The article, published in Psychology Today, is titled “Ahead of the Curves” and the brilliant tagline? “Men know something vital about women’s body shapes that women don’t. Plus: How big hips make wise women.”

It is six pages long and features illustrations of women who look more like playmates than the women who have the aforementioned “big hips” and are “wise” because of it. One of the illustrations boasts a sexy blonde wearing a pastel-pretty bra and tight briefs. She is pursing her red lips — ready to kiss! She is rather revolting and her hips, well, they certainly are not wise.

That alone is irritating but this is the part that really makes me question my taste in literature: This lengthy article is written by two men.

Their respective names and impressive education are listed in very small font. I wondered: How can these two men possibly educate and enlighten women on their sex appeal and bodies? Well, they certainly gave it a good shot. But not good enough.

The first paragraph states that “American males, it has been calculated, spend some $3 billion a year to gaze at women with hourglass figures, those whose small waists blossom into sinuously curvy hips.”

My first thought? Where does this “calculation” come from? Furthermore, how does gazing at women connect to “$3 billion a year?” They don’t explain this. Maybe men take time off work to gawk at women? Unlikely.

I have to give credit where credit is due: They do include research done by the late Deborah Sing — 20 years ago. This is the only mention of a female contribution to the piece and does not extend past one measly paragraph which tells the eager reader: “. . .Men all around the world. . .Prefer a similar shape.”

We are then told that when men view a curvy woman their brains respond in a similar fashion to cocaine and heroin. Hmm. That’s a strange statement with no research provided to the reader.

Even so, the following paragraph takes the cake:

Even a thin woman carries an astonishing amount of fat in her legs and hips–about a third of her body weight. Men everywhere admire the fat located here. . .Only bears ready to hibernate, penguins facing a sunless winter without food, or whales swimming in the arctic waters have fat percentages that approach those in normal, healthy, trim young women.

Well, that’s lovely! Female readers have now been compared to bears, penguins and whales. Furthermore, the word “astonishing” used in relation to our apparent “fat” probably does not make us smile. I am currently grimacing.

For diversity’s sake (or perhaps the editor was concerned about backlash from readers) a few paragraphs are devoted to explaining that American women are in dire need of more omega-3s.

Unfortunately, I believe more women have read this article than men. The pages are laced with bright pink script. I kid you not. Literature like this confuses both genders and, in my humble and currently sarcastic opinion, the size of my hips does not make me “wise.” And neither did reading this article.

Reference

Lassek, W. & Gaulin, S. (2012, August). Ahead of the curves. Psychology Today, 45(4), 74-77.

It was a healthy mix of educated and eccentric people and it was an interesting place to work. The three years I spent there gave me a curious perspective on office etiquette.

I shook a lot of hands during these years. Trust me when I tell you it becomes tiresome stating your name and offering your hand (dousing it in Lysol afterwards) many times a day.  The lawyers had strong handshakes (the criminal lawyers had a hard time letting go); the mediators less so.

Therapists seem to smile more or, on a bad day, grimace while photocopying or drinking the awful coffee I had made.

The social workers needed more sleep; they would tell me this, elbows rested on my large corner desk, while I worked hard to listen. It was my social obligation, after all.

But it was not the numerous handshakes (and probable colds resulting from them) that made me question office etiquette. It was the simple question, “how are you?” or any variation of this question.

I have always wondered what would happen if I had been honest.

Picture this:

I am sitting in my office-appropriate-orthopedic-chair and in walks one of our clients. Let’s refer to him as Client A.

Client A, an impeccably dressed lawyer, asks me, “Good Morning! How are you?” and he waits for my obligatory and socially acceptable reply. Something like “Very well, and yourself?” We might then comment on the weather, the status of the broken printer, perhaps what was on television last night. Acceptable things.

But what if my reply was utterly-no-holds-barred honest? I might have stated:

“Oh, you know. I’m okay. My partner and I had a huge fight last night which resulted in my devouring large amounts of chocolate and him sleeping on the couch. Also, I think I gained a few pounds.”

That’s probably a bit too much information. What about something simple? Something human? What if I was having a rough time, life was not being kind to me, and I replied:

“I’m feeling a little down, but it’ll pass.”

Client A would certainly be surprised — honesty is a dying art form — but would he reply with empathy or just consider me strange? It’s an interesting paradox and one that is not often challenged.

And, come to think of it, maybe it should remain this way. Can you imagine sitting down with your supervisor and telling him or her that you certainly do deserve a raise because you have suffered three respiratory infections this year based on the perpetual handshaking within the office?

Sarcasm aside, office etiquette keeps things rolling smoothly but the psychology behind it is interesting.

The next time someone asks you how your day is going, do an experiment: Be honest. If nothing else, it will liven things up.

Image of marketing insights by Shutterstock.

I recall the first time I encountered a computer — it really was an encounter as the machine looked rather frightening to my 10-year-old eyes. It was grey and weighed at least 25 pounds. It took what felt like forever (minutes — in its later years, hours) to load.

