle bells, do ball slams, and am working towards being able to dead lift 150 lbs. (Check out this article on the benefits of doing dead lifts).  My trainer, Jaclyn, got hit by the flu last week and I didn't have time to get in so I - foolishly - asked if I could work out with her Monday AND Tuesday this week.

WHAT WAS I THINKING?

My arms and back are SO sore today I can barely open the door to the studio (it IS a really heavy door). I don't know how I'm going to live through another hour today. This could be my farewell blog post.  If so, thanks for everything.

Now for the foot.  I've had plantar fasciitis since June.  I've tried stretching, cold/heat, injections, etc.  I finally decided to get smart and am now visiting Blast Pain in Troy.  It no longer feels like I'm walking on needles, but some days feel better than others.  I'm not resting it like I should either (obviously).  I have finally stopped running. So that means any day now I'm going to have to stop eating.  It's going to be Fat Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday for me.

Bravo, Stop Trying To Sell Me Trash

I don't remember when I jumped on the Real Housewives train. And I guess it doesn't matter.  I'm not proud but I'm riding it.  I can give or take those crazy women from Atlanta and New Jersey but can't help but Hate Watch those dames from Beverly Hills.  Even though NONE of them are technically housewives.

I have no trouble watching them fake fight, pretend parent, or have faux "intimate" moments (though I REALLY don't need to see those, Bravo) but when you start using those women to sell me stuff - like I take them seriously - well, that's when I start to get offended.

Those ridiculous car ads with Kyle and her husband? I drove a Jeep Cherokee for 10 years - and LOVED it - but will never buy one again.  Sorry, Jeep.  And I had no plans to see 50 Shades of Grey but if I did, seeing Kyle and Lisa (and I like Lisa!) sitting on the couch talking about seeing it as a girl's night made me want to gag.  And not the kind of gag like from the movie.

Listen, Bravo, I will watch your trash, but I'm not going to pretend that it's anything but trash.  I'm not going to pretend that these women have anything to tell me about parenting, or shopping, or party-throwing, or flower arranging.  And I'm certainly not going to let them influence what I buy.  I watch them because they are ridiculous.  Let them sell their overpriced crap to each other, but leave me out of it.

Why Are All My Pants Chastity Pants?

This has been bugging me for years.  Especially when I find myself running to a restroom in a ... ahem ... hurry.  Why are all my pants built like Fort Knox?  The pair I'm wearing today have a double hook and eye

a zipper

and a button.

Add a belt and my pants are like the multiple locking system on the door of a New York apartment. NO ONE is breaking in!

Is this really necessary? Are men's pants made like this?  Why all the security? Really, my hips can keep a pair of pants from falling off me without much help.  If I need to make a quick change I am out of luck in this outfit.

James Robertson and the Internet

One of the great things about the Internet is that a story like James Robertson's - the guy who walked 21 miles each day as part of his commute to work and kept a perfect attendance record - can get to people around the world and give anyone who wants to help a way to do so.  The bad thing about the Internet is that judgy people also have a forum for their opinions. I am shocked by the people I have seen that are calling James "stupid" for not "finding a better paying job closer to his house."  Really?  When you are working and commuting for 20 hours each day there is no TIME to look for a job.  When you are making just over $10 an hour and barely getting by all you can do is do whatever you can to get by.

How about instead of criticizing James' supposed lack of ambition we choose to appreciate his work ethic and commitment to his employer?  How about we acknowledge the employer and coworkers who obviously make him feel valued?

My favorite part of the story - and the part that shows me how moving James' story really is - is the quote from the banker, Blake Pollock, who noticed James walking and started giving him occasional rides.  He said "I always say to my friends, I"m not a nice guy.  But I found myself helping James." 

Wouldn't we all like to meet someone who moves us to be a better person?  I know I would.  And I think Mr. Pollock is too hard on himself.  There were plenty of people who kept on driving when he stopped, who did nothing when he asked questions.  I think both of these men are role models.  And I'm so happy to see this story embraced and shared.  

