A letter from the future: fuggedabout it!

Write a letter to my 20-ish year old self?

Are you kidding?  you obviously never met ‘crazy’.

I’m no Marty Mc Fly, and even if I were, why would I want to stop all the ruinous fun that contributed to the smashing result typing this entry in 2015?

So Instead I’ll write to my “2015” self from the present, since I’m reminded each day, in so many excruciating ways, that I still have much to learn.


This wisdom is attributable to the old hacks I know. Hanging out with them has benefits. Aside from the fact that they’re cheap dates, I’ve learned so much from my delicious Yodas and Yentas. 


By the time, you can safely rock that violet rinse, that artificial veneer has worn thinner than the skin atop of Madonna’s hands. As a result, like Dorothy Zbornak from The Golden Girls, you cannot help but dish up “the truth” and that’s a good thing. (Research shows suppression can lead to a higher intake of carbs and crippling credit card debt.)

But be cautioned: no matter how much butter and sugar you pour over it, it still may not go down well.

But, hey, at least some day you’ll be able to blame it on dementia.

Battle-axes take note: Speaking your truth doesn’t include the compulsion to ram your hard earned “wisdom” down everyone’s throat.



Like Gloria Gaynor, you’ll also survive. You’ll survive the rejection and the shame.

You’ll even survive those insanely painful bitch blocks (even from your daughter in law). If you forgot the painful social conditioning of middle and high school, the bitch block is when you get the hoof, and you’re forced to forage alone.


We all remember what happened to Mrs. Jones (and Mrs. Robinson). And as we know Mr. Jones doesn’t give a damn either, so do as Donny Brasco said and “fuggedabout it!”

You’ll seldom impress anyone, and you sure can’t please everyone, so you may as well aim to please numero uno.

Dear feet: Someday we shall replace the hemorrhaging Louboutins with a sensible pair of orthopedic rubber soled shoes.


As the best-selling pop psych Richard Carlson wrote: “Don’t sweat the small stuff.” Once you’ve survived all those hot flashes, you’ll have no desire to sweat at all, least of all about the banalities:

  • Your kid is unlikely to be abducted, so it’s not worth forking out $1000 to install a microchip behind his left ear.
  • Sadly, your kid is also just as unlikely to be the next musical prodigy, so drop the Tiger Mom routine. Let the nipper ditch the viola and play
    fun tiger mom
    Be this Tiger Mom!

    in the dirt and sunshine, before life hands him a mortgage, 2.5 kids, and your daughter in law.

  • Your child doesn’t need the latest gadget. He only needs your undivided attention, along with gruel and water (preferably twice a day).
  • Developmental and educational milestones were designed by men in white coats to mess with your mind. That kid is going to be “yours” for exactly a Nano-second. Make it count.


like Unicorns, perfect thighs, don’t exist

If you spend your time chasing perfection, you’ll miss out on all the cool stuff.



Stop making lists, ticking boxes, and looking at your phone. Pay attention to what is going on this beautiful, crazy world around you, or you won’t experience the heart-achingly beautiful moments that make the whole shebang worth the dizzying ride.


Do as the public service announcement says.

Don’t squander your time on people and things that:

a) Aren’t required to contribute to your immediate survival, or

b) Don’t make your heart purr.


Always: Try new stuff. Meet new people. Stay inquisitive. Learn. Listen.  Once stasis sets in you may as well dial 911 and ask them to send over a body bag.

To err is human, but to absolve yourself, absof…..lutely  divine.

Guilt is part of your birthright along with reproduction, hormones,  menopause, and cellulite. And as the Mad Men (and Women) on Madison Avenue get paid a fortune to remind you: you’ll never be pretty enough, skinny enough, young enough, or good enough. And unlike Sean Connery or George Clooney you will probably never be compared to well-fermented grapes.


Don’t torture yourself unnecessarily:

Don’t volunteer for the PTA. Avoid changing rooms (buy everything on appro).

Start collecting a beautiful assortment of scarves (Thank you, Nora Ephron).


Always remember: tomorrow is another day (if you’re lucky). So use your Ritzenhoff mugs, be kind, stay honest, have fun, and then just Fuggedabout it!



A real dame never reveals her age. Instead, she leaves Google and Co. do it for her. (Thanks in advance.)

[1] Featured Image (poster) and Marty McFly are from the Back to the Future movie trilogy (1985, 1989 and 1990).

[2] Yoda was the loveable character from Star Wars that trained and mentored the Jedi. A yenta is a Yiddish name for an old meddler or gossiper (like “Yenta” from Fiddler on The Roof (1971). I use the term affectionately to refer to an older Jewish woman.

[3] The Golden Girls. US Sitcom that aired from 1985 to 1992 about four older women living together in a house in Miami.  Here is the Best of Dorothy (played by Bea Arthur). (Video compiled by Durrell Comedy.) Will make you giggle:

[4] Donnie Brasco, 1997 film starring Al Pacino and Johnny Depp.

[5] Reference to Mrs. Jones inspired by the song “Me and Mrs. Jones“. According the good folks at Wikipedia, Me and Mrs. Jones is “a 1972 soul song written by Kenny Gamble, Leon Huff, and Cary Gilbert. Originally recorded by Billy Paul, that describes an extramarital affair between a man and his lover, Mrs. Jones. Worth a listen.  

Reference to Mrs. Robinson is to the fictional character from the 1967 film The Graduate, starring the late Anne Bancroft, and Dustin Hoffman.

[6] Don’t sweat the small stuff (1997) book by the late Richard Carlson.

[ 7] Reference to a Tiger Mom based on Amy Chua’s 2011 memoir “Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother.”

[8] The term “appro” means to take goods home “on approval” so you can try them before you buy them.

[9] Nora Ephron “I Feel Bad About My Neck: And Other Thoughts on being a Woman. (2008)”

[10] Black and white photo of Little girl dancing on her daddy’s feet. Credit to Danielle. Click here to visit: Danielle’s Flickr Page.