An Ode To Female Friendships

When it comes to friendships, I’ve always been partial to the Golden Rule: “Make new friends, but keep the old…” Yes, it’s simple, but there’s considerable power in just those seven words. I’ve been lucky to have some wonderful friends over the years — friends who have lifted me up, helped me grow and helped me discover who I am — and maybe that’s why I’ve long championed the power of female friendships. They’re something that we should never underestimate or take for granted, and seeing that March is Women’s History Month, their importance seems especially palpable these days.

Then I read The Atlantic’s recent (powerful…!) piece “Broad City and the Triumph of the Platonic Rom-Com,” and I finally felt like someone GETS IT. The article does an excellent job of bringing the female friendship back into focus, even after things like the spinster label and the pressure to make a mad dash and find a husband have systematically worked to thwart and undermine the very essence of women.

“Abbi and Ilana share, basically, what a lot of young women—and young men—share in this age of delayed marriage and emergent adulthood and platonic roommates and geographic peripateticism and economic prosperity and economic uncertainty: a friendship that occupies the psychic space that used to be devoted to spouses and children. While the marriage plot may still, dissolved and distended, drive many of Hollywood’s cultural products, Broad City reflects friendship’s age-old, but also new, reality: The show is suggesting that its heroines are already, effectively, married. To each other.”

You know I love a good old-fashioned rom-com (picture me having a cry fest during When Harry Met Sally), but in so many of them, even the ones that center on a girl squad, are about women’s lives in relation to men — who they are, what they’re doing and where they’re going, you know, depending on the whims of a man. They’re, quite honestly, biding their time together until their Prince Charming comes riding along on his horse to whisk them away to their Happily Ever After. It doesn’t seem to occur to them that, perhaps, they’ve already found their Happily Ever After. They’re too busy looking forward (read: looking for HIM) to stop, look around and see what’s right in front of them. Bechdel Test, anyone?

“What that amounts to is a culture that is not only recognizing the primacy of friendship, but trying to carve a space for it. A culture that is trying to turn deep, passionate friendship—best friendship, platonic life partnership of the Fey-Poehler and Broad City vein—into its own kind of category.”

I love that, don’t you? I’m not saying, “down with relationships,” but men most certainly don’t have to be your whole world, especially when they come at the expense of or replace your existing female friendships. Sometimes, I think we forget that IT IS possible to have both simultaneously.
Your friends are going to accept you for who you are. They’re not going to leave you or desert you or send you out-of-this-world confusing mixed signals. They’re real and loving and true. Make no mistake: The bonds of female ties are strong and everlasting. Never come between a woman and her friends because, really, we’re going to stick together. Forever. And that, my friends, is such a beautiful thing.

What’s the best friendship advice you’ve ever received, friends? What have you learned from the women in your life? What friendship advice would you give others?

P.S. 25 famous women on female friendship and celebrity BFF power couples! 🙂

Ms. Bear on Her Father’s 99th Birthday!

Milton Lars Erlandson was born on January 26th, 1917. Today, he would have been 99 years old! Melissa asked me to do a guest post remembering “Pops” as she always called him.

When I think back to my childhood, my dad was always kind of a larger-than-life figure. Literally, he was a big guy, over 6 feet tall, and to me, as a little kid, he always seemed so big. I lived back in the old days, where mothers stayed home and raised kids, and I remember being so impressed that my dad was able to earn so much money to give us such a wonderful life. I always wanted to know how much he made, but people back then were very closed-mouthed about money matters!

My dad was a man of the Mad Men era. He went to work looking spiffy in a suit and tie every day and had long lunches in nice restaurants on the company dime. He would arrive home promptly at 5:45 every day, and on the rare occasion that he was late, my mom would sit down at the piano and play a song because that always made him pull in the driveway!

Growing up, I never felt that I knew him too well. His politics and mine were in stark opposition. This was during the era of the Vietnam War and dinner table conversations would sometimes get a little heated!

When I left home and would call my parents, my dad would say hi and ask how I was and then always said, “Wait a second and I’ll get your mother for you.” It wasn’t until after my mother’s death that I really began to see my father as a person, learning about his deepest feelings and simultaneously realizing the depth of his love for my sisters and me. For you see, for all the masculine bravado, deep down, my dad was an old softie, with the same feelings as the rest of us. I am so thankful for all the years I had to get to know him after my mother died.

There is not a day that goes by that I don’t think of my dad and smile. For I know, wherever he is, that he is just as proud of me today as he was my whole life. It’s too bad that I didn’t really realize this earlier. So, today, if you still have parents living, take a moment to call them up and ask them some questions before it’s too late to really get to know the person inside that larger-than-life figure that you call mom and dad!

