Category Archives: memories

Bill, family, funny stories, LDS, memories, narcissists, nostalgia, Virginia

Spend some money on yourself… it’ll be good for you!

Yesterday was an interesting day. After I posted yesterday’s YouTube related blog rant, I dozed off for a short while. When I woke up, I suddenly thought about a woman I knew of when I was in college. She may or may not appreciate me using her real name in my blog post, but I’m going to do it, because she’s somewhat famous in certain circles and could be considered a public figure. And, as I found out yesterday, she’s currently trending.

Her name is Cullen Johnson Hill. I know of her because we both went to Longwood College (now Longwood University), and she won the Miss Longwood pageant when we were students there. I didn’t know her personally, but she knew some of my friends. After Cullen graduated from Longwood, she went on to win the 1994 Miss Virginia title. She competed in the 1995 Miss America pageant and was the first runner up. I distinctly remember watching Cullen on national television in September 1994. It was at a time when I still didn’t mind watching beauty pageants. I used to think they were kind of fascinating. I especially loved Miss Universe, since the contestants came from all over the world. I thought the international contestants were fascinating; especially the ones who needed interpreters.

The moment of truth…

I was sad that Cullen didn’t win the Miss America title, because naturally, I was rooting for Miss Virginia and a fellow Longwood alum. But I can also understand why Heather Whitestone won the title. Not only was Heather very beautiful, but she’s also deaf. Whitestone was the very first Miss America with a disability. She was also able to perform a beautiful dance solo, in spite of her disability. So, I do think Heather was the right choice for Miss America that year, but I also think Cullen would have been a wonderful Miss America. She really had the look for it, as well as grace and poise.

Time went on. The following year, I wasn’t able to watch the pageant, because I was living in Armenia, working with the Peace Corps. I never really forgot about Cullen, though, and every once in awhile I’d wonder how she was doing. I saw old newspaper articles about her pageant career, including one in which she mentioned a “halo effect” in which people who overcome the biggest obstacles win. It was not a very politically correct observation, although I personally believe there’s a lot of truth in it. This link doesn’t lead to the offending newspaper article, but Cullen’s comment rankled enough that she was mentioned in a SF Gate op-ed.

So anyway, for some strange reason yesterday afternoon, I randomly thought about Cullen. And because I have a lot of time on my hands, I Googled. And there it was… posted on EOnline, December 5, 2023. Cullen had uploaded a rather shocking TikTok video about her struggles with alcoholism. Fresh from a thirty day jail stint, sporting a black eye, and looking unrecognizable from the beautiful woman I remembered from my college days, Cullen was telling everyone like it is for her. She says she’s been an alcoholic since she was 24 years old, and is now on a journey back to sobriety. She says she’s been there before, and it’s “wonderful”. And she’s lucky enough to have a husband and a son who love her very much.

I see that some rather sketchy “media” outlets have picked up Cullen’s story. The TikTok video has been reposted on YouTube by fake news channels that use AI to generate ad revenue. I saw at least one TikTok user reacting to Cullen’s video. I shared the EOnline story on Facebook, because I know some of my friends know Cullen. One friend in particular is a true friend of hers, describing her as a very sweet person. She said she hoped Cullen can restore her health.

I’m not going to throw any shade at Cullen, because honestly, but by the grace of God, I could have easily gone the same way. Like me, Cullen grew up a military brat. Her father, Jay Johnson, was a very high ranking Naval officer, and after he retired, he continued his very successful career in the business world. Johnson had the distinction of taking over the Chief of Naval Operations job from Jeremy “Mike” Boorda, who had a memorable exit from the role when he committed suicide over being accused of “stolen valor”. I don’t know Cullen’s father, but I have been around military folks my entire life, including the high ranking. I imagine she was under tremendous pressure to look and behave in the “right” ways. Alcoholism is a family disease, and it thrives on secrecy and image protection.

I know I could be wrong… and God knows, it’s not easy to live with people who suffer from addiction. But I also know, having grown up with an alcoholic father, that the addiction usually comes from somewhere very painful. Substance abuse is often less about having a good time, and more about trying to dull significant pain through self-medication. My father was himself the son of an alcoholic. My grandfather was described as a great guy when he wasn’t drinking, but when he drank, he became violent and abusive. My dad was only occasionally violent; he was a high functioning alcoholic. But that didn’t make him easy to live with. He and I didn’t have a very good relationship, although I did love him.

On her TikTok video, Cullen wrote in the comments that she doesn’t speak to her father anymore. She also mentions finding her mother passed out once, when she was very young… Again, as a fellow child of an alcoholic, I can relate to that, too. I found my dad passed out more than once. There were a couple of times when he tried to work with fire while he was very drunk. Once, he tried to grill a steak and forgot about it on the grill… My mom, who didn’t know how to use the grill, had me bring the charred piece of meat into the house and leave it in the sink for him to find. Seeing the burned steak had no effect on his behavior. Another time, he tried to burn trash and brush in our backyard while he was drinking. He forgot about the fire and it almost torched his business.

