They Called Me "Wolf Woman"

It's funny how your memory works. One event can trigger a string of thoughts that lead to a moment in your personal history you've long since forgotten. Last week I purchased a strapless dress for a show I was doing. As I examined myself in the dressing room, peering at every segment of my body, I paused when my eyes skimmed across my arms. While my daily workouts chiseled them out every so slightly, they were hairy as hell. (Yes, I have hairy arms - get over it.) At that moment, when I felt most defensive of my follicle covered forearms - the flashback came!

It was the summer after sixth grade and I was off to 4-H camp. Every year, I headed off into the wilderness for a week with my peers to learn about the great outdoors, but most importantly to escape the horrors of parental rule. At this point in my life, I was a plagued with acne and a bad hair cut. Even after a whole year of pimple jokes, I was not prepared for additional commentary on my awkward pubescent body. Nevertheless, I trekked to camp loving myself, flaws and all.

The second day of camp, we strolled down to the pool for some relief from the summer heat. It was everyone's first appearance in swimwear, so all the boys were soaking up every inch of each feminine form. Knowing it would likely be years before they'd see what was under the suits, they made it their task to look as closely as they could at the lycra that separated them from the treasure beneath. During the eye groping march to the pool, one boy shouted out, "look at those hairy arms and legs...it's wolf woman." I prayed he was referring to one of my compadres, but when I looked up the small taunting circle had already formed around me. "Wolf woman, wolf woman," they chanted all the way to the bottom of the hill.

Knowing that tears would only lead to more jeers, I decided to save my weeping for the night hours when no one could witness it. "Why me?" I thought. "Did God have to give me acne and wolf-like qualities too?" While the guys found other targets throughout the week, every once in awhile some insecure middle schooler would compose a wolf woman chant just for the heck of it. I stood strong in the face of the hecklers knowing I would never be called wolf woman again...as soon as I returned home, I planned to engage in a campaign against my body hair.

At the end of the week, our parents shuffled us into overloaded cars to transport us home. No sooner than my mom could ask about my camp experience, I informed her I was going to shave my legs. She used her standard reply of "you're too young" but I already had a barrage of arguments lined up for the battle. I told her about my horrible week and let her know that either she could help me or punish me for doing it on my own. Yes, this was a bold move that could have resulted in my whole summer being lost to house arrest, but I didn't care. What kind of summer could I have as "wolf woman"? Seeing the fire in my eyes, she knew I could not be stopped, so she reluctantly agreed to tutor me on the art of shaving.

While I littered the bathtub that evening with what seemed like pounds of leg hair, I never got around to disrobing my arms. No one really mentioned them after that summer, so I left them in their natural form all these years. For some reason, the strapless dress compelled to kill wolf woman completely. I looked down at those hairy arms in the dressing room and said "good-bye."

Down with the Experts

Every morning I like to start the day with a little news. Most of the time I defer to the internet so I can select the stories that interest me most and depress me least. Morning news shows typically tangle my insides with the roller coaster of information. First they drop me into the pit of "nothing's going right in the world", take me up to "human interest story about kids and disaster survivors" then turn everything upside down with a freaking recipe segment. The thing that disturbs me most are the "ask and expert" segments. It is at this moment on the ride that I feel like the cotton candy, jumbo hot dog, and funnel cake I ate might come back for a second appearance.

To be fair, morning shows are the only programs with experts. All forms of media buy into the expert hype. Experts even have their own shows, books, and even blogs to tell you what's right, wrong or out for this season. As I sit in amazement of how so many people have become experts on so many things, I wonder if this is a world constructed by the media or the public's inability to make day to day decisions. Perhaps people feel like they are not experts at living, so they defer to Expert A for their family life, Expert B for their finances, and Expert C for their yucky wardrobe. Are people really so uncomfortable with making a choice that they feel it's necessary to listen to a stranger?

Don't get me wrong, I value another person's experience and think we all can learn important lessons from each other. I believe it is also important to consult with professionals before making large scale decisions outside your everyday world. For example, if you are a first time home buyer, you should absolutely talk to several people who have been through the process. If you decide to start your own restaurant, you should most certainly speak with restauranteurs as well as financial advisors. (You should also watch my favorite restaurateur, Gordon Ramsay on BBC America.) However, my concern is when we rely on "experts" to give us common sense solutions to problems we should be able to solve on our own.