On My Habit of Falling In Love With Medical Residents

So, not to get all psychologically insightful and heavy today, but I have this habit of falling for people in the medical profession. More specifically, my heart does back flips for those doctor-in-training types — interns, residents, fellows, etc — who are poised to be the future of modern medicine. It’s getting quite bad, this tendency of mine. I hesitate to call it an obsession, but really, maybe I should just come right out and be honest about it all. Because, if I am being honest, this habit is nothing new, like a new rash you discover one morning when you wake up and can’t remember just how you got it. On the contrary, I know EXACTLY how I got this “disease” and it’s been years in the making.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved the hospital — you probably already know that, right? Anyway, those white, hallowed halls were my happy place, the place where I felt at once safe and protected; it’s ironic, I suppose, seeing as how my hospital stays were typically some of my most unhealthy times, but apparently, I never felt better.

And, something tells me that my comfort in an otherwise scary place can only be attributed to those would-be doctors in their doctorly lab coats. Picture it: I’m lying in bed (and no, this is not the start of a dime-store romance novel…), usually asleep or watching some mindless daytime TV, when I hear the familiar pitter-patter of feet and overhear the hushed conversations. Then, like angels rising from the mist, there they were. They were like Greek gods coming down from Mount Olympus — make no mistake here, for I am most certainly NOT exaggerating about this.

There was the group that followed my orthopedic surgeon on his rounds, some of them furiously taking notes while others simply looked on and tried to soak it all in. There was the medical resident who assuaged all my fears when I had to be rushed to Northwestern Memorial Hospital in Chicago in 2002 after I had an allergic reaction to medicine. When my heart began pounding, I didn’t know if it was because of the allergic reaction or because of his intoxicating charms. And then there was also the resident who I met when I was 13 and in the hospital for my brain surgery. I needed an MRI and remember being scared and anxious. He stayed with me during the entire procedure, and, well, needless to say, my fears quickly fell away.

Now, like I said, the psychological reason behind my love is pretty obvious. This is all a typical case of transference. After all, it doesn’t take Freud to figure out what all these medical residents have symbolized to me over the years. They were the big, bad superheros with the medical know-how and gadgets to fix everything and make it all better; sometimes, I even imagined their lab coats were their capes that blew in the wind behind them as they hurriedly marched down those hospital corridors with the utmost sense of purpose. I saw them in this soothing, caretaker role and couldn’t help but marvel at their gentleness and genuineness — people bright-eyed and yet to be jaded from the stress that comes with years of practicing medicine.

Plus, let’s not discount their sexy brains, which is what really got me in the end. They attracted me faster than an ant to a Snickers bar on a hot summer day, and I wanted to bottle up all that hot, sexy brain essence and save it for a rainy day.

Looking back, I suppose I have a lot to thank those medical residents for. They swooped in right when I needed them, superhero capes and all, and helped me get through some of the toughest times in my life. And here’s to the doctors of tomorrow — stay smart for me and never forget the importance of a calming bedside manner! xoxo

P.S. Oh, and don’t even get me started on my deep, deep love for the men on Grey’s Anatomy. Combine my love of fictional characters with the fact that these fictional characters are doctors, and, well, just watch my heart explode like a stick of dynamite! Owen! Sloan! Karev! Avery! BE STILL MY HEART!!! 🙂

[Photos via We Heart It]

Dear American Idol: Four Reasons I’m Perfect For The Final Season

Let’s just get the obvious out of the way first: You all have been working pretty hard — I’m especially looking at you, Ryan Seacrest. For some 13 years, you’ve brought fun and music into living rooms all across America and launched the careers of some of the finest untapped talent this generation has ever seen. You had a few off years, sure, but haven’t we all? That’s life and entertainment — we can’t always be perfect.

But there is one thing that transcends all these missteps and foibles over the years. It’s the most surefire way to go out with a bang. To go out on a high note, if you will — pun intended. My idea? It’s not so much a strategy as it is a person. One specific person, actually. This person would bring in ratings galore, would leave the crowds speechless and, dare I say it, even leave old Simon Cowell blushing should he make an appearance in one of his classic white shirts.

Are you ready for my revolutionary idea? Umm, you might want to sit down for this.

Ready?

My idea is, well…ME…

Even though the auditions for the final season have already taken place, I wanted to throw my hat in the ring. You know, on the off chance that you’d be willing to make a tiny little exception. What? No? Just read these four key reasons and you might find yourself singing a different tune (again, pun intended)…

1. I know all the lyrics to an embarrassing number of songs: Power ballads. Show tunes. Taylor Swift. Sometimes I feel like a walking karaoke machine with all these songs rumbling around in my brain. And even better? I’ve been known to spontaneously burst into song at any time — and sing said song from beginning to end. Call it a talent if you’d like; I just call it passion.


