Swimsuit Competition

Happy Valentine's Day.

Did you know that the average person spends between $90 and $100 on Valentine's remembrances? Candy, jewelry, cards, flowers, swimsuit issues.

Yes, this is the week that Sports Illustrated's famous (or is that infamous?) swimsuit issue hits the stands.

I've never really understood the whole swimsuit issue thing. Oh yes, the magazine may argue that the girls are athletic. But, all I see is long hair, white teeth, big boobs, skinny thighs and a whole lot of flesh. In many cases, the swimsuit is hardly there. In some, it isn't there at all. A fairly recent titillating trend is to paint the suit onto the model's naked body. Suffice it to say, there's not much left to the imagination.

What's the connection? In theory, I guess, a woman could wear one of the featured suits to swim or surf or play beach volleyball.

In reality, the magazine is catering to its audience. After a 51 week diet of hard-core sports coverage, they deserve a little dessert.

Still, the timing seems off. Not only because it's a holiday that's supposed to be about romance and true love. But really, isn't there something a little more sports-oriented going on this week? Like maybe ... oh, I don't know ... the Winter Olympics. Hello???

So, as usual, when I heard that this year's cover was being unveiled, I rolled my eyes. (My teenage daughter has taught me well.) "Which bodacious blonde will be the cover model?" The anticipation was killing me.

Turns out, the cover nodded to another male fantasy: the threesome. Not one, not two, but a trilogy of girls and their — shall we say — admirable assets on display for all to see. The models look about 19 years old. What else is new?

I was about to get on with my work when a sidebar story caught my eye. 'Turns out there's an alternate cover and an alternate, much older, cover girl.

Barbie.

Wow, why didn't anyone think of this before? It's a match made in heaven. 

Barbie is plastic
Barbie is busty
Barbie has an unrealistic (dare I say unnatural) figure
And under all that blonde hair, Barbie's head is empty

Actually, Barbie as swimsuit model is a lot more believable than most of the other careers Mattel has given her over the decades. Maybe I'm guilty of reverse discrimination. Surely it's possible that a woman who looked like Barbie could be a pilot or a veterinarian, a racecar driver or an astronaut. To underscore this point, Mattel asserts that Barbie herself is the victim of a massive smear campaign, focusing on her looks. The theme is "unapologetic," as in "I'm Barbie and I ain't gonna apologize for my 52 inch chest and 14 inch waist anymore, dammit!" Get over yourself, girl.

Oh. Sorry, Barbie. 

Don't get me wrong. We had plenty of Barbies in the house when my daughter was little. She called them "Mommies" (and yes, some tiny little part of me was flattered by that, although I did find out later that she needed glasses). The smaller Kelly dolls were the "Sweeties." 

Well, as you can imagine, people take their swimsuit issues (and their $3 billion fashion dolls) very seriously. 

According to Mattel, the clever cover celebrates "some of the world's most famous swimsuit legends — like Barbie — who have gone on to break boundaries, build empires and shape culture ... Barbie is in great company with the other legends, such as (actress-models) Heidi Klum and Christie Brinkley, to name a few." 

As if this explanation weren't enough, Sports Illustrated adds that Barbie fits in with the swimsuit issues' "message of empowerment" for women.

Now I get it. The swimsuit issue is all about empowering women. I thought it was all about arousing men. My bad.

I'm a feminist by anybody's estimation. I could get all hot and bothered about body image and objectification. But, I'm not going to. Barbie and the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue; the combination doesn't bother me. I actually think it's funny. 

Or a little bit redundant.

If you enjoyed this post, I invite you to order a copy of my new book Lovin' the Alien at www.lovinthealien.com.   

My Funny Valentine

Roses are red, 
Violets are blue,
If it has sentimental value,
I'm keeping it too.

I'm a notorious pack rat (although, for the record, I prefer the term "archivist"). I have every English paper I ever wrote from seventh grade on. I have my Girl Scout badge sash. I have dozens of photo albums, postcards and love letters (most of them are from my husband). 

And, being a devoted mother, I have all of the valentines my daughter has ever given me.

These include many one-of-a-kind masterpieces of the homemade grade school variety. Some are cut-outs, some have pictures, some have doilies glued on, many have spelling ... um ... imperfections. There were a couple of years in preschool when my daughter wrote in perfect mirror writing. At a conference with her teacher, I asked about it.

"Is it because she's left-handed?"

The teacher looked puzzled for a minute. "Is what because she's left-handed?"

"The mirror writing."

"She writes backwards?" the teacher asked.

I pulled out everything (I mean everything!) my daughter had done in class for the past year and showed her. The woman laughed.

"Oh, I don't even notice that anymore. They all do it."

Let me digress for a moment and point out that writing backwards is no easy task. (Unless you're Stanley Kubrick. Redrum, redrum.) For the record, my daughter who is nearly fifteen-and-a-half now, did outgrow that particular gift. 

But she is happy to be a nonconformist in other areas.

One year (second grade maybe?), the teacher had the kids create individual mailboxes in which they would collect valentines from their classmates. The assignment was to build them out of different geometric shapes. My daughter was going through a horse phase at the time (oh wait! that wasn't a phase ...), and she was quite determined to create a horse mailbox. We used an up-ended shoe box (rectangle) for the equine's neck and taped an oatmeal box (cylinder) to the top for the head. We cut a slit in the circular bottom of the oatmeal container so that kids could sort of "feed" the horse their cards. Then we covered the whole thing in kraft paper, glued on folded ears, googly eyes and a yarn mane. It was a great success, and it's on display in her bedroom today with that year's valentines still in it. (Now that I think about it, I should probably check inside. There may have been some lollipops and conversation hearts in there. Hmmm ... Wonder what the statute of edible limitations is on those?)