Anyway, seeing Cullen’s TikTok video was a mindblower. I wish Cullen all the best as she recovers. I think she’s very brave to share her story, and I hope she doesn’t encounter too many trolls. My heart goes out to her… and I appreciate that she still has a sense of humor, which she showed in the TikTok video. She did make a less than politically correct comment in the video, and I know some people will drag her for that. I’m not going to, though, because as I mentioned yesterday, I’m not into cancel culture– especially over comments that are simply deemed not “PC”.

While I certainly don’t condone drunk driving, or the fact that Cullen was in jail because she got caught doing that a second time, I also know that alcoholism and other addictions really are diseases. It’s not as simple as just quitting drinking or using drugs. Conquering addiction is a lifelong process that requires strength and diligence. And just like people who have cancer or heart disease sometimes relapse, so do people with addictions.

Which brings me to the title of today’s post…

I remembered mentioning Cullen on my old Blogspot version of The Overeducated Housewife. I went there this morning to see what I wrote. I found the post from September 16, 2013, in which I wrote about how I preferred to watch The Miss America Pageant instead of The Big Lebowski. Bill loves The Big Lebowski, but I am not a fan of that film. I’ve tried to watch it more than once, but I don’t like it. Believe it or not, I don’t like it because of all the swearing. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind curse words, but I don’t like listening to a two hour stream of them. I also mentioned that Donald Trump had made the pageants unwatchable. That was in 2013– before we knew how he’d make the office of POTUS an international joke. I only mentioned Cullen by name in passing on that post, and made an unnamed reference to her on an earlier post, and apparently never posted about her again.

I clicked on the previous day’s post, which was titled “Things Bill does now that he never did when he was LDS…” In that post, I wrote about all the fun stuff Bill does now that he didn’t do when he was a Mormon. I made an actual list, and some of the stuff was pretty epic. Then, at the end of the post, I wrote about how I once had to order Bill to buy himself some new undershorts. Thanks to life with Ex, he wasn’t in the habit of spending money on himself… even on true necessities like underwear. Below is the excerpt about when I made Bill buy new skivvies…

Now, for the underwear story… When we first got married, we were pretty broke.  Bill had purchased some cheap knit boxer shorts from KMart.  I was sitting on our bed when he walked into the room.  The boxers he was wearing were not quite large enough to cover him.  I turned around and was just about eye level with his penis, which was poking out of the hole in the front of the boxers.  I gasped and blushed in surprise and covered my eyes, then said “For God’s sake, cover yourself!”

He blushed.  I wasn’t used to seeing a naked man and wasn’t expecting to see that…  Oddly enough, his ex wife declared me “unsuitable” and a “bad influence” for not being Mormon.  Apparently, I’m not moral, even though the sight of my husband’s penis was a shock to me when we first got married.

I then declared that we were going underwear shopping.  The first thing he was going to do was purchase some decent boxer shorts that he liked and that fit him properly.  It was stark contrast to his ex wife’s style, which was to tell him he should be spending all his money on his family or the church instead of his own basic needs.  She would have begrudged him even purchasing decent underwear… because as a Mormon, he should be wearing church approved skivvies anyway.

I later told my Granny the underwear story.  She was in her late 90s at the time and thought it was hysterical.  She was the mother of nine, so I’m sure such a sight would not have made her blush.

…Some people might say that Bill gave up pleasures of the next life for pleasures in this one…  Somehow, I feel like if there is a next life, the same admonishment might come into play.  Some higher evolved being would tell Bill not to enjoy life now because it will ruin the “next life”.  Is there something beyond this life?  I don’t know.  Bill “knows” more than I do, since he has had a near death experience.  Was it just his brain protecting him?  I don’t know.  But it changed who he is and made him more spiritual, despite all he’s been through.  It has helped keep him from becoming bitter and angry. 

It sure has been fun watching him enjoy living and helping him discover new things.  

Well… yesterday was Bill’s younger daughter’s birthday. I sent her a Jacquie Lawson e-card and a $200 gift card that can be used at a variety of places. I told her I hoped she’d use the gift card on herself. But I also know, since she’s Bill’s daughter, that she might not do that. She’s a very kind and generous person, like Bill is. She’s about to be a mother of four, and she was raised by her mother not to be “selfish” and think of her own needs, even though her mother very selfishly refused to share younger daughter and her sister with their father.