Several of my family members reference one particular finance expert in conversations and e-mails on the group list serv. My husband and I cringe when her name comes up because we think she's making a mint off information grade schoolers could figure out. "Don't spend money you don't have." DUH!!! "Pay off high interest rate credit cards first." Double DUH!!! If people can't figure this stuff out without this lady's manicured catch phrases, then our country is in worse shape than anyone ever imagined. Somehow the Grinch stole our common sense!

I say, take back your common sense and your confidence! You have the power to run your life the way you see fit without constantly checking in with someone who will never fully understand your situation. You can be informed without being paralyzed by expert interpretations of reality. Become an expert of your own life and you will find that the best ideas come from within!

Acting or Dating?

When I made the decision several months ago to pursue a full-time career in acting, like most young hopefuls I began researching agents. Finding a good agent who believes in you and has the clout to get you in doors otherwise closed to you, is like finding the hidden cloud land in Super Mario Brothers. It is a lower stress, yet higher return wonderland of coins waiting to be pocketed. The hustle becomes much easier and there are definite monetary rewards (if, indeed you know what you are doing). Good agents increase the number of opportunities you have to showcase your talent in front of casting directors, which in turn increases your chances of getting parts.

While life after getting an agent seems fabulous, the process of getting one is taxing. It is much like dating the handsome captain of the football team - everyone wants him! On top of that, he duly informs you that he has many other girlfriends who have more experience than you. Even if you are a stunner, he may already have your type. After an audition or a workshop meet and greet, you wait for him to call the whole time wondering if you were good enough, cute enough or different enough to "date."

Last night I attended my fourth agent workshop of 2008. I really liked this guy and thought we had a great time. However, I felt the same way about the last guy. We genuinely connected, but I haven't heard from him since. I never had this problem in real life dating, but I used some strategies that may be frowned upon in the business world. (wink, wink) So, I guess I'll join the other near-desperate and agentless actresses. We'll paint our toenails, eat ice cream out of the container, and roll each other's hair together while we await our knight with the golden rolodex.

'Tis Better to Tell

Two days ago, the 55th governor of New York State was sworn into office. Before he could get settled into his wing-backed chair, he let the world know he stepped out on his wife during a marital slump. From then on, news stations fielded commentary from outraged citizens wondering why government officials couldn't keep it in their pants. According to one researcher, the public shouldn't expect politicians to be any more moral than the average Joe. She then quoted a study which found 75% of married men and 50% of married women have extramarital affairs. This means you could throw two rocks into a crowd and hit a cheater. That's just sad!

Some people were fairly baffled after the Gov. Patterson press conference confession. Why would he put his business on front street, especially after ex-governor Spitzer has become every comedians kinky sex joke punchline? Simple. He knew as soon as they announced his governorship, the "other woman" was on the phone with Random House. She probably already typed up a draft of their sexcapades during his term as lieutenant governor and was just waiting for him to take the next step to increase the value of her tell all. Patterson knew he better make his announcement before any tapes, stained clothing or descriptions of unmentionables surfaced.

In politics these days, the "tis better to tell" strategy is the only way to go. This isn't like years ago when people kept secrets at all costs. Now you can bet your bottom dollar people are taking notes when you speak and saving souvenirs when you creep. With the finance world in disarray, it seems the only big business left is secret selling. If the extramarital affair statistic is true, 36 other governors should be calling press conferences soon...or creating revenue for mistresses.

Ramsay for President

Each night when my husband gets home from work, we settle into our dents on the sofa to watch our new favorite show, "Kitchen Nightmares" on BBC America. While the show is actually a few years old, Gordon Ramsay's magical personality is timeless. If you haven't watched any of his shows, head to Youtube as soon as you finish this blog. I'm sure you will find him as enchanting as we do.

"Kitchen Nightmares" is an hour long reality series where Gordon Ramsay, uber successful chef and restauranteur, travels around Europe helping struggling eateries get back on track. He uses very frank and bleep worthy language to drive home his points. Whether you love hearing the word "bullocks" over and over again or you have no idea what "bullocks" are, this is the show for you. An added benefit, is the great information you get regarding running a successful restaurant. (Perhaps, that should be a primary benefit, but I really like hearing "bullocks.")

Last night, I wondered if Gordon Ramsay's keep it simple and brutally honest style could be just what we need in our government. While press conferences could only be aired in their entirety on premium channels, I believe we'd all have a more reasonable understanding of the state of the union. Ramsay would no doubt strip governmental bureaucracy down to its knickers and expose the monster beneath. In the end, I'd be grateful to know that there were no weapons of mass destruction, just an ornery cuss itching for a fight or that every ballot I've submitted since my 18th birthday was never really counted but has been recycled into McDonald's drink caddies.

