I Survived Wedgemount Lake
Hike 1 | Monday wasn’t an auspicious day or an anniversary of any kind – it was just the day I decided that I would complete 40 hikes over the next 16 months. For the last nearly five years I have struggled with my health. I have dealt with depression, exhaustion, and digestive issues that have left me feeling powerless over my body. As a result, I decided to make a goal that allowed me to have some control over my physical wellbeing (and as a by-product, my mental wellbeing also).
Hike #1 | 1200m Elevation Gain | 12+km Hiked
Monday wasn’t an auspicious day or an anniversary of any kind – it was just the day I decided that I would complete 40 hikes over the next 16 months. For the last nearly five years I have struggled with my health; experiencing depression, exhaustion, and digestive issues that left me feeling powerless over my body. I have been poked and prodded and have given so much blood that I was starting to know the clinicians by name. Temporary diagnoses have ranged from Chronic Fatigue to PTSD (with many in between), but the biggest problem always remained; without a definitive cause there's no cure. I have tried medications; anti-depressants designed to give me more energy, monthly shots that cost as much as my rent, and so many supplements that I probably could have paid off my student loan. I have seen doctors, specialists, psychiatrists, psychologists, naturopaths, massage therapists, Chinese Medicine Doctors, and more. And while they are all incredible people who do incredible things – I still don’t have much in the way of answers. As a result, I decided to make a goal that allowed me to have some control over my physical wellbeing (and as a by-product, my mental wellbeing also).
The hike to Wedgemount Lake - arbitrarily chosen as my first of forty - is unrelentingly steep as you reach nearly 1200 meters in elevation over only 6 kilometers. Stu came off of a night shift and we immediately packed up and set out. I truly admire that he can work for 36 hours and still be motivated to get outside – as well as calmly deal with black flies while bandaging my blisters. Hiking straight up in the trees, it was hard to feel like we were making progress, but when we caught views of stunningly tall waterfalls or walked out of the forest into massive talus fields it was easy to feel the success of our (slow) efforts. The trail did flatten out for a small section – and if it wasn’t for Stu moving me along (both on the up and the down), I might still be pacing back and forth there now.
TRAIL MIX
gluten-free pretzels
almonds
pepitas (pumpkin seeds)
dried cranberries
cacao nibs
Since we were hiking up on a Monday we passed a lot of weekend traffic that had been camping overnight. Any time we passed someone on the trails before about roughly the ¾ mark they smiled and said hi – and that was all. But as we got closer to the top people were generous in their encouragement, telling us that we were anywhere from 15 – 30 minutes from the lake. One group of guys told Stu that we were only 10 minutes from the top, then looked at my exhausted and dirty face and amended it to “well, depending on how fast you’re moving.”
Cresting the final section and catching the first glimpse of the almost unnatural blue of the glacier-fed lake took away all the pain in my legs. Attaining that goal at the top is not unlike the flashing light they used on Men in Black – or those wild hormones that make women forget the horror of childbirth. Hiking, like childbirth, is definitely Type 2 fun. It’s not fun while you’re doing it, but you’re (mostly) happy you did it in the end. As soon as we stood out on the exposed rock and looked around at the mountain tops, my memory of the last three-and-a-half hours was gone. I had just finished swearing off the stupid goal of doing 40 hikes in the next 16 months – but there I was, in love with the idea all over again.
We found a spot to picnic by the lake. In June, I was diagnosed with SIBO (Small Intestinal Bacterial Overgrowth). The treatment - which has nearly ended all of my digestive issues - includes a very restricted diet. One of the challenges is that much of what I can’t eat – garlic, onions, gluten, sugar, dairy, etc. – are all present in prepackaged freeze-dried backpacking meals. Since I have a few multi-day trips coming up this summer and fall, I’ve started experimenting with making my own meals and we used our day hike as a test for a Pad Thai recipe I've adapted (details below). You can’t test these meal in your own kitchen, because no matter how good they are, they always need to be garnished with a side of exhaustion and mild starvation to really bring out the subtle flavour blends.
PAD THAI
4 oz Flat Rice Noodles
2 Tbsp Coconut Oil
1/2 Tsp Crushed Red Pepper Flakes
1/4 Tsp Ginger Powder
2 Tbsp Honey
2 Tbsp Tamari
2 Tbsp Peanut Butter Powder
2 Tbsp Lime Juice
4 oz Dehydrated Tofu
1/2 Cup Shredded Carrots Dehydrated
1 Tbsp Dried Cilantro
1/4 Cup Chopped Roasted Unsalted Peanuts
I adapted this recipe from here. Since we were just doing a day hike I mixed up the sauce before we left and put them in reusable silicone containers that we have for camping condiments. I also found some single-use packets of coconut oil at Trader Joe's and used those for convenience. I dehydrated my own carrots, cilantro, and tofu in my oven (more info here).
We added boiling water directly to the Ziploc freezer bags that had our food in them and let them sit for about five minutes (until the noodles were soft), then drained off any excess water and added the sauce and chopped peanuts.
The tofu was the only not so great variable of the meal - it came out really chewy. I think adding it directly to the boiling water would have been a better option for rehydrating it.
After a little time enjoying the ambiance of our lunch spot, we headed out – aware that it was late in the day and we wanted to be back to the truck before dark. As we hiked down the first section I was excited to tell the few people we passed that they were near the top. But when we passed a couple over half way down who had full packs and were intending to camp overnight I only smiled as I quickly realized that there simply was nothing encouraging to say. “The trial is exactly like this for the next two hours,” just doesn’t cut it. They were deep in the Type 2 fun.
Days later my legs still hurt. They are so stiff and painful that I tend to just speed while driving now because moving my foot to the brake really requires effort – and I have seriously considered purchasing one of those adaptors that elderly people use to make their toilets taller. But after living with a body full of problems that don’t seem to have causes or solutions, this kind of earned pain feels like success (except for when I have to step off a curb). This hike was about remembering that not all pain in my body needs my attention. The rub on my heal that created a blister needed my attention because it was something we could fix. But the ache in my legs on the hike down was just something that I had to get through to complete my goal. So much of hiking and being outdoors is about making peace with being uncomfortable. A lesson that may eliviate some stress in my day-to-day life as well.
Having It All: Love (or 25 Ways to Trick a Man Into Marrying You)
Helen’s version of love – what sweet hell have we climbed into. This version of love depends heavily on playing pretend, sleeping with married men, putting down other women, working your Kegels while watching sports, avoiding "homosexuals", and rating breeds of tigers.
Helen’s version of love – what sweet hell have we climbed into? This version of love depends heavily on playing pretend, sleeping with married men, putting down other women, working your Kegels while watching sports, avoiding "homosexuals", and rating breeds of tigers. It's so hard to find a Valentine's Day card that encompasses this vision of true love in today's day and age. Clearly, we have been led astray by those pesky feminists (although if it weren't for them we never would have won back crab. . . more on that in just a minute.)
How to make a man fall in love with you:
1. Be on time. Women rarely are.
2. Compliment him a lot. You almost can’t overdo it. . .
3. Rave about his brain. “What a brilliant idea!”
4. Pay attention to what he drinks and learn to mix it flawlessly. . .
5. Learn how to light his cigar – like Gigi.
6. Research any projects he’s interested in. Helping him in his work is a nearly foolproof way to ingratiate yourself.
7. Listen. Don’t talk too much. No matter how often he says “Tell men about you,” don’t go overboard.
8. Research his life totally. . . from what he says, by talking to his friends, family, coworkers. Read anything written about him.
9. Whatever he tells you one day, remember to ask him about it the next. Make written notes after you see him if you need them to remember – people in his life, organizations belonged to, products made by his company.
10. Never telephone just to chat. . . We’ve come a long way with equality. . . you have the tickets, you ask him, you have the Dungeness crab, you invite him, but random telephoning is still left to him if you’re crazy about the man.
11. Be selective about what you tell him. . . Only dumb people equate intimacy with openness.
12. Be wonderful to his friends. . . Try not to see the ones you hate too much, but even them you have to be nice to.
13. [Remember] his children are going to be a part of his life forever. . . Let’s hope their daddy keeps them from being little brats around you.
14. Enjoy, if you can, the things he introduces you to and wants you to enjoy, leaving out drugs, group sex, gambling parlors, cops raid, cockfighting and a few other aggravation-makers.
15. Be accommodating during courtship.
16. Do whatever he suggests immediately if you can.
17. When he’s away, write sexy notes to reach the hotel when he does or tuck them in his luggage.
18. Take him to or pick him up at the airport.
19. For his homecoming, put gas-filled balloons in his apartment – or yours – with a big gag card; chill the champagne.
20. You must begin to give him presents. . . Just about everything you ever thought a man should do for you, you should do for him. . . if you go a little overboard, pay too much for gifts for him, it isn’t the worst insanity. (Examples of gifts to give: a traveling Water-Pik, staple remover, and anything monogrammed.)
21. Role playing contributes to sensuousness. . . I think the father/daughter relationship one of the sexiest, present in nearly every love affair in which he’s at least fifteen years older than you. . . Utterly alike in age, interests, ideals. . . like Donny and Marie Osmond, only not brother and sister. . . that has its charms.
22. [Be crazy.] Crazy ladies love better than uncrazy ones. Your virulent anxiety about him somehow produces the purest kind of sexuality. . . You’re on edge, hungry, a Bengal tiger (the best kind!) when you get to bed.
23. [Don't speak your mind.] Despite everybody pushing you to have “open and honest relationships,” and despite your own mouseburger inclinations to be direct, I think forever blabbing what’s on your mind is only for securely married people who can’t/don’t leave each other easily.
24. Tell him, “You’ve had such a profound influence on my life,” “You’ve changed my life,” “You’ve taught me so much.”
25. [Just hang in.] You must operate from strength. Strength comes from quietly hanging in.
Actress Leslie Caron lights a cigar in the movie Gigi.
“You Xerox the article about him from the trade paper and speech. . . could you listen to it one more time and play it for your father? That terrific letter he wrote to Consolidated Freightways about their new forklifts. . . could you have a copy? Snapshots of him at tennis, squash, salmon fishing, in a bathrobe and in tales are Scotch Taped to your mirror to the point you can hardly get your mascara on.”
Now just to be clear Helen says, “Do not scare him. You can be attentive, flattering, adorable. . . Do all the things just suggested but not be sexually heavy.” So you can ask his friends for information about him, tape so many photos of him to your mirror that you can’t see yourself, play tapes of him speaking for your friends and family, photocopy stories about him in the paper and send them to your friends, fill your apartment with helium balloons when he returns from a work trip, pretend to be his daughter for sexual purposes, but – and this is a big but – do not, whatever you do, invite him away for a weekend. A four-hour hookup mid-day, however, is okay. Oh, and definitely don’t call him just to say hi. Guys don’t like that.
If you find yourself feeling down about not how the feminist movement didn't win you the right to pick up the phone - rejoice in knowing that, according to Helen, it did win us the right to eat crustaceans. After all, that's what it was all about right from the beginning, right?
The Duchess of Cambridge is certainly happy that women won the right to eat crab.
For those who consider this advice to be manipulative drivel, Helen says, “Oh, come off it! Your honor is not going to be compromised and these are not cheap tricks; they are endearing and they work.” Men find it super endearing when you make notes on what to talk to them about, pretend to like their friends, their interests, and their bratty kids, or tell them how much they’ve changed your life on the third date.
Here are some real-life examples of how faking it - I mean, falling in love - works! “A young friend of mine tightened her vaginal muscles throughout two entire football and three basketball seasons. “It was the only muscle tone I had during that period,” said Millie, “but all that contracting got me through the games. . . ”” Helen advises that it’s okay if your “[fake] interests wane” after marriage (read: you stop pretending to be someone else). “I distinctly remember telling David Brown I didn’t care if he went out with other women. . . Nothing could have been more untrue but I didn’t want to terrify him. . . All this stuff is okay to say – You are accommodating during courtship, and the gesture does not have to be totally sincere . . .” How could all this lying, I mean, being accommodating, cause any problems after you’re married? Sounds like Helen was on to something here!
“Any woman can have a man, we know that – if not a great man, then at least an okay one. After forty, you must look (work!) harder to find one; after fifty, you must look (work!) really hard for male companionship. Between the ages of twenty and forty you don’t have to do very much unless you want a special and outstanding man (kind, successful, attractive, faithful, solvent, amusing, etc.) – then you have to “work” as hard as the forty – or fifty-year-old woman has to to get anybody.”
So now you know what to do to make someone fall in love with you, but how do you meet that someone? Helen has a list of recommended places to meet men that include:
· The library – ask “Am I in the medieval history room?”
· Tiffany’s at Christmas – Filled with men shoppers.
· Brooks Brothers or any other establishment-type men’s store. (Bloomingdale’s or other chic emporiums may attract more homosexual men than you need.)
· Take classes men attend – Power boating, stock-market analysis, business courses; stay clear of “Understanding Your Psyche” or other female-oriented subjects.
· Alcoholics Anonymous – Excellent! Go as a visitor.
Tiffany’s at Christmas? But wouldn't that just be all men who are shopping for their wives and girlfriends. . . oh, wait, that's the point. I believe that's what my friend refers too as predatory. On the topic of avoiding Bloomingdales, exactly how many homosexual men are too many for one woman to ‘need’? And well, you just know that any group that functions on anonymity loves a visitor who’s trying to pick up. Well done Helen, but perhaps you and your wine and egg diet would have been better off simply attending an AA meeting as a member.
Me, shopping for men at Tiffany's, but actually way more into my pastry.
Shall we talk about dating married men? Why not. Helen loves the subject. “I don’t see how a single girl can survive without an occasional married man – to fill in the gaps, stave off hunger during lean days. Many people (especially married women!) feel married men are off limits totally, for moral reasons (you ought not to confiscate somebody else’s property) and practical ones (he can never see you Saturday night, goes home, even on Tuesday, right after dinner – or before).