I’m sure Ex would be very angry if she knew I had given her daughter such a generous gift. She’d probably accuse me of “horning in”, or whatever, or trying to “buy” younger daughter’s affections. I’ve only met younger daughter in person ONCE in my lifetime. But I’ve gotten to know her online, and I’m relieved that she’s like Bill. And since she’s like Bill, my guess is that her needs tend to come last. I truly do hope she will use that gift card to get herself something she really wants or needs. Self-care is good for the soul.

Well, that about does it for today. We’re going to a Christmas party tonight… and taking a cab. 😉 I’ve got to get my dreaded Thursday chores done before that happens.

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Armenia, funny stories, memories, mental health, music, nostalgia, YouTube

“It’s the ninth week of training and… ‘Everybody Hurts’…”

I could write a rant about some truly ridiculous things I read on Facebook and watched on YouTube yesterday. I decided not to today, because that would take a lot of time and energy, and I spent most of the morning writing today’s travel blog post about our trip to Armenia. I may not be doing anything particularly heavy hitting on this blog until I’m done with that series. I want to do a good job with it, because Armenia is a very meaningful place to me.

Still, I did want to put something up on this blog today, so I decided today, it would be a music post. This afternoon, I decided to record the REM song, “Everybody Hurts.” I did so because yesterday, while I was practicing guitar, I happened upon that song and found that it wasn’t that hard to play. It’s also a great song for practicing fingerpicking, which I really suck at.

As I was playing it on my guitar yesterday, I realized that “Everybody Hurts” is very meaningful to me. In my life, I have suffered a lot from depression and anxiety. There have been times when it’s consumed my thoughts and made me behave in ways that were distressing, embarrassing, humiliating, and demoralizing. There have been many times when I’ve wondered why I’m here. I’ve thought I was worthless, and no one would miss me if I just gave up and slipped away somewhere. I know… to many people, listening to that kind of thinking is very tiresome, frustrating, and shitty. I have a friend from college who referred to that kind of self-pity as “brently”. I’ve written the story behind “brently” in my blog, and if you are the slightest bit curious, you can click here to read it.

Even though sometimes I get a little “brently”, I know it comes from depression… “stinkin’ thinkin'” that never leads to anywhere productive or positive. It used to be much worse, though. I was clinically depressed for many years before I finally did something about it, back in the late summer of 1998. It took a few months, but my psychiatrist found the right antidepressant for me, and it changed everything. I still get kind of blue and depressed sometimes, but not like I used to. I haven’t truly felt suicidal in many years. But, because I have experience with clinical depression, I understand where “Everybody Hurts” comes from. I also love the way The Corrs covered it. The key is nice for me, and their Celtic arrangement is lovely. I happened to have a backing track of their version of the song, so I decided to try it.

I think it turned out alright. I’m no sound engineer and don’t have the best equipment, but this is pretty solid for amateur work…

But there’s a different, much funnier reason why I decided to record this song today. It has to do with Armenia. Back in the summer of 1995, I was in Peace Corps training with 31 other people, many of whom were about my age. It was just a few years after REM’s album, Automatic For The People came out. Most of us were familiar with their work, and we were all pretty fed up with training.

Peace Corps training was 12 weeks long, and it was very grueling on many levels. It was extremely hot outside, and we had no air conditioning, because we usually had no power. We were doing our work on the ninth floor of a Soviet era building. We usually had to climb the stairs to get to our training sessions. The classrooms were uncomfortably warm and stuffy, and one person enjoyed removing their shoes during our afternoon sessions… It was one inspiration for learning how to say something “stinks” in Armenian.

One day during a training session, someone got a little snippy and cranky and snapped at someone else… I don’t even think it was me, although I definitely have a tendency to get snippy and cranky when the mood strikes. And one of my cohorts, a hilarious woman named Laurel quipped, “It’s the ninth week of training and ‘Everybody Hurts’.” That was all I needed to pull me out of the afternoon funk that often struck during those days in newly post Soviet Yerevan.

So, since I’ve been writing about Armenia this week, I decided today would be a good day to try “Everybody Hurts” and put the results on YouTube. I suspect it could be one of my more successful uploads. I’m not even much of an REM fan. I do like a lot of their songs, but I never worshiped them like some of my fellow Gen Xers did (and maybe still do). I think “Everybody Hurts” is a very consoling song, though… and there’s something moving about the vulnerable yet masculine way Michael Stipe sings it. However, I also love The Corrs’ more feminine styled version, and it probably suits me better than Stipe’s. So that’s the one I did…

I hope some of y’all enjoy it.

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family, funny stories, humor, language, memories

The unusual glory of being a “cusser”…

I’m ashamed to say this, but swearing is one of my many shortcomings as a human.  I cuss like a sailor.  Always have, and probably always will, although I’ve mellowed somewhat in my old age.  Although deep down, I am a lady, to most people, I come off as crusty as a crab cake.  I don’t even like crab cakes. 