It's been a while since I've had a homemade card, but in honor of Valentine's Day, I'm creating something special for my sweetheart of a daughter. A poem. 

Here it is:

Roses are red, violets are blue,

Someday, you'll have a teenager too.

Pansies are pink, carnations are white,

Once in a while, you'll probably fight.

Daisies are yellow, grasses are green,

You'll come and say, "Mom, now I know what you mean!"

Marigolds are orange, planted in a row,

And I'll try not to say, "I told you so."

Happy Valentine's Day to you and your alien.

Happy Valentween's Day!

Today is February 14th. It's Valentine's Day. Tonight, my daughter and husband will each receive a box of chocolates and a homemade card. There's a good chance I'll get a pair of earrings, but I won't get roses. My spouse is adamantly opposed to paying inflated prices for flowers because of a so-called "Hallmark holiday." He would, so he tells me, rather surprise me with them all year long. (Nice thought, right? In fairness to him, he used to bring me flowers on a fairly regular basis. But, these days, between working and parenting and all the crazies that go along with both, I feel like Barbra Streisand, if you catch my drift.)

As with everything else, once you have a child, Valentine's Day becomes more and more about them and less and less about you. For several years, we made and decorated little mailboxes so that my daughter could collect valentines at school. In this day and age of politically correct fairness, each child brings home a complete list of the children in their class. They have to bring in a valentine for every single person on that list. Even the bullies, even the nerds, even their secret crush and their ex-best friend who no longer talks to them. If Janis Ian was writing "At Seventeen" now, she would have to find new lyrics. In today's classrooms, nobody knows "the pain of valentines that never came."

One year, recognizing that the days of frilly dresses and tea parties were numbered, I offered to throw a Valentine's Day party for my daughter and a half dozen of her friends. Our dining room was decked out in floor-to-ceiling pink and red. There were beads to string and cupcakes to decorate. And, being a thrifty mother as well as an affectionate one, I threw the party on the Saturday after Valentine's Day. All those hearts and streamers and little candies with the sayings on them ... half-price!

But, it's been a while since my daughter dressed up, or since we cut and signed and folded 24 Power Puff girl valentines. So, I thought that on this day dedicated to l-o-v-e, I would write about all the things that my now tween daughter dotes upon.

Here, in no particular order, is a little red foil chocolate box of what lights up my daughter's life:

Mozzarella Sticks

Yes, they're strips of fat that are then fried in fat. But, they are ooey, gooey delicious. Confession: sometimes when her father is out with his buddies or at a late meeting, I'll agree to forego any nutritional value whatsoever and serve mozzarella sticks for dinner. "Thank you so-o-o-o-o-o-o-o much, Mom! You're the best!"

Yessirree, it buys me a lot of credit — for about an hour.

Texting

Whether there's something earth-shattering to report, or whether there isn't. It doesn't matter. The way girls of my era loved talking on the phone, that's how much today's tween and teen girls love to text. And, I guess this is appropriate for the holiday. Have you looked at the average 14-year old's texts? They look an awful lot like conversation hearts. "R U THERE?" "U R GR8!" "LUV YA"

Teen TV

The New Yorker recently published a story about what they called a "quiet renaissance in children's television." Um, right. Too bad we missed it. When I think of the programs on my daughter's current DVR schedule, "renaissance" is not exactly the first (or the ten thousandth) word that comes to mind. Let's see there's "trashy" and "ridiculous," but not "renaissance." Of course, you are welcome to see for yourself. Next time you're in the mood for some deep, intellectual stuff, check out The Lying Game and Pretty Little Liars.

Converse All-Stars

Here's a little logic for you. If one pair of Converse All-Stars is good. And, two pairs of Converse All-Stars are great. What are five pairs of Converse All-Stars? Supermegafoxyawesomehot! Yes, that is a direct quote. And, I know, I know, I'm an enabler. On a recent trip to New York City, we invested (I won't say "wasted" — I'll think it, but I won't say it) quite a bit of time wandering around Times Square looking for the Converse super store. Turns out it's in Soho.

Boys

And it begins. Well, not quite but it's getting closer. Short of a couple of so-called "dates" at Dunkin' Donuts after school, my daughter and her friends have not started obsessing about the boys in their grade. Not yet. Instead, they obsess about the boys on TV, the boys in magazines, the boys in bands. They talk about them (a lot) and give each other sage advice. I look at the whole thing as a warm-up for the big event that's looming: high school.

There are lots of other things on my daughter's love list: her new horse, raw chocolate chip cookie dough, the extremely cool health ed teacher, her friends from camp, worn-in Hollister jeans, our ancient dachshund, brightly colored Sugar Lips tank tops, a particular iPhone game called "Surviving High School." When she loves, she loves truly, madly, deeply, with an intensity of purpose that would put Juliet and her Romeo to shame. Eventually, she will put all this passion to use.

For now, I'll end with a quote from an over-the-top romantic movie: Moulin Rouge. "The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return." Mozzarella sticks aside, my daughter knows how to love.

And, in case you haven't figured it out yet, she is very much loved in return.

Happy Valentine's Day!