True, true, true, but to me, avoiding married men totally when you’re single would be like passing up first aid in a Tijuana hospital when you’re bleeding to death because you prefer an immaculate American hospital some unreachable distance across the border.” Uh, no. Not sleeping with a married man would be more like passing up first aid in a Tijuana hospital because you’re capable (and self-respecting) enough to stitch yourself up so that you can avoid infections. . . of any kind. Here is Helen’s list of reasons why should date married men:
a. When you’re single, it’s important to have heterosexual male companionship.
b. All the connecting doesn’t have to be with someone you could marry.
c. You should not go without sex too long.
d. Married men need you and are some of the horniest, appreciatingest, lovingest, most accomplished of our men sexually, and are there during a drought.
e. You can “use” them selectively, to sleep with if you’re needy or just have dinner with if you’re lonely.
Side note: using words like ‘appreciatingest’ and ‘lovingest’ are not the first instances of Helen making up words. Her editor should be (have been) shot – or at the very least fired and not allowed to use words for the rest of his or her life.
Of course, all of this home-wrecking comes with a warning, “They also continue to sleep with their wives.” No kidding? Well, that’s certainly a surprise! Who would have thought? It’s a good thing that everyone was using protection in the ‘80s.
“What about her?” Helen asks about the wife in these extramarital affairs. “I never worried about her. She’s got a problem but you aren’t it. A cheating husband will cheat with somebody – you are not that special.” And I guess a rabid dog is going to bite someone, so it might as well be you. “Don’t put down his ex-wife or present wife or even the girls he admires, except in the most teasing way. Strong people say good things about weaklings, and if you should say good things about his wife or ex-wife, you have more of a chance of “weakening” her than if you attack; criticism only shows insecurity. Of course, if somebody is a real bitch you can say, “My word – that woman is really something,” but you do it like Madame de Staël commenting on a servant girl or the ingénue observing some pitiful virago of an older woman.” Wow.
Helen and the husband she 'tricked' into marrying her. That said, they were married for over 50 years (until David's death). . . maybe we should be listening to her.
How does Helen back up her assertions that women must be constantly looking over their shoulders for women just like her trying to steal their men? With science and facts obviously. “The latest U.S. Census reveals that, between the ages of thirty-five and thirty-nine, there are 13,000 women for every 10,000 men. Between the ages of twenty-five and forty-nine, women outnumber men by 1,250,000. These figures don’t reflect drug addicts, alcoholics, men locked up in jail, the homosexual population (four million acknowledged but 15 percent of total male population show “tendencies”), none of whom do us much good as love partners, so the reality is even worse than the statistics. Bottom line: There are too many of us, too few of them, and of the possibilities, only a few will really interest you.” But how many of us are into girls, Helen? Actually, I think that women can breathe a huge sigh of relief because according to a 2010 U.S. Census there were 96.7 men for every 100 women. But still, that's 3.3 women who won't have a man. Helen says that when you find one, "if he’s good (a lovely, sexually attractive man, also attractive to other women), you have to be better [than him and other women].” I mean, if you want to catch him, keep him, and, I assume, devour his flesh.
Now that Helen has made it clear that there aren’t enough men to go around and that all the other women are after your man, how do you deal with insecurities? Just remind yourself that “You manage to keep him because you’re okay. Your brain is okay; your looks are okay. You have a warm and pretty body – pretty enough anyway – and if the time comes when you need to get another man, my darling, you can and will.” Yep, that will get you through some cold, lonely, winter nights.
Don’t forget, “Mostly, men are rottener to women in love than women are to men,” but, “Just because men are frequently irresponsible and behave detestably does not mean they cannot love deeply.” And with that, go forth and fall in love because up next is the chapter on marriage.
Have you missed a chapter on having it all? Click here to catch up!
Having It All: Sex (Part Two)
“Should you ever compromise and do something to him, or let him do something to you that makes you feel, well, yucky? No, of course, you shouldn’t.” When I read those two sentences, I thought, ‘Yes! Finally, Helen. Now I see why some people call you a feminist.’ But I should have held my reaction for just a split second longer.
Welcome to Part 2 of Helen Gurley Brown’s advice on sex. I made this a two-parter because, well, this part is a bit of a downer. I’ve enjoyed keeping this little experiment of mouseburgering my way to the top on the humorous, eye-rolling, side of things, however, this chapter on sex had a number of sections that made me feel icky. Granted all the chapters so far have had parts that made me feel this way but given the current climate with sexual harassment in the news, these ones hit closer to home. The quotes and advice I’m about to share with you make me feel insert-any-number-of-negative-emotions-here because not only did this woman believe these things and they likely were very true at the time she wrote them, but this woman had control of a magazine, that has shaped the minds of an unfathomable number of young women all over the world, for over thirty years.
“Should you ever compromise and do something to him, or let him do something to you that makes you feel, well, yucky? No, of course, you shouldn’t.” When I read those two sentences, I thought, ‘Yes! Finally, Helen. Now I see why some people call you a feminist.’ But I should have held my reaction for just a split second longer. “And neither should you ever get menstrual cramps, dark circles under your eyes, hives, sunburned or bitten by mosquitoes. Every sexual encounter should be soul-lifting and exquisite, yes, but sex, like life, my dear, is not perfect, and you, Miss Faintheart, may not always be able to squirm out of a sexual situation just because it’s making you feel a little queasy!” Essentially, she is saying that you must step-up and do that thing, have that sex, sleep with that man you don’t want to. “Perhaps a man you adore as a friend or someone you owe a lot to is simply terrible in bed. . . that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t sleep with him.” You’re supposed to have sex with someone who you don’t want to because you owe him? “Perhaps a man with marvelous “credentials” – he’s glamorous, famous, exciting, takes you fabulous places – is also an indifferent bedmate. Well, maybe Jackie Onassis could say goodnight at the door, but not you. . . Sex is part of your package.” Excuse me? “Maybe you like the man sexually, but don’t care for certain things he likes to do. If you mostly enjoy yourself in bed, not being turned on some of the time or even turned off isn’t going to hurt you. It hasn’t killed me yet, anyway.” I don’t think I need to point out how horrific that last line is. She’s not talking about ‘that thing you only do for your husband on birthdays and holidays,’ she’s talking about what you need to do impress and keep a man. Helen also preached that ““sensible” before-the-act conversation about what you like and what he likes is a passion killer. I wouldn’t.” That might explain why she found herself in the middle of so many acts that made her feel “yucky.”
What do you do when he wants to have sex and you don’t? “Do it anyway. No, it isn’t bad for your health or, I think, even bad for your psyche. . . you’ll probably get in the mood enough so that you won’t “suffer.”” Helen goes on to remind us to pretend to be turned on, even when we aren’t because it’s sexier for him. Well, you’ll get that message if you can follow her awkward beaver analogy. “Somebody working away at you like beavers building their dam – slap, slap, pat, pat, paddle, paddle – is friendly (and gets an E for effort) but if that somebody is squish-mushy himself, is he nearly as satisfactory to you in bed as a man fully aroused? Of course not! Conversely, being hot yourself simply makes you better at what you’re doing to him. One is not always hot, of course, and you can be “good” – make him happy – even though not turned on yourself (otherwise, prostitutes would not be so well paid.)”
Now it was only a few years ago when Amy Poehler outraged people when she wrote in her biography, “You have to have sex with your husband occasionally, even though you're exhausted. Sorry." She referred to it as maintenance sex. I don’t find what Amy wrote offensive because she’s not talking about getting into bed with some dude because you owe him, she’s not implying that your value to your husbands is based on having sex, and she’s certainly not suggesting that you do anything you don’t want to. She’s just saying that sometimes you’re going to go to be exhausted with your life partner and instead of rolling over and going to sleep, it might be healthier for your relationship if you roll the other way and have healthy, happy, and consensual sex.
All this ‘do it anyway talk’ of Helen’s makes the most sense when you pair it with her section on saying no. “I’ve always thought a pass more of a compliment than a put-down, no matter who is making it. Also, since we’re sexually wooing men some of the time now, what is there to be so sanctimonious about?” As Helen sees it, because it was finally socially acceptable for a woman to ask a man out, they had nothing to complain about when someone “comes at you for the squeeze, the grab, the kiss, who ought not to.” So, “What to do?” she asks. “There is no better way than just to be cool. Don’t squirm. Don’t thrash about. That’s what I wrote in Sex and the Single Girl twenty years ago, and defensive tactics haven’t changed. A wildcat will turn him on; a cool, unresponsive girl will calm him down. . .” Another option, in my opinion, is a knee to the crotch. It will have the same calming effect and will communicate how you’re feeling. “Well, if we had to take all the rebuffs a man takes to his sexy ideas and to his hands, mouth, penis, we might never leave the house in the morning. I really do admire their courage. Say No thank you in the nicest way. Lie, if you will, but be ever so gentle and kind, even to the creeps.” Just remember that ladies; we need to be nice even to the biggest creeps because someone may have already turned them down.
Helen quotes the late Helen Lawrenson book as an example of female behavior she simply doesn’t understand. The passage of Lawrenson’s book Whistling Girl reads, “I was lying on my back with him kneeling over me when suddenly, with no warning, he thrust himself into my mouth. I thought he was going straight down my through and I was in utter panic, as well as gagging. I lay there paralyzed, my eyes shut tight and I was, of course, unable to speak. Finally, I managed to wriggle out from under, scurry into the bathroom and throw up.” What does our Helen think about this? “What an odd reaction!” Running away from someone who has forced a sexual act on you without your consent is apparently a strange way to behave. Likely in Helen’s mind, you should have stayed around long enough to compliment and thank him.
Now, I could forgive all of this by thinking that Helen simply didn’t know any better. The same way that other antiquated ideas are passed along generation to generation. It’s not out of malice, it’s just because that’s how things were. But the problem with that is that Helen has made it clear repeatedly throughout her book that she doesn’t really like other women. She sees them as her enemy. “Enlightened as your rivals may be, do you suppose there’s any comparison between you in bed with your need to please, your craving for affection, your passion, energy and well, drive, and other women in their, narrow or fat little beds?” And in case that wasn’t clear enough, here’s another – “You know how talking to 60 percent of people you talk to is boring even though they know plenty of words and can put sentences together. Well, for the men of the world, so is going to bed with at least 60 percent – possibly a higher percentage than that – of the women in the world boring. Those women don’t talk like you or care like you or try like you; in a word, they don’t make love like you.” Helen wants it to be clear that you are competing with other women, she herself has been competing with other women her whole life for men’s affection. “I began to discover, around age nineteen, that being wanted “that way” gave a girl a kind of power over men, that though most girls were prettier than I, they could not and did not necessarily get men more turned on. Perhaps my “rivals” kept themselves more in check.” In the section where she discusses ‘C--- Power’ she talks about wives being the rivals of single women, “Okay, perhaps you, a single girl, wonder why the man doesn’t leave his wife and marry you since you have this terrific attribute.” That terrific attribute is what she calls ‘C--- Power.’ Not only is she the mother of his children, Helen explains, but “don’t forget that his wife, your rival, may have supported him emotionally through the bad times and he has some sense of loyalty though you don’t want to hear about it!” Of course, a sense of loyalty is the only thing that would be holding a marriage together. “Both kinds of power are rewarding – power always is – but of the two, I prefer ours.” Helen may sound like she’s on our side here, but Helen is on her own side. And that’s what makes her words so malicious.
The whole book is built on exploiting other women’s insecurities – insecurities that she was so familiar with because they were also her own. So much of the book is humorous nowadays because we have moved (read: ran) away from it. There is so much distance between us now and her thinking then, that it is laughable. But if all the recent news about in the media tells us anything, it’s that this subject isn’t that far behind us. The perpetrator here is subtle; we aren’t being stared down by an obvious aggressor, there isn’t a naked man blocking the door and holding our safety, our career, or our futures in one hand and unwanted sex in the other. Instead, we have a woman who uses conspiratorial language to let us know that she is on our side, that she is helping us.
In this chapter Helen also tells us about her ill-fated adventure in being a kept woman. “I was kept once for about six months. He was a rich New York banker – the quintessential WASP (talk about hating Jews – this man could have given Hitler pep talks), old (forty-seven!), and married.” She had seen this a money-making opportunity. He set her up in her own apartment, bought her clothes, and gave her a job (she was his secretary). Eventually he got bored of her – and maybe annoyed with her asking for more and more money and dropped her by taking his wife to Europe. “It’s a good thing my little arrangement didn’t work. . . because otherwise the rest of my life wouldn’t have happened to me. I wouldn’t have married David; he wouldn’t have helped me write a book; you and I wouldn’t be together now.” When I read this, all I could think was, ‘I wonder how much healthier we all may be right now if it had worked out for her.’ The only thing scarier than the fact that so many women took her advice when this book came out, is that there are still people buying it and positively reviewing it on Amazon!
“A fantastic guide to life! This book is incredible. Reading this book was like talking to my hip girlfriend. [Helen] writes about finding your path in life. This book is filled with good, solid common sense advice. This is one of those books that you will refer to time and time again!”
The Bakery: Revelling in the Joy of Our Anarchy
I recently had the opportunity to help with promoting The Moment - a documentary about the history of freeride. Most of the people I reached out to were thrilled with the idea of the film and with having a showing in their town, but a few of the responses I received back surprised me.
I recently had the opportunity to help with promoting The Moment - a documentary about the history of freeride. Most of the people I reached out to were thrilled with the idea of the film and with having a showing in their town, but a few of the responses I received back surprised me.
"Does the film reconcile or reflect on the change in times or does it revel in the joy of anarchy?"
This question wrapped up a larger message of concern about "weed talk," rogue riding culture, and the lack of marketability the film would have to an all-ages audience. Another response I received was in respect to taming down mountain biking's extreme image.
"I'm trying to promote mountain biking to women and I'm not a huge fan of promoting the gnarly stuff like Rampage and freeriding because I think it scares a lot of people away from the sport."