Despite my cranky, bitter, and petty demeanor, I still have quite a few true friends who have known me for many years.  I made a lot of those friends in my freewheeling college days.  College was a pretty good time for me, although I spent those years fairly hampered by social anxiety and depression.  I still managed to have a great time at Longwood, despite those handicaps.  I left that school with lifelong friends and mostly good memories.  It was a really nice place to go to school.

One of my friends is a woman I met during the very first week of our freshman year.  In those days, Longwood College (as it was then called), had its bookstore in the basement of the much venerated Ruffner building.  The bookstore wasn’t that big, so one often had to stand in line to get in there at the beginning of each semester.  It was a chore that could take awhile.

I was standing in line, waiting for my turn to load up on overpriced textbooks, and somehow struck up a conversation with the striking redhead standing next to me.  She was a fellow freshman, dressed in denim shorts, a t-shirt, and a beautiful cardigan, which was very stylish in 1990, although curiously, I would imagine it would have been hot as hell to wear that during a typical Virginia August.  It’s also possible that my memory of what she was wearing isn’t quite accurate, although I do know she loved colorful cardigans and pearl necklaces.  What I do remember very clearly is that I noticed the redhead’s well-coordinated, stylish outfit and her brilliant red hair.  She was friendly, confident, and funny.  Her name was– and still is– Donna, a fitting name for her that means “lady”.  Donna is very ladylike and hilarious, to boot. 

We stayed friends throughout college and shared a suite during my traumatic sophomore year of school.  We were both English majors; she also majored in Spanish.  She joined Sigma Alpha Iota, the honorary music fraternity, and I was her big sister.  We were both members of Camerata Singers, which was Longwood’s auditioned choir that included a lot of liturgical, classical, and Broadway music. 

I lost touch with my friend after we graduated.  Then, one day in 2006, I got an email from her.  It was out of the blue.  She had included an adorable picture of her then three year old daughter, who was pretty much her clone.  Donna’s daughter has the same flaming red hair her mother has.  Not long after that, Facebook became a thing, and we reconnected that way.

This morning, as I looked at Facebook memories, I was reminded of something really funny that happened eleven years ago. My old college friend, Donna, was having dinner with her super bright and funny daughter. They had the following conversation:

Tonight over dinner, [her daughter] C says, “Your friend Jenny is a cusser!”

Me: “What are you talking about?”

C: “Your friend Jenny on Facebook. She’s a cusser.”

Me: “Why are you saying this?”

C: “Because every time I get on the computer, your Facebook page is up & she posts pictures that have the F-word by them. She’s a cusser.”

My friend continued…

Okay, so I just scoured your wall & I only saw one picture with the “f-word” near it & it was posted by [our mutual friend] Chris. HE’S the cusser! LOL!

It really is sad how she ended up a crack-baby & all. Especially since I never did any crack.

Donna is a dear friend, and we’ve known each other since 1990. Her daughter, C, is now a student at our alma mater, Longwood University. I’m sure she’s making her own hilarious memories at our school. Every year, on November 7, I see that funny post from 2012 and have a good laugh. What’s even funnier is that as of 2012, C hadn’t yet met me in person.

In 2014, just a few months after we moved to German, Bill and I flew home for my family’s annual Thanksgiving reunion. We were there to memorialize my father, who had passed away in July of that year. The memorial service was held in November so more people could attend. That’s also why I got married in November, although it turned out we couldn’t get married over Thanksgiving weekend. We probably should have done the deed in October. The weather would have been nicer.

Anyway, on that trip to Virginia, we met up with my college friends, Joann, Donna, Donna’s husband, and their hilarious eleven year old daughter, C, who had correctly identified me as a “cusser”. She was just as cute as she could be!  I thoroughly enjoyed meeting her.  As we were about to finish our visit, I said “Do you really think I’m a cusser?”

I treasure my true friends, and their clever offspring…

The girl blushed scarlet and hung her head in shame.  I laughed and asked for a hug, which she willingly gave me.  That day was probably my favorite of the whole visit, since it had been so long since I’d last seen Donna and Joann, and it was the first time I got to meet Donna’s husband and daughter and they got to meet Bill.  Sometimes I think if I lived in Virginia again, I might even have some semblance of a normal social life.  On the other hand, maybe I wouldn’t, because I’m kind of a recluse most of the time.

It’s getting close to Thanksgiving again.  I recently got an email from my aunt announcing the annual shindig, which she blasts to everyone in our humongous family every year.  Although I complain a lot about my family, they’re mostly very good people.  I don’t agree with most of them politically– quite a lot of them are diehard Trump fans and conservative Christians.  But they’re fun to see when there’s a wedding, reunion, or funeral.  Despite being a huge family, we’re somewhat close, thanks to the annual reunion at Thanksgiving.  Some family members are closer than others.  