I read a disturbing statistic over the weekend: children in low-income families (whose parents are working two or more jobs just to get by) enter pre-school or Kindergarten at a disadvantage because children from wealthier families hear 30 million more words throughout their early life and have bigger vocabularies.  It must be so daunting to be doing everything you can for your child only to hear that your children are still at a disadvantage.  

One of the worst feelings I know is feeling like you are stuck and can't change your situation.  It's nice to see that people are willing to help.

Movies at the Theater (What's in the spray bottle?)

I know it's not original to complain about behavior in movie theaters.  Between people talking like they're in their living rooms and constantly checking their phones I spend most of my time in the theater biting my tongue so I don't yell at people.  And it's a bummer because I LOVE seeing movies and going to the theater.  I love eating popcorn and M&Ms for dinner.

But last night, well last night I observed something I had never seen (or heard) before.  I knew the couple behind us were going to be trouble during the previews.  Their volume level was set at "talking from different rooms of the house."  And they continued to chat with each other throughout the movie.  At full volume. Then I heard a strange "whoosh whoosh" sound.  I heard it again.  And again.  I finally turned around and the woman was squirting something from a plastic spray bottle into her mouth.  The bottle looked like one you get at the hardware store for your 2/1 ratio of white vinegar to water.  Though I doubt that's what was in her bottle.  My guess: vodka.  That way when the usher tries to confiscate it she can say "I wasn't DRINKING vodka!" and technically she would be right.

Books on Tape

God bless the two of you who still get alerts when I update this blog; you have shown tremendous tenacity and you shall be rewarded someday.  Probably in heaven.  I have no way of knowing who you are so I can reward you myself, but apparently you are doing something right because I haven't been here since February and yet there are teens of people checking out this blog on a daily basis.

I'm training for the Detroit Half Marathon in October and, yes, I realize that's still five months away but you wouldn't believe what a tremendous time suck running four (really three) days a week is.  Especially when you're trying to fit in napping.  And I've been writing some fiction.  OK, only since the beginning of April and I only have two pages but I AM working on it and between that and the running and the college visits (for my daughter) and worrying about prom (again my daughter) then worrying about the prom dress (the daughter again) and the orthodontia (son this time) and work (that would be me) I have barely any wine, I mean time, and creativity left.

That's it for my excuses.  The running was going really well until I broke my toe.  About two weeks ago I had a particularly exhaustive day with a surprise funeral thrown in and when I got home I should have tried to get some sleep but instead I thought 'I CAN fit in a run today!" even though it was super-windy out, and when I was making a turn onto a sidewalk my pinky toe got caught - or caught itself - on the sidewalk (I wear Vibram Five Fingers when I run and now I'm wondering why they're called that because your toes aren't fingers) and that baby toe CLUNG to the sidewalk as if it were trying to make a break for it and head back to the house on it's own and I knew right away that I'd done some kind of damage but I ran another mile and half anyway because my app said I was supposed to run 30 minutes that day and by the end of the night at the Capuchin event at my son's school my toe was large and painful and purple and thank goodness for the cold front that made me not look like an idiot when I wore my Uggs, the only shoes that would fit, into work the next day.  I was pretty sure the toe was broken so I buddy-taped it to the next toe, but the swelling subsided after about 4 days though it's still a little sore after I run on it, and I'm signed up for two 5ks this weekend so Sunday could end up being spent in a wine haze.  As if that weren't enough, I've been listening to Book of Spies while I run and I was about 75% through it when it just QUIT (thankfully near the end of my run) on Tuesday.  For some reason, the last 1/4 of the book didn't download from the library and I had to get on a wait list for it (even though I seriously considered spending $21.95 to download it from the iTunes store because I have invested a lot of miles into that book) and last night's run was not so great because I started listening to some John Grisham book and he's totally forgotten how to write characters and is just writing cases now and it's so. very. dry.  But I opened my email today and Book of Spies is available for checkout so I downloaded it and I have a feeling I'm going to ROCK those 5ks and that's what I've been doing and now you're probably wishing I'd just left it alone, aren't you?