Don't get me wrong, at the heart of both of these examples are genuine issues that people are considering. This is a time of hypersensitivity around illegal trail building in some places and I do understand that the mainstream media version of mountain biking may not be truly representative of what is available in the sport to everyone. But since when does that mean we shouldn't celebrate our history or that we should leave out the bits that are inconvenient to our current (or sometimes individual) concerns?
Having It All: Sex (Part One)
“Sex can be . . . the most sinus-clearing, mind-blowing, intoxicating, illuminating, exhilarating experience in the world, don’t you agree?” Um, I’ll have what she’s having. Hold on to your panties, because useful or not, Helen is going to dish out her special brand of wisdom (the uninformed kind). “Why would one even try to add to the sexual lore we don’t need any more of?” Good question. We already have volumes published on sex, like the Kama Sutra and The Joy of Sex. Having It All will surely sit on the shelf right next to those timeless classics. “Ego! Pure ego. I want you to know my thoughts on this most fascinating of all subjects. I’m not even going to offer hints from other men or women who might know something more than I, because I’m not sure you can mix sex advice. . . No, this sex-sagery is mine.” You should note, right here, right now, that she shares other people’s advice throughout this chapter. I feel as though her editor should have been fired. Who am I kidding, her editor should have been fired chapters ago for allowing Helen to abuse italics as much as she does.
A scene from the movie Sex and the Single Girl, based on Helen's first book.
When I started reading this chapter on sex, I thought that I might learn a thing or two, that I might pull out some 1983 tricks, say, on a #throwback Thursday night or, if I was feeling extra sassy, on a #flashback Friday. Sadly, and much to my boyfriend’s disappointment, Helen’s knowledge – while likely cutting edge in her day – is actually a little lacking. Her presentation of this information, however, is what made the lengthy read worthwhile. Where else would I find out that I am supposed to hug with my pelvis, that I have C--- power (her words), and that an orgasm is like telling a lovely host “thank you for a nice dinner.” Some of the advice in this chapter fell squarely into the hilarious pile – that is what I have for you here. The other, which added to the mountain of bizarre and what-the-actual-fuck content will be published next week.
“Sex can be . . . the most sinus-clearing, mind-blowing, intoxicating, illuminating, exhilarating experience in the world, don’t you agree?” Um, I’ll have what she’s having. Hold on to your panties, because useful or not, Helen is going to dish out her special brand of wisdom (the uninformed kind). “Why would one even try to add to the sexual lore we don’t need any more of?” Good question. We already have volumes published on sex, like the Kama Sutra and The Joy of Sex. Having It All will surely sit on the shelf right next to those timeless classics. “Ego! Pure ego. I want you to know my thoughts on this most fascinating of all subjects. I’m not even going to offer hints from other men or women who might know something more than I, because I’m not sure you can mix sex advice. . . No, this sex-sagery is mine.” You should note, right here, right now, that she shares other people’s advice throughout this chapter. I feel as though her editor should have been fired. Who am I kidding, her editor should have been fired chapters ago for allowing Helen to abuse italics as much as she does.
“Bed is where you, a mouseburger, are possibly your most content – as well as you're most accomplished. . . Sexual activity is your oxygen. . . lifegiving, peacemaking – everything, from flirtation to being spread-eagled and ravished all night long and not getting any sleep whatever, is important, never mind that orgasm is also pleasurable. . . Incidentally, you will be sexy until the end of your life; you are a mouseburger! The way to do that is never stop f-----g.” Never stop fucking? Talk about walking like you just got off a horse. Ouch.
I want to be fair to Helen. While I have cherry-picked some of the most horrendous (seriously, there is so much I leave out) of what she has to say, there is actually much debate to this day about whether or not she was a feminist. Trying to find an answer for this while reading Having It All is like watching a tennis match between the Williams sisters on fast-forward, let me show you what I mean.
Here are some seemingly sexually liberated feminist-leaning statements that Helen makes in this chapter:
1. “I have been a faithful married woman for many years now, but am grateful for an active sex life long before marriage, from the time I gave (not lost!) my virginity at age twenty.”
2. “Make your own rules about “promiscuity.” I think enlighten selfishness is a good one!”
3. “. . . sex drives differ, so whatever amount of sex is right for you, go!”
4. “Don’t assume just because you’re having sex with a man that you have to (1) fall in love with him; (2) get into a big emotional dither; (3) marry him!”
Now, serving from across the net, sometimes only a few pages or paragraphs apart are these notes from a less enlightened Helen:
1. “You and I may be semi-nymphomaniacal in terms of feeling more content and appreciated in bed than anywhere else.”
2. “. . . at the time, being “picked” was a particular thrill for me – a breakthrough! All my life men had “respected my mind”. . . Somebody wanted me only for my physical self, oh joy!”
3. “When you are very successful in your job, you may discover, to your horror, that many an attractive man doesn’t think of you as a woman now but as a repository of knowledge and influence. Having been used to being a sex object first, a valued worker second, you will either love this switch or hate it. . . I have always hated it!”
Do you see what I’m getting at? This chapter is so contradictory it’s hard to know if we are meant to be sexually liberated and celebrating it – or that, as a mouseburger, we should be looking to men who sexualize us (oh, happy day!) to find our confidence. Regardless of where your goals lie (and I suppose that at the heart of feminism is our ability to choose our own goals) we will trudge on through the masturbation (which you must hide), the fake orgasms (which are only polite), and the morning after breakfasts (which you must offer him).
Shall we get down to it? “. . . let’s say you’re not climaxing with a man and would like to.”
1. Learn to masturbate alone and get used to the feeling of having orgasms.
2. Change partners. . . Sometimes it is his fault.
3. Have an orgasm with a man any way you can, not necessarily when he’s in you. Bravely try to show him what you want him to do.
A note on going solo from Helen, “if you masturbate instead of making love to a man when you can, you may just have gotten lazy and scared of men.” Netflix and chill with no one talking during the movie? Sign me up! “Men usually don’t like to think about your masturbating – like you should save everything for them. Don’t tell!” However, masturbation apparently comes in quite handy when it comes to faking - “a woman can pretend the “display,” then later, alone, really finish everything (masturbate); nobody has to know at the time you didn’t “make good.”" And faking is just about manners – did I read that in Emily Post once? “. . . an orgasm is a way of saying you enjoyed yourself, even as you compliment a host on a wonderful spinach quiche.”
“If you basically like your breasts, hips, hair, pelvis and tummy, the sap will probably flow and, no other hang-ups pressing, you’ll have an orgasm.” Right, all those mouseburger parts she just spent the last six chapters tearing apart like a starving-Calvin-Klein-wearing wolf. “Your body proportions have nothing whatever to do with orgasm, of course – we know – that. We also know you’re supposed to love yourself even if you’re a toad.” Damn. That’s cold. Ribbit. “Well, one thing that makes me feel desirous and desirable is having a flat stomach. I can’t even have an orgasm if I look down and see my stomach all pooched out.” I’ve been proving that one wrong for years. Sorry, Helen!
“Many women over thirty-five are inclined to slack off sexually because they don’t practice. . . as you go through the years, it is vital that you keep active sexually if you want not to start getting brittle, prissy, gray and defeminized. . . sex with a man is what keeps you womanly. Find someone and keep on.” I’m certainly glad this is also a myth. I’m guessing my boyfriend is too. And apparently, when we get to 40, orgasms go the way of the dodo. Under a subsection called ‘The More Sex You Have, the More You Can “Tolerate” and Will Want’ Helen advises us that “When you get to forty or fifty you may have to “go for the orgasm” at the start of each lovemaking session,” can we just all pause and picture Elmer Fudd hunting rascally orgasms here? “And when you do decide, then be gutsy – ask for what you need (with body language)” – heaven forbid you should verbalize it – “and do yourself what is needed.” Desperate times call for desperate measures ladies. Unfortunately, I can’t yet debunk this myth, but fingers crossed (that it won't be my legs that are)!
“Yes, seeing him lying there soft as a melting popsicle with taut and eager you at his side is a little discouraging, but if he wants you to rouse him by playing with him, why not? An orgasm reached by your having instigated sex is not less “authentic.””
Onto the penis (not literally, just yet, of course) – “A delicately rosy, silky-satin, somehow innocent, always-vulnerable erect penis is probably the most fascinating object in the world.” As you may have guessed, Helen really likes the ween. “There is nothing like a big (anything over four inches erect), longing-to-be appreciated, grateful for anything you do to it, show-offy, lovely male penis to bring tears to the eyes and joy to the psyche.” Helen lays down the law, size does matter. Sorry boys. “So what do you do about all this perfection? Admire him, of course. Men are so insecure about their priceless possession.”
So, Helen, exactly how should we express this admiration? “Just touch, pat, caress as you feel moved to do so, sort of like you cuddle and caress a puppy or kitty-cat.” Has anyone read Of Mice and Men lately? “These are admiring things to say to a man: “This is the most beautiful one in the world. . . This is the biggest one in the world. . . This is the most adorable (sensitive, incredible, responsive) on in the world. . . I absolutely worship this penis. . . I can’t go too long without it. . . I’m kind of crazylady about this thing. . . I am wild about your pr---, gorgeous!” I shared these compliments with my boyfriend who was sitting next to me on the couch as I was reading this chapter. He winced uncomfortably and actually asked me to stop. When I offered to put them in context – nudge, nudge, wink, wink – for him later, he begged me not to. This advice may not be as effective as one may hope. But please do try it out and let me if you get different results. Possibly I should have tried it post-shower and not while wearing sweatpants and fluffy slippers.
According to Helen, no man should ever leave your company unsatisfied. “These are the rules: Quietly assume when you begin to make love that you are not going to leave the bed (couch, floor or ceiling) until he has had an orgasm. . . The important thing is not to stop doing something until “it” happens. . . some combination of routines – and just plain patience – will work. Don’t give up.” In fact, she refers to herself as a “sort of “never-fail” machine.” Now I’m asking (and Helen is reading my mind), “Why would a woman be propelled to such “selflessness” – always making sure he is orgasmic? Three reasons: One, usually you like or even love the man. Two, one is always proud of a specialty, whether it’s growing African violets or making your own mustard, and you tend to want to improve that specialty. Three, this skill keeps a man glued to you.” I kill plants. Maybe I should try making my own mustard. So, what do you do when you just can’t get a man to completion – and failing is not an option? “Okay, suppose he is practically turning blue and still nothing has happened. His penis may long since have come out of you and you are now “loving him” manually, but even that isn’t getting results. Then gently take his hand and place it on his own penis and encourage him to masturbate. Keep your hand near him; possibly on his testicles; it isn’t that you have abandoned him, but we all know masturbation is the easiest and most “comfortable” way to achieve a climax. . . If you gently indicate that you want him to do this for himself – that you are fascinated and not unpleased with what is happening – you may just get him to do it and the orgasm will come. One has to decide if this “minor humiliation” for both of you (his achieving orgasm on this own) is worse than his leaving your bed frustrated – I think hardly anything is worse than his leaving your bed frustrated.” After surviving this “minor humiliation” of ‘him’ masturbating in front of us, it makes me ever so grateful that Helen believes women should fake an orgasm, finish privately, out of sight and the lie about it. This all sounds very healthy.
After being turned down by Hugh Hefner to create a version of Playboy for a mostly female audience, Helen famously ran this centerfold of a nude Burt Reynolds after becoming the Editor at Cosmo.
Hopefully, you will never end up in this situation because we are now getting to Helen’s tips (just the tips) on how to go down. Did I say Helen’s tips? “I got these rules form a friend who claims to be “the best in the world.” Remember at the beginning when she explicitly said, “I’m not even going to offer hints from other men or women who might know something more than I, because I’m not sure you can mix sex advice. . . No, this sex-sagery is mine”? Riiiiiight. Steps 1 through 10 are pretty much what you’d expect. Paraphrased, they are; open your mouth, use your hands, don’t bite, use your tongue, it won’t work if he’s not hard. A few points that stood out include; “Put more and more of the penis down your throat.” Why does that make me visualize fireman repelling down a well to rescue a stranded child? “Let some saliva run out.” Mmmmm, just like when I’m sleeping. And don’t forget to swallow, “it’s a sign of affection.” But if you’re not in the mood for showing that much affection, she tells us “. . . men rather enjoy seeing what they produce – it is a kind of achievement. Whatever comes out, admire! His very proud of himself.” And don’t forget the stepchildren, “Some men like you to take their balls into your mouth and suck on those. Just try that and see if he likes this. Again, use your lips, not teeth. You don’t have to choose one ball or the other – they just sort of all mush in together.” Men love it when you mush their balls together. As to where to perform this act, “. . . at his desk while he phones (especially his mother). . . at the dinner table during diet time when he hasn’t had dessert for days (of course I’m serious!).”
Under a subsection titled ‘When Your Man Doesn’t Want You in Bed’ Helen explains that it’s probably because he’s tired after getting it on with other women. Well, that certainly puts my mind at ease, how about you? “Possible explanations: he’s “overcommitted” – he may be “servicing” (oh dear, how equine!) a wife and you, and last night was their night to make love. Perhaps there’s another girl or two in his life and you are his new woman; he may actually have been in bed with one of them just before seeing you, and isn’t now what you could call needy!” But don’t worry, old bra-burning Helen evens the playing field. “I think you can be multifriended. . . It seems to me you can certainly accommodate more than one love if neither is classifiable as the man in your life. . . if you’re in love, you may prefer only one man (though my credo was always that total fidelity is only for the married!).”
“You know, of course, how to hug properly – tummies touching lightly – but hugging improperly with bosom and pelvis crushed against him, actually ground into him for a moment, is dynamite!. . . Start from a few feet back with open arms; walk into the man and throw your arms around him.”
Some final down-and-dirty-doing-the-deed-deets “. . . a girl gripped by passion somehow knows what to do with her hands, mouth, toes, knees, etc.!” Am I supposed to be doing something with my knees? As far as I can tell, knees and groins are best kept well apart in the bedroom. At least that seems to be the opinion of most men. Under the header ‘Sometimes Forget Being the Bright, Successful You – Simply Be a Body’ Helen tells us, “Don’t talk too much or show off your brain too much or be too newsy or charming or full of language. Just feel whorish for a change; don’t try for anything else.” Game. Set. Match.