Lately, I’ve felt like an outcast, but then I live pretty far away now, and have altered my views on religion and politics.  I no longer have the patience for long-winded arguments that I used to have, particularly with southern white men who are convinced that liberal politics are the pathway to Soviet Union style communism.  I might have agreed with them if I hadn’t spent so many years in Europe, which does have some socialist policies that work pretty well and doesn’t resemble the former Soviet Union in the slightest.  Having lived in the former Soviet Union just a couple of years after it fell apart, I feel as though I can speak with some authority about what it was like there.  Europe is not like that at all.  Since we are related, we all seem to have inherited a penchant for arguing to the death.  And some are more insistent about it than others.

In just a few days, I’ll be visiting Armenia, a former Soviet territory, for the first time since 1997. When I arrived there in 1995, it was still pretty Soviet in most things. Today, it’s a lot less like that. Every year, there are fewer people who remember what the place was like when it was a Soviet country. I wasn’t there when it was part of the Soviet Union, but I did go there less than five years after it became independent. And I can tell people I know– especially my conservative Christian southern relatives– that I have yet to see any place like that in my travels, even in countries that have “socialist” leanings. But they don’t listen to me either, because I’m not very religious; I don’t worship Donald Trump; and I am a CUSSER. Somehow, it seems like my love of swearing is the worst of my sins.

Many of my relatives who would argue with me about this are people who have not been outside of the southern United States, let alone “across the pond”.  They don’t respect my experiences or education, and stubbornly insist that they’re exactly right, no matter what, refusing to even acknowledge a perspective that differs from their own.  They don’t seem to understand that even though I’m a woman who is a bit younger than they are, I’m not stupid, inexperienced, uneducated, or in need of “special help”.  I simply have a different viewpoint based on actual things I’ve seen and done.  

I find it frustrating to engage in conversations with a lot of my family members, so I keep my distance. And they avoid me because I curse a lot.  But that doesn’t mean I’m not fond of most of my family members.  I wish them well and would happily break bread with them, if I was in a place where that was easy to do.  Maybe there will come a time when that’s the case again.

Once again, I feel compelled to share this classic song by Paul Thorn, who expertly sums up how I feel about some people who are my kin…

In July 2014, I discovered Paul Thorn’s hilarious song, ” I Don’t Like Half the Folks I Love”, as my dad was dying.  It’s a really perfect description of how I think of some of my family members.   I do love them, but I can’t spend a lot of time with them… and yet, I’d like to see them for an evening, maybe… as long as we don’t talk politics and/or religion.  Ah– never mind.  It won’t happen.  But I still wish them well. And I actually do love most of my friends– the ones who know me well, and accept me for exactly who I am.

Anyway… it might be worth it to go home to Virginia again, if only to see a few friends and eat some genuine American style junk food.  Seriously… I was looking at the menus of some of my favorite crappy chain restaurants in the States… places where there’s nothing at all healthy on the menu.  I certainly don’t need to be eating any of that stuff, but I still kind of miss it sometimes.  

November always makes me think of being home in Virginia.  I do sometimes miss being “home”.  I haven’t seen most of my friends and loved ones in years.  I think it’s having an effect on me.  I also miss really good southern fried food that will send me into a diabetic coma.  *Sigh*…  guess I’ll have to settle for Armenian food this weekend.  I’d probably rather have fried chicken, American style pizza, or ribs.  It’s probably just the hormones talking, though… which will later be silenced by my cranky digestive system. Isn’t it fun getting older? 😉 I think I’ll cuss about it some more.  

Incidentally, today is Election Day in the USA… so please go out and vote, if you can.

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communication, family, holidays, memories

Nothing says “I love you” like Proactiv under the Christmas tree…

Friday morning at last! And I’m kind of happy this morning, because Bill sent me a message yesterday letting me know that he’s going to be home tomorrow, instead of on Wednesday. So I won’t be spending a boring weekend home alone. I mean, it might still be a boring weekend, but I won’t be spending it watching YouTube videos.

I’m feeling better today. The abdominal pain I was experiencing earlier in the week has mostly subsided. I still have a little annoying pressure, but it’s hardly noticeable. This is a good thing. I’ve been living a relatively clean lifestyle, for me, anyway… no beer or wine since Saturday, and no big meals. I just can’t be bothered when it’s just me. I usually cook a roast or a chicken or something and eat that all week, unless I get in the mood to cook. The older I get, the less interested I am in cooking, unless it’s for someone besides me.

I was looking through my Facebook memories this morning and I found a funny status update from 2012. I had a conversation with someone who reminded me of a relative who used to give me “self-improvement” gifts for Christmas and my birthday. One year, she gave me a workout video called The Daytona Beat. I still remember the hideous soundtrack, which included a very annoying and repetitive theme song that I won’t torture you with, except that they used the words “heat” and “beat”. I mean, Daytona is in Florida, right? I would expect it to be hot there, even in the 1980s.