After all the mismanagement and tangled logic is exposed, Ramsay would overhaul the government just like those dysfunctional kitchens. Officials would be fired, offended and/or transformed within the hour. Then we'd be back on track and turning a profit in no time. Plus, we'd all have some great recipes to try at home.

That's Just Tacky

The turmoil in the financial sector created a somber mood over the past few weeks. Everyday, another layer of bad news is peeled away from the banking industry onion. Bankruptcy, layoffs, and slumping stock prices pepper the headlines. While most news stories focus on the impersonal facts and figures of it all, we must be reminded that people are ultimately impacted by these drastic events. Families suffer, not just stock prices.

Perhaps one New York real estate agent failed to see the personal side of this issue. Armed with business cards and no doubt his best designer suit, he headed over to the Bear Stearns office to drum up some business. Assuming that many Bear employees would need to relocate, this agent decided to announce that he was ready and willing to list their properties. He stood in front of the building and actually had the nerve to execute this horrendous plan on a day when the Wall Street Journal all but had a special insert outlining the collapse of the company.

Those who know me understand that I'm all about making a dollar out of fifteen cents. I try to find a business opportunity wherever I go, but there are lines that even I won't cross. This guy is no better than a funeral home director passing out fliers at a disaster site. Bear employees are undoubtedly attempting to make sense of their situation and most certainly don't need to be solicited by a wacky, tacky real estate pusher. And quite honestly, if I were an employee who happened upon this soul-less pitch, I would have taken as many cards as I could possibly hold. This way, I would not have to use my own materials for the "anti-agent" campaign. Regardless of my own employment situation, I would always be busy making sure this realtor never got work.

Welcome to My World

Today I enjoyed a rare treat. I was able to head off to work before my husband. For those of you who have partners or roommates who leave before you have to roll out of bed, you'll appreciate my situation. Typically, Mike shuffles around several minutes after the alarm sounds in preparation for a morning workout. Most days, he jingles the keys incessantly before heading out the door. While I'm sure he doesn't intend to disrupt my lottery winning dreams, inevitably he does. Once he is off to the gym, I slowly fall back asleep underneath a pile of covers and a saggy pillow. No sooner than I have the lottery ticket in my hand again, he storms back into the house, breathing heavy and sighing. Then I quietly suffer through another half hour of lights flickering, water running and clothes jostling.

This morning, revenge was mine! I gleefully popped out of bed at 5:20 a.m. to prepare for my first call to "As the World Turns." I rushed around as quietly as I could so as not to disturb him as much as he disturbs me. I must admit, I did take pleasure watching him squirm beneath the covers. I knew the squirm all too well. It is the most frustrating time of all when you have been tossed from the bosom of your slumber. There you were sleeping like a newborn and you know in your heart of hearts, you will not achieve that level of relaxation again. "Poor Mike", I thought as I scurried from the bathroom to the kitchen and back again.

After a long train ride to Brooklyn, I finally arrived at the studio. Once I was settled in, I checked my e-mail. Mike wrote a lovely note of encouragement. He also shared that my morning preparation noises ruined his sleep. I couldn't help but chuckle thinking of all the mornings I contemplated hurling my pillow into the shower to stop him from humming or better yet take those keys and stomp on them. Welcome to my world, darling.

Now You Want to Talk

Presidential campaign season is an exciting time for Americans to really grapple with their political views or lack thereof. The media and candidates work hand in hand to keep our t.v. screens and periodicals filled with debates and commentary, promises of govermental overhauls and commentary, mudslinging and commentary...and surprise, surprise commentary about commentary. This is a time for a lot of talking and minimal "doing." While much of the campaign reality show is fairly predictable, this year there's a new twist, not in the media coverage...but on the ground.

One morning near the beginning of primary season, I hopped on the elevator with one of my neighbors. I saw him regularly and we had fallen into a head nod routine. (Translation: Hello in New York) Sadly, I did not know his name and I doubted he knew mine. Our relationship was sufficiently pleasant, but in no way developed. Anyway, on this particular morning as we assumed our positions in the elevator, he turned to me and said "have you been following the presidential campaigns?" Suddenly, my heart dropped. I knew where he was going. After all these mornings the first thing a white man says to a black woman "have you been following the presidential campaigns?" He couldn't start off with, "how are you?" or "how about this weather?" or "I can tell you didn't iron those pants this morning."