And it made a strange ticking noise, a repetitive sound not unlike the clock that hung in our living room, or the motion of my foot hitting the side of the metal desk as I waited for the noise the machine made once the screen finally appeared. I loved that noise. If the computer could talk I was certain it was telling me, whispering among the ticking, Welcome Home, Natalie! Enjoy your stay!

It was 1995. My two siblings and I fought over that large machine, forcing my parents to give us each an allotted amount of time. We cried and we kicked once 30 minutes had passed, 45 minutes if the gods were smiling down on us or my mother was taking a nap.

When I was 14 years old I found immense pleasure in setting up an alias online, entering a chat room, and pretending I was psychic. I predicted, tapping away at the keyboard, great fame and fortune for dozens of anonymous people… Even if it wasn’t completely honest, it was fun.

This was before technology captured and completely enraptured my teenage years. This was before cell phones and iPads and everything made by Apple, Inc. Technology was still a fantastic novelty.

Reality television had yet to dominate the time many people had previously spent reading (actual paper books!) and eating family dinner at a table, the children arguing and squirming as children do. Maybe those were the good old days, before writing became my sole vocation and left me staring at my laptop screen eight hours each day.¹

In contrast to my experience, growing up alongside Bill Gates and wireless Internet, my father recalls a much different time. And when he does, his eyes glass over, he smiles slightly, and he tells me about a simpler time. My father grew up on a farm in Edmonton, Alberta, where he was taught how to kill his own dinner and catch the mice that populated the stacks of hay. I cringe when he tells me this — but he remembers this time fondly.

He tells me, while I am checking listings on eBay, that the best years in his life occurred sitting in front of a radio. Yes, a radio. He has a picture of it and I can only describe this single photograph as ancient-looking: black and white, the edges curled and yellowed. The radio itself looks archaic; the antenna nearly reaching the ceiling.

The entire family, once per week, huddled together near the fireplace and listened eagerly to the infamous Hockey Night in Canada. Sure, they had television — a few channels — and watched scratchy black and white cartoons, but it was the radio that mattered. The simplicity of it and what it represented: time spent with family and with friends.

Having heard this story once again, I wondered if perhaps a life defined by technology, social networking and television was lacking in something. Lacking in life.

I briefly considered writing an article focused on the impact of social networking and then realized that in order to do this it would require a large amount of social networking. Much too ironic, I concluded.

So I made things simple: I closed my laptop, unplugged the television, placed my iPad in my nightstand drawer and waited. I lasted exactly thirty-four hours and immediately realized that technology — for better or for worse — has a large place in our lives. But listening to my father talk about life before my wireless keyboard, well, that must have been pretty nice.

Old radio photo available from Shutterstock

1. I am certain there will be a massive class-action lawsuit based on strange eye afflictions directly caused by computers.

I’m not a huge fan of the holiday season. When I was 19, I worked in a grocery store. I’m pretty sure my relative disdain for the season started while working a cash register between aisles of Santa-shaped chocolates and overpriced eggnog. I tolerated the crowds of people who purchased produce and cookies and I smiled, my irritation level peaking each time I was asked if the store sold organic carrots.

The customer, after all, is always right.

But the dreadful repetition of Christmas music drove me to surrender my apron midway through December.

My experience aside, many people look forward to the holiday season. We relish cherished time with family and with friends, fantastic food, time off from work and the giving and receiving of gifts. It’s a time when children smile and shake the gifts under the tree. Pretty great, right?

I hate be somber, but these things often lead to a holiday hangover. Unfortunately, twelve glasses of water, an aspirin and time in bed won’t cut it.

So here are some tips — sarcasm included! — to get back on track:

• Ban Christmas music. Hide Christmas CDs in a drawer and listen to something else. Frank Sinatra or Miles Davis, Metallica or Eminem, CNN or Howard Stern. Anything else.
• Do not look at your credit card bills for one week, or as long as possible. Buying gifts for those we care for is always fun (well, usually) but sometimes we get carried away. I’m not sure my mother needed two pairs of pajamas, matching slippers, a bathrobe and three types of exfoliating body wash.
• Take a couple of days to unwind. My family always has half the neighborhood over Christmas Eve. People play guitar, my lovely mother sings Neil Young and halfway through the night I hide in the spare room. Time with family and friends is great, it’s healthy, but once the holidays are over we need some time to unwind. Read a book while wearing your pajamas, drinking tea and finishing off the chocolate and turkey.
• Leave the Christmas tree up. That’s right, leave it up, at least until the New Year. Often, amid the chaos of Christmas, we don’t really get a chance to enjoy it. You can skip this step if you own pets that have holiday fun eating the tree and everything on it. My cat has a penchant for candy canes and my dog enjoys eating the artificial branches, lights and all.
• Pick a day to do some holiday cleaning. This is similar to spring cleaning but involves shiny paper, bits and pieces of tinsel, leftover food and sometimes relatives who are staying a bit longer than planned.
• Gear up to get back to work. Whether you are going back to work before the New Year or after, it’s important to get back into the swing of things. Holidays are a disruption to our schedule: our sleep pattern changes, as does our level of socialization and our eating habits. Ease yourself back into life.
• Exercise. Exercise not with the goal of losing the weight gained from boxes of chocolate and gravy (save that for New Year’s if you must) but because we often exercise less during the holiday season. Exercise helps to regulate our lives and schedule.
• Secretly organize and consider ‘re-gifting.’ This is optional (and perhaps in bad taste?). Gather the gifts that you may already own or just don’t like. Mentally thank the person — this eradicates possible guilt — that presented them to you. Place them in your closet and next year give them to someone else.
• After New Year’s take some time to reflect on your life. New Year’s Eve is sort of like the icing on an overly-decorated cake. Right when we start to get back into the swing of things, New Year’s kicks our lives back into high gear. Whether you celebrated it quietly, or celebrated it in large company, spend the time following reflecting on the year and the year ahead.