The video my sister sent me… Egad! I think the video had a beginner session, too. Is that a burger and fries on her leotard?

Another year, she gave me a makeup kit from a fancy company. It was probably Estee Lauder, rather than my preferred Lancome. She probably got it for free when she bought cosmetics. Not that that’s a bad thing, per se. We all love the gifts that come with purchases at the cosmetic counter, except that the colors they give you are usually the ones no one buys. I don’t buy a lot of Lancome anymore, because it’s no longer that easy to get it from my usual source. So I do have some Estee Lauder makeup now, although I rarely put it on. Sometimes, I don’t even put it on when I make videos. I did put some on for Alex’s video a couple of days ago, but I didn’t do a full makeup job. It was near bedtime, and I didn’t want to have to take it off.

But the most tone deaf gift came when she presented me with Proactiv, which is an acne treatment system. I have never had particularly severe acne. Yes, I have had zits in my life, but never so bad that I would go to a dermatologist or consider using a special system. I remember her telling me that Proactiv had worked for her, and she’d gotten a “deal”. So she was sharing the wealth.

Gee, thanks…

I don’t mean to look a gift horse in the mouth. The truth is, I was kind of curious about Proactiv at the time, although I never ended up using the gift she sent. By the time she’d sent it, acne was no longer a big problem in my life. This particular sister is a lot more image conscious than I am. Generally speaking, I don’t really care too much about being a hottie. At my age, that particular ship has probably sailed. But even when I was younger, I didn’t really care too much about being super cute. I do wear makeup, and there was a time when I was more interested in dressing well and looking good. However, I was certainly never as concerned about my looks as she was, and it shows. 😉

I’m sure my sister was just being pragmatic. She saw areas in my life in which she thought I could improve myself. It probably didn’t occur to her that the message she was sending was potentially offensive to me. This kind of thinking is pretty prevalent among many people. They see an obvious “problem” and figure all you need to do to fix it is have the right tools. So, I could be thinner, fitter, and therefore cuter, if I just had a cheesy aerobics video to work out to in front of my parents’ floor model television.

I could have a prettier face if I just had some expensive makeup to slather on it, evening out the acne spots and blotches and bringing out my eyes, which are probably my prettiest physical feature besides my hair (which I’m now wondering if I should color again). Why wouldn’t I want to have a prettier face? Actually, the makeup was probably the gift that was the least offensive to me, especially when I was younger and didn’t have money for such things.

I could have smoother, blemish free skin if I’d just use Proactiv. And if I have smoother skin, maybe I’ll be more attractive to others. Being more attractive to others will lead to… what, exactly? Do I actually want to be more attractive to people who only care about what I look like? I’ve seen what often happens to pretty women. They tend to end up with men who treat them like trophies or just want to fuck them. Mind you, that’s not always the case… but it happens pretty frequently. See this post for an example.

It reminds me of the summer of 1997, just before I left Armenia for a month in Europe, then onward to home. At the time, there were a bunch of people in Yerevan trying to sell Herbalife, which is a supplement from a multi-level marketing company. Armenians apparently didn’t realize that, as an American, I come from the country where Herbalife originated, and I already knew about it. They used to stop me on the street to show me before and after photos, figuring I’d be interested in buying their crappy MLM product. Even if I’d had any money back then, I wouldn’t have been interested.

I’m sure they thought they were helping me, when what they were really doing was mortifying and humiliating me. It happened to me at least two or three times that I recall, and every time it happened, I died a little more and eagerly anticipated getting out of there. I was so obviously not Armenian, so people noticed me wherever I went. At that time in my life, I was also a very single virgin and wondering if I’d ever be attractive enough for a man. I pondered if I was just too ugly to live, or something. Fortunately, Bill came into my life two years later… and later, he literally came into me! (Yes, I know… super gross thing thing to write, even if it’s true. I never claimed to be classy.)

The traumatic Herbalife memories are one reason why I am a little apprehensive about going back to Armenia. I was just trying to go about my business, and people would actually stop me to talk about my “obvious problem” and offer to sell me Herbalife. It was beyond offensive, although I can intellectually understand why they did it. They probably thought of it as a win/win. I’d miraculously slim down to “acceptable” standards, and they’d make some much needed money. I’m sure it never occurred to them that I just wanted to be left alone. They had no idea that I spent years obsessing about my looks and body, thanks to comments from so-called “loved ones” who were just trying to be “helpful”. Fuck them. They should focus on themselves, and their peculiar need to “fix” people other than themselves.