This was his door in to the secret society of blackness. I knew he wanted to bring up Obama and I was determined not to let him. I told him that I hadn't been following the campaign coverage closely because I hated all the mudslinging and non-issues that peppered the process. I prayed he would see I was not willing to engage him, but alas he did not stop. "Can I make a suggestion? Check out Barack!" he said. "Lord have mercy" I thought. I wondered if the elevator could move any faster. I gave my nameless neighbor another head nod and a "will do" while I waited for the doors to open. I could see out of the corner of my eye that he was smiling like he just stopped a 10 year old from smoking. He was so proud that he had a talking point with black people for at least the next few months...maybe even longer depending on the outcome of the election.

I left the elevator really wondering about the state of race relations. Perhaps I was overprocessing this moment. Maybe all these years of systematic oppression had tangled my senses. As the weeks progressed, I encountered more Barack sharing white people. On the subway, at the dry cleaner, and even at the local diner. As if it were a part of some coordinated effort, each Barack talk took place in the exact same manner. I pinched myself to be sure this wasn't some kind of crazy dream. Why did everyone want to ask me about Obama when there were so many other potential non-black voters in their midst? Why did everyone have the same look like "I'm white and I'm voting for Barack and that makes me cool"?

These random acts of Barack talk have inspired me to start my own campaign. My goal is to improve cross cultural communication. I have not thought of any catchy names for this venture, but the premise is to keep it simple. If you really want to make a connection with me, there are plenty of other universal topics for us to explore. Start with "hello" not "you voting for Obama?" I'm excited that there is a base of multicultural support for Barack Obama. I just hope people don't feel some artificial connection to black folks just because they are supporting a black candidate. We all need to be aware that relationships are build on mutual understanding, not talking points.

With that said...GO BARACK!!!

Showing Your Behind

When I was a child, my dad had a favorite saying if I was misbehaving in public. Right as I crossed the line he'd always say, "stop showing your behind!" Okay, I'm lying. He would say "ass" but to make this a family friendly forum, I'm going to pretend he said, "behind." Anyway, I always thought this was funny because I can't recall an occasion during my formative years where I actually exposed my derriere, but friends and family do write in if I need to be corrected. Even though my hind parts were safely hidden inside my pants, I knew exactly what he meant when he made the statement. "Showing your behind", is when you expose a side of yourself that should be covered. It also just so happens to be the side that's full of another word he used often. (For the sake of keeping this family friendly, we'll use "poo" for that word.)

As I got older and did not hear this phrase as often anymore, it still never lost its relevance. I live in Manhattan now and if I had a penny for every time I saw people showing their behinds (literally and figuratively), I would be rubbing elbows with Trump. It seems that people here have a knack for bringing their ugliest behaviors out into the streets. "Behind showing" is an epidemic and it must be stopped.

Recently, I was selected to be a contestant on a game show. For fear they will take the money I didn't win, I will refrain from sharing any details that may reveal the network or show. Even if I were so bold as to name names, I would have nothing bad to say about any of the sponsors of this event. I was treated very well and enjoyed the experience greatly. This example of "behind showing" is about a fellow contestant (or non-contestant as the case may be since neither of us actually graced the stage).

This "behind shower" teetered between hot and cold during all the pre-show activities. He was quite good looking, so I focused my attention on his finely tuned instrument instead of the sour notes that emerged from it. We all knew when the show started that some of us would not ever leave the waiting area. It was nerve racking, but such is life. Sometimes you make it to the big game and have to sit on the bench. Suck it up, move on, and enjoy cheering for those who are playing.

Well this guy didn't share my "get over it" attitude. He made it up in his mind that he was going to show his behind. First he started telling us why he thought he wasn't selected. He assumed that his cockiness kept him moving forward. Then he went on a tirade about how much money he could have made if he had not come out for this. Finally, he gave the production team a nasty tongue lashing. It was ugly and unnecessary. Not only did he show his behind, he spread his cheeks to display what was inside.

Behind showers of the world, let me assure you that those who view your nasty backsides exposed tell others. Unlike this family friendly, legally responsible blog, we share your name, hometown, and web link to your personal photos. Eventually, you will apply for a job or another show and wonder why you got the cold shoulder. It will not be because of your cockiness or your daily earning potential, but rather the result of a highly organized verbal campaign against your unsavory behavior. You will be stopped!!!

Log on tomorrow for more tales of "behind showing" and other great adventures.