Now, you’ve got all this advice on lockdown, you’re drooling, gagging, and mushing things with your knees while he dials his mother – but what happens when he spends the night? You know what they say freak between the sheets, simply a delight while serving breakfast the next day. . . that’s how it goes, right?
How to Be a Delight the Morning After, When He Stays Over
1. Somehow get the old makeup off – maybe skip out of bed after he is asleep so he won’t see you in it in the morning.
2. When you get up and start moving about, put on something pretty – a peignoir, perhaps.
3. If he wakes first and shakes or touches you, not necessarily to make love, but because he has to leave, try to show a touch of sprightliness.
4. The minute he’s awake and sensible, you must convey that he was wonderful.
5. Never, never convey that you’re sorry.
6. If he wants to continue the sexiness of the night before, okay, but there’s every chance his heart won’t really be in it unless you’re away on a fabulous romantic vacation.
7. It’s best to move the scene away from the bedroom rather soon so he can see you in a different way.
8. Yes, you must offer him breakfast. . . stop figuring that sex, youth and charm are all he’s going to get, or ought to expect from you – a man is affected by your trappings.
9. Do not extract from him a commitment as to when he’ll see you again.
10. Some few men may like making love to a bowl of tapioca, but the affair – if it’s to be that – will probably go better if you don’t seem to have the rest of your life to spend with him in that apartment.
11. Before he leaves, you might want to consider giving him a present. . .
12. Smile when he leaves.
“If you’re spending the night in his apartment, get the hell out the next morning – not abruptly, but don’t have him panicked over what he’s going to do with you.” She makes it sound like he’s murdered you and doesn’t know what to do with the body.
Helen demonstrates how to affect a man with your trappings.
I’m going to wrap up this part one post on Chapter 7, with the subsection titled ‘Never Underestimate C--- Power.’ “I’ve written a lot about how rotten men can be in the next chapter, and they can be, but that’s only part of their sum. Another part (a very wonderful part) is their being almost demented because of what we do to them and with them in bed, because of this special thing between our legs. I’m not talking about somebody a man merely f----s, but the one he adores, the one with the c--- power.” C--- Power? Carb Power? Cash Power? Corn Power? That can’t be it. Ladies, whatever this c--- Power is, it’s apparently not an endless resource, “. . . be prepared to lose some of your c--- power if you marry – some of it, not all (the man will begin to cherish you for other reasons and, my God, first thing you know you’ve got wife power!” I sure hope this C--- power comes with a cape!
In part two on Helen Gurley Brown’s advice for sex as part of Having It All, we will look at How to Say No (spoiler: you don’t), how to have men love you for your brain (spoiler: you don’t want that) and how to be kept by an anti-Semitic old man (spoiler: it wasn’t the money-making endeavour that Helen had hoped for).
Have you missed a chapter on having it all? Click here to catch up!
Having It All: Your Face and Body and Clothes
These two chapters on ‘Your Face and Body’ and ‘Clothes’ pack a punch (although the black eyes Helen refers to it in are from her plastic surgery.) Helen starts us off on the topic of beauty by beating us down, but she’s going to build us back up right? Well. . . let’s not get our expectations up.
“It starts early, our getting the idea – possibly because it’s true! – that we aren’t pretty.” Buckle up, by the end of this chapter you’ll feel that same way you used to after watching an episode of America’s Next Top model; confused, sad, and full from binging on chocolate.
Chapters 5 and 6 on ‘Your Face and Body’ and ‘Clothes’ pack a punch (although the black eyes Helen refers to are only from her plastic surgery.) Helen starts us off on the topic of beauty by beating us down, but she’s going to build us back up right? Well. . . let’s not get our expectations up.
“It starts early, our getting the idea – possibly because it’s true! – that we aren’t pretty.” Buckle up, by the end of this chapter you’ll feel that same way you used to after watching an episode of America’s Next Top model; confused, sad, and full from binging on chocolate.
“Playboy, in my opinion, doesn’t denigrate women, only women who are not beautiful.”
“Maybe we can’t be beautiful but we can be better! . . . Even though we will mostly wind up the way we came, stuck with the bones, skin, hair, fingernail structure and figure God (genes) gave us, trying for “beautiful” is not only one of life’s pain-assuagers, it is one of life’s ritualistic pleasures.” I'm already thinking I don't have enough time in my schedule for this. But don't worry, there seem to be some 'lazier' options. We can simply wait around and allow “[Men] breathe beauty into us, endow us with whatever they need, get to thinking we are beautiful.” That certainly sounds easier than learning how to properly apply eyeliner (seriously, despite its seemingly self-explanatory name, I still have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing with that stuff). “Even an older non-beauty (Yoko was older) can attract men if she is sexual, entertaining and good to them.” My heart briefly leapt with hope, but a quick Google search tells me that Yoko was only thirty when she married John.
“We are told to value ourselves without feedback, but if nobody is making a pass at you or trying to take you to Bermuda, how are you supposed to feel? Confident?” You know, I think the best part of this book is how relatable Helen makes it. I mean, all of us ‘non-beauties’ can relate to how beautiful we feel when a man tries to take us to Bermuda! There I was in the produce section of the supermarket just last week turning down yet another offer to jet off to this popular destination. Seriously though, your takeaway is this – if you've never been invited by a man to Bermuda (or similar), you’re not hot. Helen-science makes it true.
“Now let’s move on to what we can do with whatever faces we have to make them look better. Lots of people think you shouldn’t do much, that natural is best. Good God, nature can destroy you. As my beloved Dr. Orentreich says, “You can either let spinal meningitis and polio in their natural virulent form kill a little kid or you can fight back. You can let the body deteriorate, stop functioning, as in the aging process, or you can fight back. . . I have been fighting back, mouseburger-fashion, with every shred of me all my life.” Did she just use the idea spinal meningitis killing a child to talk to us about wearing more make-up? Yes, she sure did.
Well, Helen believes that if we “pretty much” accept ourselves and become absorbed with our work, we will “sexually catnip somebody.” However, in order to do this, he must first notice us. And in order for him to notice us, we must send up the equivalent of emergency flares from a sinking ship by applying make-up to our faces. “. . . even the subtlest makeup is a shorthand to the soul. It says, “I want to attract you so I have tried to perfect myself. I am wearing my badge. I am ready for a grown-up, exciting, full-fledged romantic man/woman relationship”. . . whether you’re doing it right – makeup delivers a message from the inner girl. It says, I want you to like and admire me.” The best part about it is that once we have succeeded in snagging a man we can apparently get back those extra few hours in our days by dropping the whole charade, “. . .once a man is hooked on you, he doesn’t care if your face is maggot white and your eyes sink into your skull like olives in a glass of grape juice. . .” Phew!
Helen says that wearing make-up signals a man that a woman is approachable. “Does that sound silly?” she asks us. “Well, when feminists wanted to show their contempt for men and men’s rules, they scrubbed their faces clean, let their hair hang straight and gray and wore black turtleneck sweaters. Men got the message.” Was that message that women who get paid the same still enjoy fulfilling relationships? Was that the message, Helen?
Not really into ‘fixing’ your looks or pandering to men to feel beautiful? Don’t worry, you can still make up for your plain face by being nice, as Helen tells us from her personal experience. “This very morning I looked in the three-way mirror, observed this unsymmetrical face – not ugly or repelling, just totally undistinguished, and, what with the aging, I said to myself, My God, I’ve got to be nicer to people, got to endear myself to them with love pouring out of every pore of me to make up for this face!” Um, Helen? You’re not really pulling that off very well. Maybe top up the old calorie count and try again.
So, you spend your whole life with a subpar face – and then you start aging. Well isn’t that just a bag full of dicks? Don’t worry, Helen has the answer and it rhymes with spastic perjury. I’m as pro-plastic surgery as I am pro-choice; if it’s right for you, then you should do it. Helen, however, believes that “anybody who cares how she looks should.” At the time the book was written she’d had rhinoplasty, dermabrasion (skin scraped) and her “eyes done.” Twenty years after this book was written, at 74, she also got her breasts augmented. . . and possibly a bit more work along the way. “Surgery will not change your life, solve your problems,” she tells us, “but it can give you a great emotional lift.”
Pro tip: “Lose weight before the operation – then if there is sagginess in your face from weight loss the sag can be snipped right away with the lift.”
Some of Helen’s advice is quite reasonable and is still true today, “A booze-free, cigarette-free, junk-food-free diet definitely shows (advantageously) in your face provided you also keep it clean and sleep enough. Sleep is so pleasurable I think most of us get enough but hitting the booze and cigarettes too heavily (by me, hitting them at all except to make love is too heavy!) are big temptations and they aren’t your skin’s friends.” She needs booze and cigarettes to make love? Back in dear old Chapter 3 – The Diet, Helen told us “What few calories I’m allotted I prefer in food, except in sexy moments. (P.S. You know which is healthier.)” Have you ever been stuck in a conversation with someone at a party who tells you a story you can’t quite follow and then ends it with an emphasized and somewhat rhetorical, “Right?” And you have no idea what you are meant to be agreeing too, so you just nod and take a drink, so you can’t be expected to chime in? That is basically what reading this book is like – every single paragraph.
“Do we all agree? That cared-for nails with unchipped polish separate the rich, glossy girls from the others more surely even than clothes or accessories?”
The current state of my nail polish. . . or lack there of.
“Regardless of what you were born with or born without, what you do to fix yourself up, some days you like you, some days you don’t. One day you are crazy about your small breasts, curvy hips, intelligent little face, actually kind of all swelled up with pride, and then one measly day later you are so disgusted with this same group of parts you’d like to put yourself in a big manila envelope and mail yourself to Bolivia!” Why Bolivia? Are the men there less choosy? Well if you can’t afford the shipping, don’t fret, we still have the chapter on clothes and I’m sure all of our insecurities will be wiped away with the right spring fashion tips!
A note on insecurities: I was a hella-awkward kid, teenager, and young adult (who am I kidding, I'm still awkward as hell), but when I think about if I would rather have been born beautiful, not had to wear those braces, or not got that awesome perm when I was ten, the honest answer is no. Every part of who I am and who I have been has contributed to who I am today - and I really love who I am today. So, I fully believe in loving your nerdy-self, your plain-self, and your weird-self whether you add make-up, fashion, or other alterations to the mix or not.
“You can actually wear almost anything” – woohoo! – “unless you’re fat. . .” Well, shit. When will this emotional rollercoaster come to an end? Since the last chapter was a bit of a nut-punch about our looks (again, assuming that we are non-beautiful mouseburgers; as if there are any other kinds!) I thought I would start this chapter with some ideas I could get behind.
“As long as you are clean, not even neat, but clean – though others don’t agree with me on this – I believe your brain and drive are about all that matter and people don’t give a toot what you wear except in the fashion business.” Deal. I can do this. Showering is totally in my wheelhouse. “Clothes will not get you a man, that’s for sure.” Things continue to be looking up. “I think one of life’s top ten (top five?) pleasures is shopping for the lingerie, party dress and swimsuit you’re going to wear with him.” Okay, so I may be stretching here (to the dismay of my boyfriend) but I did really enjoy shopping for the snow pants that I wear when we ski together. That was a nice positive interlude, but now back to regular programming.
“Of course you learn fairly early that what you put on your body isn’t as important to the opposite sex as the shape of the body you put it on (and possibly having naturally curly hair), but still you care.” Right, clothes aren’t actually important, just starving yourself is. And if you’re not starving yourself – and getting a perm, don’t expect fashion to pick up the tab.
In my early 20’s I had a boyfriend tell me that I had no fashion sense because all I wore were t-shirts and jeans. Nearly two decades later and that combination is still working for me – the boyfriend, however, fell out of style. But if you are worried about your taste in clothing, don’t be – “The first and only thing you need is desire. . . You have to want to have taste. Some people have inherently bad taste. Their problem is really not the bad taste – that can be fixed – but they don’t know they have it!” says Carrie Donovan, fashion editor of the New York Times Magazine, who Helen quotes. Helen then goes on to add her own spin to it, “My opinion is that having the kind of chic and flair Carrie is talking about is like sex after forty. You can decide to let sex slip away, not participate, or you can get on the train, hang on to your seat around the curves and have a great sex life.” Sex slips away after 40? Let’s back this train up.
The essence of the clothing chapter can be summed up with these quotes, “You can be better dressed when you own a lot of stuff. . . One thing that separates chic girls from others is that the former wear enough things. Fearful girls skimp. . . I think more mouseburgers don’t wear enough stuff. . .” In other words, the secret to Having It All when it comes to clothes is literally 'have it all. I mean, it was the 80’s and the height of consumerism after all!
Helen at home.
What did I get out of the last two chapters? I’m pretty damn lucky that any men ever spoke to me given my complete and utter lack of knowledge around beauty products, I’m fairly devastated to find out that I’m not beautiful (I’m basing this solely on the fact that no man has ever tried to take me to Bermuda – willingly or otherwise), and until my closet is so full the door won't close, I'm not going to be fashionable.
Now, on to Chapter 7 - Sex! I suspect there will be a lot of wine drinking in this next chapter . . . but hopefully fewer eggs than in chapter 3.
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Having It All: Exercise (Obsessively)
After Helen’s last chapter on diet, I expected this one on exercise to be full of unhealthy and near-neurotic advice and anecdotes – and it was, but I was also surprised to find how much I agree with some of the things Helen had to say on the topic. And given that we share similar childhood experiences when it comes to sports and fitness, I even felt a little bond growing between us as I turned the brittle, yellowed pages of ‘Having It All’ (which incidentally I still don’t).
Both Helen and I had lacking childhoods where prescribed fitness was concerned.
After Helen’s last chapter on diet, I expected this one on exercise to be full of unhealthy and near-neurotic advice and anecdotes – and it was, but I was also surprised to find how much I agree with some of the things Helen had to say on the topic. And given that we share similar childhood experiences when it comes to sports and fitness, I even felt a little bond growing between us as I turned the brittle, yellowed pages of ‘Having It All’ (which incidentally I still don’t).