In this December 2017 photo, Bill and I were sitting with his mom at the Stuttgart Airport. We were on our way to Berlin. I quipped, “You once came out of your mother, and now you come into me…” I know… that’s not very ladylike, and the expression on his face says it all. I’m surprised he takes me anywhere.

I know I’ve written about this phenomenon a few times in my blog. I actually wrote a different version of this post ten years ago, on my original version of The Overeducated Housewife. I chose not to repost that one, though, because I realize I have different things to write about this trend of people feeling like they need to try to “fix” other people. In my original post, I focused more on how hurt I felt that my sister gave me several self-improvement gifts, seemingly without a thought about how that might come across to me. In this post, I feel more philosophical. More things have happened since 2013.

For example, a few months ago, a relative by marriage– supposedly a “friend”– complimented my looks based on a picture I shared that wasn’t even of me. And she didn’t know me well enough to understand that what she’d meant as a kindness was actually very offensive to me. I vented about the incident in my blog. She read it, got pissed off, and blocked me. I’m sorry she was upset by my negative reaction to her mistake. I’m sure she “meant well”, when she attempted to compliment me and failed spectacularly. Apparently, I should have just suffered in silence. Why is it that other people are allowed to be offended, but I’m not?

In fairness to my relative by marriage, she didn’t actually know me as well as she assumed she did, and didn’t realize that I have a lot of baggage that comes from the expectation that I should be “pretty”. If she’d been an actual friend, she probably would have been more aware… or at least would have been concerned that complimenting my looks, based on a picture of someone who isn’t even me, was pretty offensive. Especially when she laughed it off instead of apologizing. The photo she complimented was of a younger, thinner woman with longer, browner hair than I’ve ever had in my lifetime. It was also an obvious meme that had been passed around Facebook like a plate of stale hors d’oeuvres. Moreover, I don’t think she even read before posting, which is a chronic problem on the gamut of social media platforms. Maybe I shouldn’t have been hurt by that, but I was. Sorry, I’m (clearly) not perfect. Prick me and I bleed.

Bill and me on November 16, 2002… I looked pretty, except for the double chin… 🙁

It’s taken me a long time to move beyond the way I used to think of myself when I was younger. I was much less secure then, which isn’t to say that I’m particularly secure today. But, at least today, I’m married to a man who truly loves me for who I am and doesn’t expect me to change. He doesn’t care when I say outrageous things. He doesn’t criticize the way I laugh. He doesn’t buy me gym memberships or gift certificates to plastic surgeons. He never looks at me in disgust, the way my parents did on multiple occasions, and complain about my appearance… or get so excited when I put on a dress and makeup that he pulls out the camera to take photos for posterity. My parents probably worried that my lack of attention to trying to be pretty was a poor reflection on them. They probably also worried that I’d never get anywhere in life.

I’m truly confused about my looks. I’ve been told I’m “pretty” by a number of people. Sometimes they even seemed to mean it when they said that. Other times, it seemed more like they pitied me… like the time I was at an ACOA (adult children of alcoholics) meeting, and some guy exclaimed, “You’re so pretty!” and then started gushing about something that was kind of embarrassing at the time (don’t remember the details now, but I do remember how I felt). I think it might have had to do with my working at a restaurant and losing weight because I had no time to eat and was constantly running all day. I suddenly lost about 35 pounds, but I was also constantly sick.

I do believe the guy meant it when he said that; he was a good person who I truly think was trying to help me feel better about myself. I had a pretty low self image at that time, even though I was kind of blossoming then– losing weight, dressing well, getting haircuts, and wearing makeup. But then some time later another man– a different guy– from that meeting took me on a scary ride on the Colonial Parkway and asked me for sex. Maybe it’s safer to be ugly.

This is why I prefer to hang around with dogs. Dogs don’t care what you look like, as long as you feed them and take them for walks. Ditto to horses and donkeys and other farm animals. And you never have to worry about them propositioning you for sex because they think you’re “hawt”. Fortunately, I’m at an age now that even if I got really skinny and “cute”, most people would think I’m too old to “hit that”.

Anyway, my main point is, y’all, if you’re thinking of giving someone an unsolicited “self-improvement” gift, take a moment to consider how that gift will be received. If you truly care about the other person’s feelings and self worth, consider giving them something that doesn’t indicate to them that you think they need improvement. It will save you both a lot of angst. It’s also a much kinder and more considerate thing to do. Now, if they specifically ASK you for Proactiv or something else like that, that’s totally different.