2. I have a semi-talent for singing: Not to toot my own horn or anything, but my vocal cords are pretty adept when it comes to carrying a tune. Granted, I don’t possess the powerhouse pipes of a certain Carrie Underwood or the sassy attitude of one Kelly Clarkson, but I do sing with a whole lot of gusto and passion, so I figure that has to count for something, right? At the very least, I’m a lot better than some of those rag tags I’ve seen come through the audition room. Again, I’m not trying to be overly boastful here, but it is the truth.


3. I’ll bring diversity to the competition: I hate to use my disability in this way, but let’s be real for a hot minute — you’ve never ready featured singers with disabilities. Why? I’ve always wondered that since I’m quite sure there are many of us out there. Don’t you think it’s time to give us a chance? Why not start with me? I’d be more than willing to be the representative sample.

4. I’m somewhat of a super fan: Here’s where I’m really hoping to sell you on my idea. I’ve watched every season, own multiple albums and, obviously, know all the words to Carrie Underwood biggest hits. I’ve lived and breathed this show over the years, which I think puts me in the perfect position to sell it to the rest of America. They deserve to experience the spectacle, the fanfare, the gorgeously coiffed hair of Jennifer Lopez. I can deliver that to the people. But most importantly, I want to. I would most definitely consider it an honor.

So, American Idol execs, if you’re reading this, I do hope you’ll at least consider my proposal. I’ve drafted it with the utmost love and admiration for a show that has meant so much to me for more than a decade. Best of luck to you on the final season and thank you for the memorable television.

In Defense of ‘Being Boring’

In a world of exotic flavors, I’m what you’d call pretty vanilla. I’d choose a Friday night of Netflix over an evening out on the town. I prefer to keep my lunch menu pretty simple and consistent — usually a PB&J or ham sandwich. And only recently did I get my first new hairstyle since the late ’80s.

Like I said, some may consider me a Boring Betty. Go ahead, you can call me that if you’d like; I mean, after all, it’s nothing I haven’t heard before…

But here’s the thing: I’m perfectly OK with that. Really, really OK. Dare I even say…I’m actually happy with my supposedly ‘boring‘ life.

Allow me to explain.

I’ve long heard the chants from the Anti-Boring Camp. Now, I don’t begrudge them their lifestyle, of course, but wow! They sure are busy people — always running here or doing this or scheduling that. I often picture the old Batman TV show, where those action bubbles pop up on the screen during the nail-biting fight scenes.

POW. BOOM. ZAP.

Something is always going on, which is fine for some people. That’s just how they are, how they operate — maybe it’s built into their personality or DNA somehow?

I’ve never been like that, though. Well, at least not by choice, anyway. My life is decidedly smooth and steady — two adjectives that, I’ll admit, don’t exactly scream a “party-hopping, cruise-ship-boarding, paint-the-town-red” lifestyle. And, honestly, there was a time when I found myself being my own worst critic about it all. Am I doing something wrong? Has my “invitation” get lost in the mail? Have I misplaced my metaphorical dancing shoes?

I didn’t really know the answer to those questions. At least not right at first, anyway. It took awhile for it all to sink in, but I eventually realized that it all had to do with the grand scheme of timing. For the first 20 years of my life, everything was one busy activity after another. My life was consumed by medical stuff, and as I’m sure lots of you know, all that medical stuff can get really exhausting really quickly. I rarely felt like I had any time to catch my breath.

So it’s almost as if Adult Me is ready for some not-so-busy adventures. At long last. It’s SO refreshing to feel like I can finally wipe the calendar clean and sort of start over with a new chapter — one that I have more of a hand in writing and directing.

Besides, if you think about it, what’s really so wrong with ‘boring’? We tend to view the term in a very negative way. We may see people we perceive as boring and also think they’re unfulfilled in life or are feeling dissatisfied in some way. So we may pity them, as in, “Oh, they lead such a boring life. How sad.” Other times, we use their life as a cautionary tale, like, “Yikes! I mustn’t let that happen to me. That cannot be my downfall.” A boring life doesn’t mean a life completely devoid of fun and excitement, you know?

I encourage you to embrace your boring side. It’s not something to be ashamed of or something you desperately need to hide. If it’s your lifestyle of choice, own it proudly! At the very least, I urge you to be at one with it. Don’t be afraid and don’t try to run away from it. It’s not some monster under your bed and it’s must definitely NOT going to hurt you. I promise.

Are you comfortable being boring, friends? Or do you prefer to keep busy with lots of activities? Let’s chat, shall we? xoxo

[Photos via We Heart It]