“If they’d only let us choose. . . I’d have traded my swan neck and pretty ears (who needs great ears?) for a bosom and long legs any time, but it’s all fixed at birth, you see. Your basic body is where your bones are and trying to get any of them rearranged . . . well, you might as well try to get your typewriter to eat grass - but wait, there’s hope.”
“I used to take “rest” while other kids took gym. While they were out on the hockey field, lining up at the baseball diamond, choosing sides for volleyball, about twenty of us scrawnies were given a glass of milk and two graham crackers and put to bed for an hour.” Oh, how I envy the school systems of the 1930’s. The only way I could get out of P.E. class was by claiming to have menstrual cramps – and no one gave me any cookies! Seriously, I did this so often that someone really should have been concerned about my well-being; or at least my iron levels. Once I even rewrote a math test three times to avoid some outdoor group activity that was meant to be a reward for finishing early. No thank you.
Jane Fonda is just one of the workout guru's that Helen mentions in her book.
She assures me that the more I exercise, the more “more skilled and less clumsy” I will get; I managed to snap myself in the face with a resistance band just last week, so I'm not sure how much I believe her. I do appreciate, however, that she wrote “exercise is so individual," it may be common knowledge these days, but it really wasn't when I was a kid. When I was in school, you either played team sports or you didn’t participate in fitness – so I didn't participate. To this day, possibly only on threat of death (or dieting) could you get me to play a team sport; bringing a main dish to potluck is about as close as I get. It wasn't until I was an adult that I found activities that I enjoyed, like hiking and mountain biking. Being somewhat of a late bloomer in this area, I felt comforted to read that Helen hadn't discovered exercise until she was forty-seven. Of course, she promptly became an expert in it, “I have a few thoughts on the subject and nothing is going to keep me from telling you!”
About half the content of this chapter still holds true today as good, or at least not horrifically misguided, advice. For example, Helen and I agree that exercise makes you feel better and improves your overall health and immune system. “Medically proved fact: Exercise lifts the spirits of moody, melancholy people. . . No matter how yucky I feel on getting up in the morning – and sometimes I am mildly depressed then – an hour of exercise miraculously lifts the gloom.” Finally, something in this book that she can claim as a fact. . . that actually is one. Helen also goes on to explain to us how exercise can improve our cardiovascular and respiratory systems and how mental and physical stress can both be helped by better overall fitness. She covers some good tips on getting started – “You also know to start modestly and work up. A few heavy crash sessions will only discourage you because your body isn’t ready for so much abuse, and you’ll stop after exhausting yourself a couple of times. Begin little and move on.” And covers fads – even though she was dedicated to them in the last chapter – “Nearly every exercise maven thinks his system is the only way to salvation and says the others will kill you. They’re wrong, of course! Anything you do regularly is good.” All this advice holds up.
Helen doing yoga in her office.
But just when Helen and I were seeing eye-to-eye and I was starting to wonder if I had completely misjudged her, she gives us a little peek into her own life – “One morning when I was writhing on the floor with stomach cramps after a thirty-six hour fast plus my usual hour of huff-puff. . .” God damn it, Helen! Here we go again.
While touting the benefits of exercise, she is very clear that dieting is still top dog when it comes to having it all. “Even men can’t necessarily tell that you’re exercised; weight loss is far more dramatic and noticeable. . . I must point out again that “smaller” mostly comes from weight loss, which comes from diet. . . People looking at you may think you’re cute and trim from “nature,” but you know it’s from exercise and exercises soul mate, diet,” these are just a few of the reminders peppered throughout. And come on Helen, we all know that exercise’s soulmate is food. Why else would we do it, if not to be able to eat more? Let’s just be clear on motivation here.
“Spot exercise” - to attack certain problem areas - is surely advisable. . . For two years I visited a terrific little gym. . . to work specifically on inner thigh and under arm flab (the terrible two!).”
“Could we agree that getting dysentery from eating unpeeled vegetables in a foreign country doesn’t count as sick?” No. I’m like 99% sure that only counts as one thing – and that one thing would be getting sick. “I was sick, but exercising never went. For an exerciser there is no exhaustion, fatigue, home or office crisis, too-late night, too-early morning or illness extreme enough to keep you from your accustomed workout. . . the exercise generally makes you feel better.” In fact, Helen believes that “Unless you’re felled with a hysterectomy or lockjaw, it seems to me you’d best continue, without pause, once you begin and every day is best.” In thirteen years (at the time the book was written) Helen had only missed two days of exercise. Even after having her eyes ‘done’ she was back exercising the very next day – “The doctor had forbade all exercise for two weeks so my energy could go to healing, but I was certain he meant me to be an exception.” Obviously.
Helen working out in her office.
At one point Helen asks us – “Am I getting too intense?” Helen, honey, it’s chapter four and page one-hundred-and-three and only now you’ve become concerned about your intensity? That ship sailed around the first paragraph of the first chapter – possibly even on the contents page.
“There is almost no such thing as too much exercise if you can carve out enough time,” Helen continues. This sounds vaguely as accurate as the advice in the previous chapter about how there is no such thing as being too skinny. “Eleanor” someone Helen knows (I hesitate to use the word ‘friend’), “exercises two hours a day at Lotte Berk salon (their routines are killers), then swims one hundred eighty laps in her pool. She also doesn’t eat. Well, seeing this paragon with her dear, perfect little arms and legs sticking out of her newest Scaasi is enough to make you want to do just one thing – push her out the window. . .” Retract those claws there Helen! Meow!
“Some exercises actually produce horniness.” Okay, you’ve got my attention! But apparently we are going to have to wait for a few chapters before she gives us her ‘recipe’ for it – Helen, you are one heck of a tease! She goes on to tell us that one of the benefits of exercise where sex is concerned is that “You can get into any position ever invented without dislocating a thing. It seems to me a man used to an agile girl could hardly put up with one whose bones kept cracking or who said things like, “Oh, God, Henry, I think my back went out.” I suppose being in love with the woman helps.” Um. I guess, maybe love has something to do with it. “I don’t fear death but I do fear the loss of femininity, of attraction between me and a man. If I could die f-----g, that would be the way I would want to go, and if the moment came a little sooner than I’d hoped that would be a small price to pay for having stayed female all my life. . .” Recently, I was telling a friend about how Helen got breast implants in her mid-70’s to which she replied “if I still have to worry about shit like that at that age, then what’s the point of getting old? Finally, not having to worry about all this,” she gestured to her body, “is the only thing I’m looking forward to.” I couldn’t agree more. Although, I suppose dying in the middle of a sexual-encounter-induced-by-a-fit-of-horniness-resulting-from-a-Helen-Gurley-Brown-prescribed-exercise is not a terrible way to exit this world.
“A nurse I know who jogs four miles a day tells me she never has to worry about meeting men. Between the ones who come to her doctor boss for hair transplants and the ones who jog, she has a great pick.”
As a final closing thought to ponder I would like to offer up a topic that may be near and dear to the hearts of many of the women I know. “Herb Goldberg, author of the New Male, says a woman who concentrates on health instead of hair and clothes can run with a man, play tennis with men, go skating, boating, river rafting, that being sports-minded is the new attraction available to all women. It’s a thought.” Now, all my life I have intuitively focused more on, well – just about anything, other than my hair and clothes, so I’m grateful to hear that men may still find me attractive. But at the same time, isn’t this book called ‘Having It All’? Shouldn’t I be able to spend time on my looks and go boating?
How lucky do I feel that back in the late 70's Herb Goldberg suggested in his book that "being sports-minded is the new attraction available to all women"?
On to chapter five to find that answer; “Now let’s talk about a subject I get the jaw-wobbles about just contemplating what I’m going to say. . . beauty (the facial kind)!" I am uncertain if ‘jaw-wobbles’ is an occurrence that happens when you are excited or afraid or post-coitus, but I’m sure I will find out!
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Having It All: The Diet (or How to Survive on Wine and Eggs)
Helen tells us that “It is unthinkable that a woman bent on “having it all” would want to be fat, or even plump.” Helen and I are both 5'4 and according to her, I am 31 pounds overweight. By her definition, I'm not cute or sexy. I disagree. Now prepare yourselves, because this chapter only gets worse - “Do you like fat men? Of course not. . . [and] you ought to be suspicious of men who say they like fat women. Those men want mothers, at least a comfy, cushiony, sofa-pillow girl to sink into and hide out in.” And worse.
Helen and I are both 5'4 and I weigh 31 pounds more than she did. By her definition, I'm not cute or sexy. I disagree.
“It is unthinkable that a woman bent on “having it all” would want to be fat, or even plump," Helen tells us from her pulpit, "so I am going to give you my diet rules.” I’m just going to take a minute to let that sink in, because not only is it a horrifying statement, I want you to be prepared because this chapter gets a lot worse. “Do you like fat men? Of course not. . . [and] you ought to be suspicious of men who say they like fat women. Those men want mothers, at least a comfy, cushiony, sofa-pillow girl to sink into and hide out in.” Yes, it even gets worse than this.
“if you’re frightened of [job and/or sex success], fatness will pretty much guarantee you won’t get them.”
Right off the bat, she advises us not to talk to our doctors about dieting, “Many doctors don’t know anything about nutrition, incidentally.” And yet, shockingly, she finds a number of professionals – and I use the term loosely – who back up her recommendations, which include a daily calorie intake of 700-1000, fasting – as punishment for binging, and crash diets. “That’s dieting: eating less than you’d really like to for the rest of your life!” Well, I’m going to jump right in without medical advice so that I too, can have it all – although I’m so hungry right now that I would trade having it all for a big piece of cheesecake. Actually, I’d trade pretty much anything for cheesecake most days. I might be in trouble here.
“Now, many women say they don’t want to look cadaverous like a model. Well, models don’t happen to look cadaverous, they look great.” After this statement, I stopped to take inventory in the mirror. I’m 5’4 on a good day, I weigh 136 pounds, I have birthing hips that farm women of the 50’s would be jealous of, thick cankles that I maintain keep me from tipping over in high winds, and a trunk with enough junk to classify me as a hoarder. My only bone that sticks out is certainly not a rib, it’s a wonky collarbone that I broke five years ago. Got the image? Okay. I think it's only fair that you have a solid understanding of my credentials as we get deeper into this.
Cheryl Tiegs at 5'10 and 102 pounds.
“Cheryl Tiegs – one hundred two pounds, and she’s five feet ten inches!” Cheryl Tiegs – if you don't know – was a model in the 70’s and 80’s and is known to have been the first woman to grace the cover of the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit edition twice! To put Helen's words into context using the Body Mass Index – a score of 18.5 or under is considered underweight. Cheryl Tiegs would score 14.6. A gorgeous, healthy, and fit friend of mine who is also 5’10 and weighs 145 pounds would score 20.8 (a score falling between 18.5 – 24.9 is considered a normal weight). While the Body Mass Index is far from perfect, it does help to illustrate my point. “Insurance companies," Helen continues, “say you can weigh a lot more than you did at nineteen. They say you can carry around the most fantastic amounts, like one hundred twenty-eight pounds when you’re five feet three inches! Those weights are mythical if you want to be cute and sexy.” Again – in case you missed it – I am 5’4 and 136 pounds. My BMI at 23.3 might be the most normal thing about me. I’ve also never considered my weight as a factor in being cute and sexy – I've always thought that my lack of coordination has a much bigger impact on my sex appeal. “When one-hundred-and-two-pound Cheryl Tiegs gets up to One hundred five,” Helen tells us, “she says she stops eating and maybe you, too, will have to stop eating occasionally.” Well, it looks like I’m going to have to because to have the same BMI as 1983 Cheryl Tiegs, I would have to weigh 85 pounds. But don’t worry, according to this book, Dr. Myron Winnick, (then) director of Columbia University’s Institute of Human Nutrition, says, “It’s almost impossible for a healthy person to be too thin. There are very few medical problems associated with thinness.” As recently as 2005, this doctor published a book about children’s nutrition. I'm not even joking. In any case, I'm feeling reassured that as long as I'm healthy, I can be as thin as I want! Sure, that makes sense.
“your body and your brain feel best on a low-calorie, low-carbohydrate diet. . . They really do.”
“Well, the price for the ideal weight is, yes, semistarvation!” God damn it, Helen. “But can’t you weigh a little more than “ideal” and still be healthy?” Fingers crossed she says yes! “Yes, a little more perhaps – five or ten pounds – but now we come to pride.” Well, shit. “If you want a flat stomach, huggable hips, round but slender arms, you’ve probably got to be at the “ideal” weight or less, because those extra five or ten pounds never go to the throat, breasts or shoulders where we’d like them, but always to the stomach and hips.” The throat and shoulders? Breasts I get, but has anyone ever said would you look at the throat on her?” Not to mention that clearly the '80's were not a booty-loving heyday. “Anyways, from “decent” skinny eating (no salt, no sugar, minimal starch), exercising an hour a day, taking vitamins (sixty a day now), no smoking, no drinking, no caffeine, no drugs, and being motivated to stay well, your life can change utterly. Mine did.” 60 vitamins a day? Who’s got the time? “No matter what diet you’re on, if you cut carbohydrates and don’t even eat all the meat, eggs, fowl and fish you want, I think you’ll get there faster.” Yes, no matter what diet you may already be on, if you eat less, you will lose more weight. I can’t argue with that logic.