Well, I guess I’ll get on with the day. It’s 10:00 AM, and I’m not dressed yet. But that’s a pretty normal thing for me. Hopefully, I won’t offend anyone by being a dumpy old housewife as I walk Noyzi. 😉

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controversies, healthcare, memories, videos, YouTube

The price of being motivated by Mary Lou Retton…

A couple of days ago, when I was writing about Mary Lou Retton’s recent health crisis and her daughter’s subsequent crowdfunding campaign, I went on YouTube to jog my memory. I found a large collection of ads she did in the 80s and 90s. Watching some of them was quite a time warp for me, although I still remembered them well. Below are just a few ads from back in the day…

This is one I remember really well, probably because of the opening lines of the ad…

But I also remember Mary Lou pitching Energizer batteries… and she did so a few times.

It’s SUPERCHARGED!
You got it!
She actually looks really excited about the batteries!

She also did a lot of ads for Revco, which was a drug store chain that was eventually sold to CVS. I remember her saying “And another thing…” in a lot of those ads, but I can’t seem to find those particular commercials on YouTube. However, there are plenty of other Revco ads she did back in the day. Behold…

Here’s she’s talking about how Revco allowed people to talk with the pharmacists and gave them low prices.
Here she talks about how her Revco ads saved some woman’s life by encouraging her to read the patient information leaflet. The woman had been taking her medication wrong.
And the ever popular Wheaties ads…

Obviously, Mary Lou Retton has historically been pretty good at pitching things. She has a big smile that is always convincing. Her eyes twinkle, and she has no problem hamming it up for the camera. It’s interesting to me that Mary Lou did so many ads for Revco, a place where people used their health insurance benefits, but she doesn’t have health insurance herself. As of today, just a few days after her second eldest daughter, McKenna Kelley, posted a crowdfund plea for donations to fund Mary Lou’s current hospital care, the fund is up to $414,195. That is an astonishing amount of money, although sadly, it’s probably still not going to be nearly enough to pay off her medical debts if she really doesn’t have any insurance.

I remembered that Mary Lou Retton has also done public and motivational speaking. I also remembered seeing her profile listed on a site that pitched her services. Last night, I decided to see if the profile was still available on the Washington Speakers Bureau Web site. It was, and still is… Feast your eyes.

Notice that her fee ranges between $25K and $40K. Granted, we don’t know how often she’s been asked to speak recently, nor do we know if the people who would book her would be expected to pay for her airfare, ground transportation, and hotel. However, I would expect that if she was less in demand recently, that asking amount would be less than it is now. Mary Lou is also listed on a site called Celebrity Speakers Bureau, and interested parties are advised to call for her fee. On Sports Speakers 360, she asks for $20,001-$30,000 to speak.

The Washington Speakers Bureau site is very interesting browsing, by the way. There’s a huge range of speakers available– everyone from George W. Bush to Elizabeth Smart. And it does look like, based on this site, Mary Lou’s fees are quite a bit lower than some others. I see some of the most powerful and influential people require calls to the WSB for information on fees, while lesser known people have their fees readily listed.

I don’t begrudge Mary Lou Retton for charging whatever she can for her public speaking talents. She worked very hard in the gym for years, and she was the first American woman to win all around gold at the Summer Olympics. She is a legitimately successful person and should earn money accordingly for everything she’s accomplished. It still doesn’t explain why her daughter has to ask the public to fund Mary Lou’s medical costs when it looks like she could have purchased health insurance for herself. And her family is not being forthcoming about why Mary Lou lacks health insurance.

I guess what I really find sad about this situation is that there are so many people who aren’t famous, and don’t get paid five figures to give speeches, who also need help paying their medical bills. I mean, it’s great for Mary Lou Retton that she’s well known and loved by many, but I can’t help but think about much less fortunate people who can’t raise money to pay for their necessary healthcare. And living in Europe for the past nine years reminds me that there are so many developed nations in the world where this kind of thing isn’t necessary, because healthcare is so much more affordable and people are expected or even required to be insured. Most people also don’t have access to the U.S. Olympic Committee, who are reportedly reaching out to Mary Lou’s family to help with her expenses.

Mary Lou Retton is still motivating people to spend money, even though she’s in the hospital. It used to be she’d get them to spend by lending her likeness and perkiness to commercials. Then she’d get them to spend in order to hear her speak about her accomplishments and how to be a winner. And now they’re spending to help pay for what will almost surely be astronomical hospital bills, to say nothing about the doctors and pharmacists who will also need to be paid. While people are certainly free to spend their money as they choose, it does seem to me that the least Mary Lou’s family could do is be more transparent about why she needs the money, especially if she’s reportedly worth millions and can command such high fees for motivational speaking engagements. And especially when she is aligned with a political party that is all about personal responsibility and not looking for handouts (unless, of course, we’re talking about corporations).

I continue to wish Mary Lou Retton well in her recovery. I hope her situation highlights how badly the United States needs extreme healthcare reform and a complete revamping of our system. In the meantime, we still have videos like the one below for a good reminder as to why Mary Lou used to pitch Energizer batteries…

Yikes! The 80s were weird!

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