“When you’re into big-time serious dieting, you must plan what you’re going to eat that day – seven hundred cals, one thousand cals – and not eat another thing.” By my calculations, eating in my usual and healthy way, I have blown through her allotted calories by early afternoon. True story. The amount of hanger that would rain down if I should cut my calories to 700 a day, would surely drive my boyfriend into hiding – I think he’s nervously trying to pick up extra work shifts as I type this. It’s no wonder that Helen was such a bitch. “I have never been fat,” – okay, she was a skinny bitch – “because I have always made myself pay for binges (thirty-six hours without any food . . . ghastly!)” Well, this is sounding healthier. She tells us about the time that a pound of chocolate was delivered to her door in the form of a Candygram, “As soon as the Western Union boy departed, I sat down by the front door and ate the whole thing. Incredible what the human tummy will hold. . . it just stretches and stretches!” While she doesn’t completely endorse it, she also uses her own euphemism to make purging sound not exactly unpleasant. “Never mind that ancient Romans did it, some determined young ladies (a couple famous ones) keep to skin and bones now by eating and whoopsing.” Whoopsing.
Helen at 5'4 and a 'doctor-approved' 105 pounds.
Don’t feel like whoopsing? Don’t worry, Helen has doctor-approved crash diets to offer as well. “Isn’t crashing bad for you?” According to Dr. Irwin Stillman, author of The Doctor’s Quick Weight Loss Diet, it’s not! “In my experience, there’s no question that quick-action dieting which alters radically and suddenly your ways of eating is the best way to reduce. . . the too-prevalent viewpoint that a fast take-off of weight is linked inevitably with a fast put-on. . . is not true.” This guy sounds credible. On The Stillman Diet, which claims you will lose 7-15 pounds in the first week, you eat six small meals a day – I pretty much do that already, you drink eight glasses of water a day – I also do that, and you eat as much lean meat, poultry, seafood, eggs and non-fat cottage cheese as you want – sounds good to me! But you can’t use any type of oil to cook – well, I can get used to that. Alcohol and sugar are also off the menu – I can accept that if I have to. Tobasco, salt, pepper, and garlic are allowed – that sounds tasty! “The diet strictly forbids carbohydrates, vegetables, and fruits” – um, what did you say now? That can’t be right. Well, it is and that’s why this dude's famous diet resulted often in malnutrition, weak bones, kidney stones, high cholesterol levels, and only short-term weight loss. But once again, Helen comes to the rescue of her bad research and gives us her own proven diet advice, “This is one of my favorite crashes. . . Breakfast: one egg cooked without butter, one glass of white wine. Luch: two eggs, cook without butter, two glasses of white wine. Dinner: medium steak, all fat trimmed, broiled, and finish the bottle of wine.” Drunk, hangry, and with all those eggs in your belly is such a great way to achieve cute and sexy.
But eventually, even Helen found “binge-ing having to be followed by remorse and starvation” an uncomfortable way to live and instead just limited what she ate every day. “I think you may have to have a tiny touch of anorexia nervosa to maintain an ideal weight. . . not a heavy case, just a little one.” We all know that anorexia is super easy to regulate and maintain. Much like how an alcoholic can be just a social drinker when they decide to be.
“I have never been fat because I always made myself pay for binges (thirty-six hours without any food. . . ghastly!”
Once her doormat chocolate binging days were behind her, Helen swore off sugar and alcohol. “They’d have to get my jaws open with a crowbar now to get dessert down me.” And, even with Helen’s busy social life, she managed her choices with grace and dignity. “To get rid of calories at parties and to outfox a determined host, I have dumped champagne (which I adore) into other people’s glasses when they weren’t looking or, in a real emergency, into a split-leaf philodendron, wrapped eclairs in a hanky and put them in my purse, once in an emergency, sequestered one behind the cushion of an upholstered chair – in a napkin of course.” How very thoughtful. “One aggravated hostess put chocolate chips in my Sanka out in the kitchen one day, then gleefully told me what she’d done after I drank. Bitch!” Haters gonna hate, Helen.
Still have a sweet tooth? Helen recommends using artificial sweeteners in place of sugar. “The food and drug administration tells us that saccharine and sucaryl, even the amounts contained in two bottles of diet soda a day, may be carcinogenic. . . Okay, if saccharine and sucaryl suffice for sugar in my life, I think they are worth the risk.” She did live to be 90, so I can’t really argue her logic here. “As I write this a new artificial sweetener, aspartame, is being test-marketed. I’ve used it and it’s sensational. . . the brand name is Equal, it should be available for all of us soon.” And what a joyous day it was for all when Equal came on the market.
Helen’s Desert Recipe
- 1 envelope D-Zerta chocolate pudding
- 2 envelopes Sweet ‘n Low, Sugar Twin or other artificial sweetener
- 1 rounded tablespoon instant Sanka, Brim, or regular coffee
- 2 Cups skim milk
- 2 tablespoons (2 ounces) Hershey chocolate syrup
- 2 tablespoons (1 ounce) brandy
Serves 3 people at 140 calories per serving and is “quite delicious.”
“Even with sugar out of my life, I still weighed, at five feet four, one hundred ten or twelve pounds, still had a pouchy stomach. . .” Again, Helen and I are the same height and I weigh 26 pounds more than her. Maybe my bones are just super dense. “So I went to see one of those gifted doctors that maybe you can only find in New York,” – sorry Helen, I think you can find quacks just about anywhere – “who confirmed that one hundred five would indeed be a much better weight in my case and gave me a product called Optifast to get off the five pounds.” Apparently, doctors don’t know anything about nutrition unless they are telling you to lose weight and do it quickly! Check.
Yes, this dieting advice came from the woman who chose these covers, and many more just like them.
I learned a lot in this chapter – mostly that having it all doesn't include health – under sections titled, Despite All the Controversy About How to Go About It and How Terribly Tough It Is, Dieting Really Is Moral, Sexy and Healthy; Exercise Is Good for You – But It Won’t Make You Skinny; Self-Induced Throwing Up After an Orgy is Brave, But Not Good For You; Crashing is Okay, So Is Fasting; A Skinny Can Invest Her Calories in Food Or Drink – But Not Both. In that last one Helen writes about choosing food or drink, “What few calories I’m allotted, I prefer in food, except in sexy moments. (P.S. You know which is healthier.)” I’m still perplexed at this statement. If we are getting drunk for “sexy moments” then why are we bothering to starve ourselves? Everyone looks sexy after a bottle of wine. Oh, Helen – what a great practical joke on the women of yesterday this book is turning out to be.
She leaves us with this – “Can you admire your utterly outstanding pelvic bones the way other people admire Bo Derek’s bosom, take endless please in patting your stomach because it (still) isn’t there, thank God!, go into deep depression at the gain of even half a pound? Good!” Well no. But here’s to getting drunk on wine and eggs until I do!
As soon as I sober up, I'll start on Chapter 4 - Excercise. Helen has already said that we should exercise because it "helps especially when you’ve “lost weight in the wrong places,” but not because it’s much help in using up calories.” Noted.
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Having It All: How to Mouseburger My Way to the Top
“Why, really, should you listen to or do what I say?” It's as though Helen is reading my mind. As a response she tells us about the time that she was visiting Martha’s Vineyard with her husband back in the late 70’s when she “saw a rather pretty girl – twenty-two perhaps,” sun tanning on a dock. “She had a nice body, long legs. . . I studied her – the face isn’t as good as the body, I decided. . . nose a little big, eyes a little small, mouth a bit thin. Nice girl, nothing special.” Helen wondered if this poor disadvantaged girl would have a chance with any of the rich and famous men who frequented Martha’s Vineyard. “She would have a chance as a hanger-on, I decided . . . a little cookieburger that one of these men might take on for an evening.” But Helen knew that if she had her chance to impart her wisdom that this girl could “have her man – a good and “heavy” one . . . as well as a place in the sunshine which will make people listen to her and not reject her because she looks only okay but not great.”
Photo: Hearst Corporation
“Why, really, should you listen to or do what I say?” It's as though Helen is reading my mind. As a response she tells us about the time that she was visiting Martha’s Vineyard with her husband back in the late 70’s when she “saw a rather pretty girl – twenty-two perhaps,” sun tanning on a dock. “She had a nice body, long legs. . . I studied her – the face isn’t as good as the body, I decided. . . nose a little big, eyes a little small, mouth a bit thin. Nice girl, nothing special.” Helen wondered if this poor disadvantaged girl would have a chance with any of the rich and famous men who frequented Martha’s Vineyard. “She would have a chance as a hanger-on, I decided . . . a little cookieburger that one of these men might take on for an evening.” But Helen knew that if she had her chance to impart her wisdom that this girl could “have her man – a good and “heavy” one . . . as well as a place in the sunshine which will make people listen to her and not reject her because she looks only okay but not great.”
This is from a woman who admits in this chapter that during a press conference with Jimmy Carter she “couldn’t understand a lot of what he was saying. . . because [her] brain turns off at complex subjects!” And that “On Pearl Harbor day, December 7, 1941, the other secretary in my department at radio station KHJ heard the horrendous news, jumped out of bed like a little greased mosquito and went straight to the station. I heard the news, hadn’t a notion what Pearl Harbor meant to the world or radio station KHJ and went back to sleep.” She also admits to having “the wildest crush on Rupert Murdoch.” But still, there might be something to glean from these pages. Right?
This chapter is 63-pages of subsections with titles like, ‘A College Degree Isn’t That Important,’ ‘The Way to Dress for an Office Is Pretty,’ ‘Sexual Harassment Isn’t What It’s Cracked Up to Be,’ ‘Don’t Be Afraid that Success Will Defeminize You,’ and ‘Don’t Be Your Own Best Friend!’
She asks the reader – me – early on, “How old are you? Twenty-one? Thirty?” I wait for her to hand out some other options, but she tops out at thirty. Sure, let’s say I’m thirty. “We (you with me helping) are now going to begin the arduous task of mouseburging your way to the top. . . quietly, steadily getting there although at the moment you feel like nobody special, possibly even a mouse.” Let’s dive right in.
It turns out that the crux of this book – of the whole mouseburger plan – is our job. “Could we talk for a moment?” Helen asks us conspiratorially. Why sure Helen, of course, we can talk. “A beautiful secretary will be asked out; a beautiful account executive will have more impact on a man when she’s asked out and, if you aren’t beautiful, a serious job will bring you to more (good) men’s attention. . . most men have learned to love a doer rather than a dodo.” Helen spends much of the chapter bouncing between how a job will bring us great satisfaction and how it will help us find and keep a man – two things that are clearly meant to motivate us equally.
A quick note about contradictions – of which there are many in this book, only a few pages after telling us that secretaries won’t have much impact on a man, she tells us that “As a young actor, Marlon Brando dated studio secretaries almost exclusively. F. Lee Bailey, Yousuf Karsh, Allen Funt and dozens of other gifted men married their secretaries. I could go on!” We just have to politely overlook Helen’s inconsistencies otherwise our faith in her advice could be shaken.
Okay, down to the bones of this plan. “This is how it works: You get a man by dealing with him on his professional level, then stay around to charm and sexually zonk him. Yes, I know sex exists for us to feel good and enjoy ourselves, but you can feel very good and enjoy yourself like a sea otter and zonk him as well.” In an effort to add a little clarity to this statement – according to dictionary.com, ‘zonk’ means to hit or strike or to fall or cause to fall suddenly and heavily asleep or lose consciousness. When researching sea otter sexuality to better understand that reference I only found an article titled ‘Why Sea Otter Force Sex on Other Species.’
It became quite clear in the first chapter that Helen is what I would refer to as a ‘frenemy’ of other women, but here she really lets the claws come out – and mostly directs her ire at stay-at-home wives and moms. “Even lovely stay-homes, with incredible homes to stay in, closets full of Adolfos, and garages full of Mercedes-Benzes get left out in the garage with the Mercedes because they don’t have an identity aside from being somebody’s wife and mother. I’ve observed that the women who have as good jobs as their men get left less frequently. . .” I feel secure in the knowledge that Helen has really done her research before making these sweeping statements.
Much of this chapter focuses on minutely different aspects of women being concerned that men won’t find them attractive if they are successful. “As for your appeal to men, successful women have it. . . don’t even entertain any other idea! Why else are stay-at-home wives terrified of their men “staying at the office late” and spending time “on the road” with their female associates?” Well, Helen, these women may be afraid because of women like you – stay with me here.
It turns out that Helen a big proponent of – you guessed it – sex in the workplace. “The sexual you is part of the whole you and doesn’t snap off – God we hope not, anyway! – between nine and six.” Helen suggests we harness sexual tension we have with co-workers, “Trying to please somebody you’re nutty about can be productive.” And it turns out that Helen was quite productive in her work life. “With the exceptions of my present job at Cosmo, may I say I have never worked anywhere – and I’ve worked a lot of anywheres – without being sexually involved with somebody in the office. What else are office friends for?! . . . As for not sleeping with the boss, why discriminate against him?”
Speaking of bosses. Under a subsection titled ‘Sexual Harassment Isn’t What It’s Cracked Up to Be,’ Helen tells us that in the 40’s jobs were hard to come by and “you did not do anything to rebuff or offend a boss, even a horny one. . . but Jesus,” she exclaims, “I can’t remember anything really heavy or bad coming of it.” Um. What. Even typing this up I’m resisting the urge to wave my hands in the air and yell, “what the fuck! #metoo bitch!” But then she keeps going, as Helen often does. “One of my bosses at dear, staid Music Corporation of America used to ask me to come in on Sundays to “get rid of this extra work,” and he would chase me around his beautiful quiet office with all those fabulous antiques and sometimes catch me, but only for a few hugs and kisses. . . Was that so terrible?” Yes, Helen, that is fucking horrible. Granted she is describing something that happened in 1945, but – she’s using it to give advice to women in 1983! She’s not stopping the cycle, she’s the one with a big stick stirring it up so it doesn’t lose momentum. Just in case she wasn’t clear about her veiled insinuations about how women should handle unwanted sexual advances in the office, she lays it out for our little mouseburger brains. “Of the millions of naughty suggestions made by millions of male employers to their “defenseless” female employees yearly, I’d say half cheered the girls up, half brought the girls down, but probably nothing bad has come out of most of them.” I realize that being speechless isn’t the greatest quality when I’m trying to write – but rest assured that when I read this, all I could do was wave my arms around and gasp like a fish that has escaped Harvey Weinstein's aquarium.
Dolly Parton in 9-5. I'm just going to leave this right here.
I know we are all still reeling from that last section, but we are finally getting into the nitty-gritty of our biggest concerns. “What about getting masculine and flinty as you climb?” Again, many subsections are devoted to this topic. She tells us that “the way to dress for an office is pretty” and that she’s “never seen a woman held back in a job because of what she wore if her brain and drive and devotion were okay.” So, the only time that what you wear to the office would be considered inappropriate would be if your performance was subpar. Funny, I thought that was when you were supposed to bring out the ‘big guns’ – or ‘walk the puppies’ as my brother-in-law used to say. If you’re still afraid that your success will defeminize you, don’t worry, there is half a page of testimonials about how men don’t find their mother’s masculine, how you should never raise your voice at work, and how you get what you want in the workplace by “being stubborn – a very feminine trait.” Helen then concludes “the bigger job can only make you more desirable to most men. . . That is God’s truth.” She really went all in on that one.
“Okay, how long are you to carry on like a craven little nit, doing all that “pleasing” and all those grubby chores in whatever job you’re in?” Apparently, when it comes to moving up the corporate ladder, you don’t really have to be great because “Companies need to move along anyone who is movable and it’s happening more and more to women since Women’s Lib got after everybody.” It must have been so convenient for Helen to reap the rewards of a movement she didn’t care about - and publicly criticized. It would be like me having greasy McRib fingers when I hadn't even signed the petition to bring it back.
A Few More Highlights From this Chapter:
“Put vital statistics first – name, address, phone, age, marital status. Put job experience next . . . Education comes after that. . .List extracurricular activities next. . . If you look nice, send along a snapshot – preferably full length – to the hottest prospects.” While Helen herself had sixteen secretarial jobs in nine years, she says, “I simply eliminated eight jobs from my application form so they wouldn’t think I was a drifter!”
“Give answers and ideas quickly and it will save you from having to give terrific ones!” Phew! I’ll just shout out everything that comes to my mind in a meeting and then I’ll never be expected to actually have any good input. Well, that certainly sounds like the key to success!
“It’s Okay to “Borrow” Ideas from a Friend when You’re Stuck,” Helen tells us that her husband has written the cover blurbs for Cosmo for years and that the article ideas that he likes are the ones they assign. Scattered throughout the chapter she also tells us that he gave her the idea for her Sex and the Single Woman book – after his first wife didn’t write it and that it was his contacts that got her the job with Cosmo. It certainly sounds like having it all just means having a well-connected husband with great ideas. Incidentally, her husband, David Brown, was a movie producer who is best known for producing Jaws, Cocoon, and Driving Miss Daisy.
In a section titled “If You Have Daily Anguish from Things that Aren’t Your Fault, the New Isn’t All Bad” Helen asks, “Have you a rotten family, bad health, nowhere looks, serious money problems, a minority background, nobody to help you?” and then goes on a long list of example of successful people who have had challenges in their youth. Come one, anyone who has watched a Disney movie has learned this lesson – over and over and over.
“Now let’s move into the area of looking and feeling good. I know a lot about the latter, a little about the former – both good places to start a life-enhancing campaign.” I'm assuming that the next chapter, titled 'The Diet,' has a subsection titled 'How to Lose Weight and Get Your Lecherous Boss to Notice You.' Tune in next week as I continue my mouseburger journey to Having It All!
Missed the first chapter? You can catch up here.
Having It All: Am I a Mouseburger?
Last spring, I was perusing a selection of books at a thrift store when the word Mouseburger caught my eye on the back cover of Having It All – written Helen Gurley Brown and published in 1983. I wondered what the fuck a Mouseburger was – is it something that Tigers eat or is it a tiny burger that mice eat? Moreover, I was intrigued by what ‘having it all’ meant over thirty years ago and what women were willing to do to get it. The fact that someone had already expelled it from their personal library made me wonder if they had achieved the promise the title made or been horribly lead astray by it. So, I spent the $0.99 – a bargain from the original $4.99 cover price – and took it home.
“IF YOU’D RATHER BE A TIGER THAN A MOUSEBURGER, STEP RIGHT UP. . . ”
Last spring, I was perusing a selection of books at a thrift store when the word 'mouseburger' caught my eye on the back cover of Having It All – written Helen Gurley Brown and published in 1983. I wondered what the fuck a mouseburger was – is it something that tigers eat or is it a tiny burger that mice eat? Moreover, I was intrigued by what ‘having it all’ meant over thirty years ago and what women were willing to do to get it. The fact that someone had already expelled it from their personal library made me wonder if they had achieved the promise the title made or been horribly led astray by it. So, I spent the $0.99 – a bargain from the original $4.99 cover price – and took it home.
The author, Helen Gurley Brown, was the Editor-in-Chief of Cosmopolitan Magazine for 32 years and published many other books in her lifetime including Sex and the Single Girl in 1962. While she once ridiculed women’s-libbers as “a bunch of nutburgers” – she really had a thing for burgers – her role as a feminist is a complicated one. She has both been applauded for empowering women to embrace their sexuality and criticized for creating a magazine that has greatly contributed to the society of body shaming we live. A brief scan inside the covers of Having It All and it is clear that her advice here bounces like a ping pong ball between these extremes.
BETTMANN / CORBIS
Despite her somewhat dubious legacy and inspired by the new year, I pulled it off the shelf this morning determined to take the step-by-step advice of 'The Ultimate Woman’s Guide to Love Success, Sex, Money, Even If You’re Starting with Nothing.' And with the air thick with soon-to-be-broken New Year’s resolutions I began my transformation from mouseburger to tiger.
Chapter One – Who Are You?
I have to admit the start of this book doesn’t give me a whole lot of confidence – within the first paragraph, the woman who is going to spend the next 374 pages telling me how to become a tiger, takes a rather dark turn in the present tense. "I consider asking the driver to try entering the Hollywood Freeway southbound from the southbound off ramp; if we make it, this would have us moving north when everybody else was coming south and take care of the future." Not only is Helen willing to take her driver with her – but she found it necessary to get into the minute details of how onramps work. Later on, however, it is made clear that this is not the book for intellectual women, and the target audience therefore clearly necessitates the dumbing down of. . . well, everything (this makes for a very wordy book). But don’t worry about Helen's wellbeing. By the time she’s left the set of the Tonight Show – where she has been invited to appear many times (she tells us) – and pulled into the driveway of her Bel-Air hotel, she is already feeling better about her lot in life.
I’m still wondering what a mouseburger is when she reveals to us that she herself is one. What? It turns out that mouseburgers are 'people who are not prepossessing, not pretty, don’t have a particularly high I.Q., a decent education, good family background or other noticeable assets.' Helen – at 59 – wants to share her craft, but only if you hunger for better things and have guts! As a testament to her abilities, she mentions the increasing joy she feels while other women her age feel "dumped and useless." But to be clear this isn’t a book for those women – I’m not even sure it’s a book for me – you must be a youthful mouseburger to benefit from her teachings. She wobbles slightly again towards the end of the fifth paragraph when, after discussing how euphoric she feels most mornings, she again wonders if she can "do it" with an overdose of her hive medication. Okay then. This might be more of a do as I say and not as I do kinda book.
Apparently, the only way this book will help me is if I share Helen’s goals.
"Do you, by any chance, also want:
- To love and be loved by a desirable man or men?
- To enjoy sex?
- To be happy in your work – and maybe even famous?
- To make money – possibly a lot?
- To look great?
- To have wonderful, loyal friends?
- To help your family?
- To be free of most anxiety?
- Never to be bored and maybe leave the world a better place?"
As rhetorically as that question was stated - I was immediately sucked in. Could this book maybe make me famous? Could it teach me to possibly make a lot of money? Could it free me from most anxiety? Could I maybe leave the world a better place? I am so glad I found this book. But I am still wondering if I am a mouseburger. But don’t worry, there are 17 wordy statements to help me determine, not only if I am one, but also if Helen can help me – or rather, if she is my "guru" as she puts it.
Please answer true or false to these statements (these are mostly abridged versions of the statements):
1. You’re smart. You may not be an intellectual or a scholar, but you are “street smart.” Like a little forest animal, you are quick and adaptable.
2. Technically smart people intimidate you, but you know, in your own way, you are as “smart” as they are.
Did Helen invent that backhanded compliment? And why is the word smart in quotations. Is it because little forest animals aren’t actually as “smart” as technically smart people? I am just going to move along.
3. You are sensitive (intuitive) to the point of near craziness. When a man is falling in love with a woman – not you – you know that (and it usually hurts!)
For further clarity on this near craziness that I may experience she also notes that you can sense when you’re about to be fired, when someone doesn’t like you at first sight, and when the audience hates a stand-up comic. Come on. Everyone knows when the audience doesn’t like a comic.
4. You get instant telephone vibes. About one sentence into a conversation you know you have somebody on the other end of the phone who is an idiot and will never be able to help you.
If you’re calling your cell phone provider you can pretty much make that assumption before you dial.
5. While being intuitive, you are also impatient.
False.
6. You’re modest.
This is so true. Guys – I’m the most modest.
7. Envy is not unknown to you. Put it this way. In everybody under ninety who isn’t in jail, terminally diseased or under indictment by the Federal Government, you can probably find something admirable they have and you haven’t (and wished you did). As for the really golden people, words haven’t yet been invented to describe the disparity you think exists between you and them.
So, what Helen is saying here is that there is nothing enviable about those who are over ninety, in jail, terminally ill, or under indictment by the Feds? Those are some interesting subsections of society that she had deemed unworthy – and I suspect some of the people who have had the most fun in life.
8. You’re more selfish than altruistic. Idealists would not exactly describe you – you are not mad to move to India to push birth control or to Riyadh to hasten civil rights until you get something together for yourself.
I suppose this is true since I am here and not there. Although I can’t say that I’ve ever thought of myself as selfish. This statement feels a little like that game Fuck Marry Kill but the contestants are Donald Trump, Donald Trump, and Donald Trump. There's no good answer here.
Jackie Bisset and what is clearly the right body.
9. You have a sweet natural sex drive that brings you enormous pleasure. This deep gut sexuality may not be discernible to others immediately as it may have been placed in the “wrong” body (nobody is ever going to mistake you for Jackie Bisset), but it’s there.
Fear not, ladies, you too can have enormous pleasure even if you have an imperfect body. Boy, am I glad to hear that! I was worried that i might have to give all my orgasms back. Also, 'deep gut' and 'sexuality' should never be in the same sentence - or ever paragraph. Please and thank you.
10. You’re eccentric and not un-proud of being “different!”
So it's okay to be different, but not okay enough to be proud of it, just not un-proud? Helen also goes on to list these as ways of being eccentric: sleeping in a football team sweatshirt, vacuuming at 4 am, and eating salad with your fingers. It seems that it was quite easy to be eccentric in the 80’s – or at least by Helen’s standards.
11. You can keep a lot of things going at once. You can cope with more than one job, on love affair, love affair plus marriage (if that’s what you want), one close friendship, etc.
Wait. Hold on. This is true – but only because I have multiple jobs and close friends not because I have multiple loves or am married with a side-piece.
12. You have drive. You look tame, but there is this fierceness, the never quite giving up on a project, the willingness to put more in. Physically you are not stronger than other people. Your drive comes from your brain.
Guys, I’m really glad she clarified that drive comes from my -easily-intimidated-by-intellectuals brain and not from the physical strength that I don’t have.
13. While being impatient almost to the point of insanity about day-to-day trivia, you have patience for the long haul. You may have worked eight straight weeks on a television script, but you aren’t really shocked when nobody buys it. You will wear the bastards down!
While this statement rallies at the end with a slightly feminist leaning battle cry, I have to maintain that you should have enough faith in anything you are doing to be shocked and disappointed when it doesn’t succeed. Regardless, this one is false for me. I am an instant gratification seeker – to a fault.
14. You sometimes hurt. Your getting-hurt-by-a-man capacity is boundless (topless, bottomless, sideless, and backless!) but you’re also pretty good at being other kinds of hurt.
She does bring this one around by adding that the good side of this ability to feel hurt is our capacity for love. Aside from her insistence that the hurt mostly pertains to constantly being spurned by men – possibly because you're in the 'wrong body' – isn’t being hurt and feeling love pretty universal? I mean unless you’re a psychopath, which I don’t think I am. Maybe there are 17 questions to determine that somewhere too.
15. It’s hard to be casual about anything. “It doesn’t really matter, not REALLY!” you keep muttering to yourself when the job, the soufflé, the weekend plans are falling apart.
Full disclosure, I’ve never made a soufflé – and I’ve never been passive aggressive enough to mutter about disappointments. They tend to come out loud and clear.
16. Peculiar (to put it mildly!) as you are, you can’t think of anybody you’d rather be. Actually, you feel kind of extraordinary at times . . . different from the others, yes, but somehow, well – don’t laugh – better! You don’t want to change skins, you just want to “improve” the one you’re in. Mousy as you are, on certain days you even feel a sense of power, probably based on having done something well.
Did Helen also invent negging?
“Negging is an act of emotional manipulation whereby a person makes a deliberate backhanded compliment or otherwise flirtatious remark to another person to undermine their confidence and increase their need of the manipulator’s approval.”
17. You want it all, and are “willing to pay the price.” Let’s put it this way: Your basic mouseburger qualities – brains (though you’re not an intellectual), sensitivity and youth – are the cake mix. Add the hard work and you get a cake.
I have paid the price – $0.99 – and I’m going to bake myself a cake. But the ingredient of youth might be in short supply. I can only hope that the two cups of immaturity I've found in my bare cupboards will be an adequate substitute.
"If you answered “True” to at least ten of these seventeen possibilities, I think you and I are alike. If you answered “True” to even five, I may be able to help you." I answered true to a whopping nine of these statements – of course that’s if I admit that I’m in the wrong body, am a small forest animal, can balance a marriage and an affair, am selfish because I’m not in India, and that I paid for this book. I am a 1983 mouseburger and Helen Gurley Brown is going to be my guru.
Tune in next week as I tackle Chapter Two – How to “Mouseburger” Your Way to the Top. I can only assume that mouseburger is synonymous with sleep.
Video: Chasing the Midnight Sun
This past June I had the opportunity to travel to the Yukon to write an article for Freehub Magazine with Claire Buchar, Dylan Sherrard, and Jaime Hill. Videographer, Chris Grunberg, joined us and capture the magical adventure that we had.
Keep an eye out for the full story in the latest issue of Freehub.
This past June I had the opportunity to travel to the Yukon to write an article for Freehub Magazine with Claire Buchar, Dylan Sherrard, and Jaime Hill. Videographer, Chris Grunberg, joined us and capture the magical adventure that we had.
Keep an eye out for the full story in the latest issue of Freehub.
Depression - 6 Things That Helped Me
Eskapee.com gave me the opportunity to write a follow-up to my personal story - I Wanted to Die - that I wrote last year about depression.
"Two years ago I was trapped inside an emotional vacuum – neck deep, arms pinned relentlessly by my sides – that left me feeling detached from my body and adrift in my own misery. I was both consumed with grief and frantically attempting to outrun it; desperate for joy again in life but guilt-ridden at every brief moment I experienced it. And though I was in a place relatable to so many, my internal world left me feeling hopeless and alone.
Finally acknowledging that I was deeply depressed and having no idea how to get myself out of it, is what saved me. And today my world has less pain and more happiness."
You can read more on Eskapee.com.
#FuerzaMéxico
This morning I woke up to CBC news reports about the ongoing rescue efforts in Mexico for this most recent earthquake and the attempts being made to free a young girl who is trapped under the rubble of her school.
It brought back a flood of memories.
This morning I woke up to CBC news reports about the ongoing rescue efforts in Mexico for this most recent earthquake and the attempts being made to free a young girl who is trapped under the rubble of her school.
It brought back a flood of memories. When I was a kid we would listen to the radio every morning to hear the news. I had very little context for most of it as I had barely been out of Bamfield let alone off Vancouver Island.
When the earthquake happened in Mexico in 1985 I remember listening to the reports of the tragedy. We heard about another young girl who was trapped in the rubble and I remember every morning I would listen for news as they were desperately trying to rescue her.
I don't remember if she survived or not, but I remember identifying with her because we were about the same age. I had no concept of where in the world she was or that she was a different ethnicity - just that she was another kid just like me.
In the last thirty years, I’ve spent a lot of time in Mexico - enough that I refer to it as my second home and my friends there as family — even though my Spanish is still terrible. And in that time I’ve constantly been disappointed by how Mexico is represented in American - and Canadian - media. The stories reported always want to make Mexico the problem, but if you apply any type of intelligence to reading the article you quickly see that there is more to the story than the sensationalized headline and biased reporting.
To me, this is blatant and widespread racism. But for some reason, it goes unchecked.
Sadly, it’s usually in times of tragedy that we are best able to identify with others. Pain and suffering feel the same for everyone regardless of how or where you grew up. And it is in times like these that we can connect without borders or influence — or threats of walls.
Three years ago when my dad was in intensive care in a hospital in Morelia, we met an old Mexican man in the hallway of the hospital. My mom spoke to him in Spanish and he told us that his wife had suffered a heart attack and was also in the same ward. For the next week, whenever we saw each other we would hug. He and I couldn’t communicate verbally all that well, but it didn’t matter. That small bit of kindness made the pain I was feeling just a little more manageable in those moments.
We have the opportunity to extend compassion to the people of Mexico right now, but what I hope for most of all is that it will remain on a much broader scale and with more permanence for the future. And perhaps some of the reporters who have run with racially bias stories in the past and who are reporting on this earthquake now will question their motives — and the quality and impact of their work.
If you are looking for a way to help financially with the relief efforts in Mexico, this is one option; Cruz Roja Mexicana.
More on Mexico from my archives:
Wield Your Axe Carefully
I recently wrote about what I learned about my social media hiatus for Eskapee.com.
"So I took a month off social media and my world didn’t end. It didn’t even fall apart.
I have never bought into the idea that social media is inherently evil or the undoing of our society. Notwithstanding a basic knowledge of algorithms and user manipulation, I look at these platforms as tools – nothing more, nothing less. If you use an axe properly you’ll chop enough wood to keep you warm through the winter. But if you are careless, you might find yourself alone and bleeding out behind your hipster cabin. Facebook, used wisely, should be no different.
But was I using it wisely? It doesn’t control us, we control it. Right?"
Grandma Logan's Easter
For as long as my cousin's and I can remember, Easter has been the holiday we've anticipated the most. We are quite possibly the furthest thing from being a religious family - instead our holidays have always been based on tradition, all of which were created by our Grandma Logan.
For as long as my cousins and I can remember, Easter has been the holiday we've anticipated the most. We are quite possibly the furthest thing from being a religious family - instead our holidays have always been based on tradition, all of which were created by our Grandma Logan.
In the 1970's my grandparents purchased property at the head of Nitinat Lake on Vancouver Island; about an hour drive from Bamfield on the logging roads. This is where I have spent roughly twenty of my Easters. We had the usual traditions of painting eggs and hunting for candy. And as we grew up we would go through little rites of passage from being the chocolate hunter to the chocolate hider - from believing in to becoming to the Easter Bunny. And for most of those holiday visits to Grandma's cabin, I would happily binge on sugar before hitting the bumpy and windy road home - forgetting every time - as soon as the truck started my stomach would turn and I would be carsick. When it comes to chocolate, I'm not sure that I've even learned my lesson even now.
What made our Easters special, however, wasn't the candy or the Easter Bunny, or even being in nature - it was our Grandma Logan's tradition of stuffies. Every year since I can remember she would make stuffed animals for all her grandchildren (of all ages), her adopted grandchildren, and any friends we had brought along with us. Every year was a different theme and Grandma would gather us around to hear the story of how the animals came to be. One year it was a teddy bear picnic and another was whales displayed with a handpainted 'save the whales' protest sign. We took home polar bears, lizards, pigs, hippos, cats, and more. Grandma Logan lived a very humble life and so the material was usually purchased on sale or often donated to her - which is why one year we had blue and pink beavers. True to her usual creativity, she constructed a 'beaver dam' to display them and told us a story about how the beavers had been locked out of their house for the winter and were blue from hypothermia. We were instructed to take them home and warm them up with love!
When Grandma had a stroke a few years ago we thought that would be the end of our tradition, but it wasn't. Our Aunty Marion picked up where she left off. They even worked on the stuffies together on the last year that Grandma made them as her eyesight was starting to make sewing difficult. This year was our second Easter without Grandma Logan and it's impossible to get through this holiday without feeling the hole in our family, but with her passing our family has drawn even closer. When we lost the one person who pulled us together I thought that we would all scatter, but it turns out that none of us wanted to give up her traditions. I can't help but think wherever she is, she's satisfied with the mark she made on this earth and the fact that her love is continuing even in her absence.
Spreading the Love
I have been a minority amongst my friends for most of my adult life because I love Valentine’s Day. I don’t complain about it being a Hallmark holiday or dismiss it as being too materialistic (while trying to find storage for one more bike, one more sled, or one more sport-specific Gortex jacket), instead I wholeheartedly embrace a day devoted to love. I have to admit that I think when people join the trend of hating on it, they are just being lazy. And what’s up with that argument about not needing a special day to tell people that you love them? I call bullshit on that excuse too. I believe that you can embrace the essence of the day without spending a dime, but then again, I was educated about February 14th by a witch.
I have been a minority amongst my friends for most of my adult life because I love Valentine’s Day. I don’t complain about it being a Hallmark holiday or dismiss it as being too materialistic (while trying to find storage for one more bike, one more sled, or one more sport-specific Gortex jacket), instead I wholeheartedly embrace a day devoted to love. I have to admit that I think when people join the trend of hating on it, they are just being lazy. And what’s up with that argument about not needing a special day to tell people that you love them? I call bullshit on that excuse too. I believe that you can embrace the essence of the day without spending a dime, but then again, I was educated about February 14th by a witch.
Even though I didn’t have Hallmark, overstuffed apes holding giant hearts, or waxy chocolate in heart-shaped boxes as a kid, inside the little three-room schoolhouse in Bamfield that I attended, Valentine’s Day was not dissimilar to what kids experience elsewhere. We made and decorated little ‘mailboxes’ for our desks and exchanged cards with cheesy messages. The only difference was a tradition that had been going on in our community for decades. Every year we would get called into an assembly and presented with a package that had been ‘found’ in the schoolyard addressed from Belinda the Valentine’s Day Witch (I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t go over so well these days). Inside would be a heart-shaped cookie for every student – about 80 – with our names handwritten on them in icing. There would also be a letter that described Belinda’s adventures from the previous year. I can only remember the details of one and it talked about how she and her raccoon friend had flown over Vancouver and were surprised to find a giant golf ball – this description of Expo ’86 was the closest some of us got to actually experiencing it.
Now if it isn’t clear already, Belinda was a fictional character. And this story is as much a defence of my love for Valentine’s Day as it is a tribute to my grandma who passed away last year. It was a coming of age for many generations of youth in Bamfield to discover that Belinda the Valentine’s Day Witch was actually Grandma Ardie. And this passage into adulthood usually came well after the truth about Santa and the Easter Bunny. For her, creating this beautiful tradition was an expression of love for our community and about giving what she could. Through years of poverty, she always found ways to be generous – sometimes just with her time, and that was enough for all of us to feel loved.
Belinda’s presence in our lives taught us that Valentine’s Day wasn’t a day about being accepted or chosen, about eating fancy dinners or getting expensive gifts, it was about inclusion, friendship, tradition, and community. She created a day that wasn’t about bad last minute drugstore gifts or the disappointment of being single for just one day a year; instead she created a want in all of us to meaningfully express our love to everyone in our community – and this is often more effort than buying an expected box of mass-produced chocolates.
I still think that when someone dismisses the big V-Day as ‘just a Hallmark holiday,’ they are being lazy, because even if Hallmark created it (which they didn’t) – why be so sour about a day devoted to love? Pick up the phone and call a friend, bake some cookies for someone nice, mail a card to your parents, whatever it is, use the day as a reminder to celebrate the people who make your life special. And when you do actually do these things every day, then I will let up. But until then use Valentine’s Day as a reminder to celebrate everyone in your community, not just the ones you’re sleeping with.
Rostros de mi segundo hogar: The Completion
When I arrived in Mexico earlier this month I hung over one hundred photos at the local taquería for the people who live in the village of Barra de Potosi to have. I called the project 'Rostros de mi segundo hogar (Faces from my second home)'. While technology like cell phones is prevalent here as a means of doing business, printed images are still highly valued as a luxury.
The images hung with this message:
If you see a photo of yourself, your family, or a friend, please take it home or give it as a gift. Thank you for sharing beautiful Barra de Potosi with my family! Merry Christmas.
Hola! Si encuentras una foto tuya, o de un amigo o familiar, por favor tómala o entrégala como regalo. Gracias por compartir Barra de Potosi con mi familia. ¡Feliz Navidad!
When I returned to the taquería after Christmas all but a few photos had been claimed and when I road my bike into the village today I was greeted by people who were thrilled with their photos - including my favourite fruit lady!
The project was so sucessful that I plan to do it again next year and have already started collecting images for it.
A 'Mayor' and His Donkey
This man is affectionately called 'The Mayor of Ferellones'; a small village that connection to Barra de Potosi where my family lives. Two years ago I took this photo of him riding his donkey, they were inseparable. As part of my Rostros de mi segundo hogar (Faces from My Second Home) project I printed this image to hang at the local taqueria.
This man is affectionately referred to as the 'Mayor of Ferellones'; a small village adjacent to Barra de Potosi where my family lives. Two years ago I took this photo of him riding his donkey, they were inseparable. As part of my Rostros de mi segundo hogar (Faces from My Second Home) project I printed this image to hang at the local taqueria this month.
As we sorted through over a hundred prints taken over the last decade last night in preparation for the display, we reminisced about many of the people in them. Some have grown up, some have moved away, and some have passed on. When my mom got to this image she stopped. She told me that this past year the 'Mayor' and his donkey had ventured to a lagoon deep in the bush behind Ferellones. After tying his donkey to a tree he went about his business (I'm not sure why he was there), but in doing so he disturbed a group of killer bees who attacked both of them. Unable to escape the donkey was killed, the man narrowly avoided death by submersing himself in the water - he still spent many days in the hospital.
The 'Mayor' is still grieving the loss of his constant companion and, despite his own near death experience, he feels responsible for the demise of his donkey - "if only I hadn't tied him up."
Being able to give this man, who has no photos, an image of them together will be an honour - it is just one example of why this project is so important to me.
2016 Disposable Rampage
This was my fourth year covering the behind the scenes of Red Bull Rampage for Pinkbike.com. Going into the event there is always a mix of excited about seeing history made as the boundaries of what's possible in mountain biking are broken, but also apprehension about safety and fair treatment of our friends. This year Red Bull came the closest ever to closing the gap when they worked with feedback from the athletes and participated in our industry rather than exploiting the talents in it. From that perspective it was an incredible year - despite injury and our absent McGazza.
Below are the images from my disposable cameras behind the scenes.
Here are the links to the coverage I produced with our talented Pinkbike.com team:
The Bakery: Stepping Up to Find Stolen Bikes
A report released earlier this year stated that Vancouver residents alone had reported over 10,000 bike thefts in just 4.5 years. The Internet is full of statistics on bike theft – worldwide, a bike is stolen every 90 seconds and only 2.4% are returned to their owners. The question now is not so much if your bike will be stolen, but when.
According to the Vancouver Police Department’s website, in the summer months an average of nine bikes are stolen every day – an average of 2000 every year. ‘On the flipside, the VPD recovers roughly 2000 bicycles in a year. Unfortunately, the majority of them will never be returned to their owners, as their serial numbers have not been reported to police, making them untraceable. These bikes will end up at auction, but we'd rather return them to their rightful owners.’