When all is said and done, the New Year having passed and the tree having been packed away, it’s time to get back to life. Like any bad hangover, give it some time: life moves on. Enjoy it. Relish in the ‘normal’ parts of life — before Halloween reminds you that the holiday season is right around the corner.

Sarcasm aside, try a few of these out and if all else fails, well, try a long nap and aspirin.

This time I was left waiting. Children screamed and people who may be as impatient as I am moved their legs up and down rapidly. Everyone made a socially concerted effort not to look at each other.

I decided to settle in and read. At the rate the room was moving — sort of like a turnover rate at a bad job — it was clear I had at least 30 minutes longer to wait.

I have always found ‘literature’ in doctors’ offices disconcerting, though equally fascinating. After all, where can you find a magazine on parenting (a beautiful woman is holding a golden-haired toddler) and a celebrity magazine (apparently, Angelina Jolie has adopted five children from Nigeria) sitting side by side?

I noticed a brochure rack across the room, near the receptionist station, full of white and blue pamphlets. It always feels sort of weird getting up in a room full of people sitting down, but I made my way across the room with intent, avoiding people’s shoes and a toddler who had planted himself nearby. It contained the usual assortment of literature: six tips to live a healthy life, fascinating tips on how to get 30 minutes of exercise in each day and a guide to drinking more water.

Arranged in the same area, I found pamphlets on recognizing the symptoms of depression, bipolar disorder and schizophrenia and, to my complete surprise, a bleach-white brochure with the words “Understanding Psychosis” in bold and black text. Last time I was stuck in the office I read the pamphlets on getting enough calcium and the increase in cervical cancer among women under 30 years old.

I grabbed the brochure and walked slowly — the toddler had yet to move — back to my seat. It contained a first-person account written by a man who had lived with periodic psychosis and was now recovered. The symptoms of psychosis and their connection to other serious mental illness such as bipolar disorder and schizophrenia was included. But I wondered, did it make sense to have it in the waiting room, sitting beside the pamphlets on arthritis and increasing your fiber intake?

I decided to ask my doctor how he felt about mental illness creeping through societal cracks and into his sterile office. As a woman living with bipolar disorder, I feel it is long overdue. But what might he think, as a practicing physician who may not be familiar with psychosis? After all, it is usually a term, a diagnosis, associated with psychiatry.

My name was finally called and I soon found myself in his office. I will spare you the details of my appointment. I did not walk out with a prescription to cure me, no, I had a cold. Just like half of those sitting in the waiting room. He stood up, a signal for me to do the same, but I remained in my chair and pulled the brochure out my purse.

I asked him, point blank, how he felt about mental illness becoming more mainstream and handed him the brochure on psychosis.

He looked at it, and then back at me, and said simply: “Natalie, it’s about time people become educated on mental illness. I was not aware we had these in the clinic, but I’m damn happy we do.”

And so am I.

“When tempers need to be controlled… Why be irritated? Light an Old Gold!”

Times certainly have changed. Societal views on cigarettes, and toward those who smoke them, have been flipped upside-down. Smokers are segregated. They must stand fifty feet away from shopping centers, hide in a bush when they see a child, douse themselves in perfume or cologne before leaving their homes.

Sarcasm aside, smoking isn’t popular anymore, nor is it attractive.

I came across a small article by Karen Schrock in Scientific American Mind entitled “How Smokers Think about Death”. What a headline that is!

Let me preface this by telling you I smoked cigarettes for over 10 years. I’m 27 now and I’m pretty sure I cannot tell you how I think about death. Actually, I cannot think of a single smoker whose claim to fame would be knowing more about death than the nonsmoker sitting beside them. Mortality isn’t really a casual lunch conversation.

The article asks the question: “Do graphic warning labels on cigarette packages really deter people from lighting up?” Schrock explains that, “In 2012 the U.S. will join dozens of nations around the world in labeling cigarette packages with large photographs of diseased organs, amputated limbs and other gruesome images. Previous research has borne out the idea that when people see images of cigarette-induced ailments, they are reminded of their own mortality.”

When I purchased cigarettes before I quit smoking, the images on them, certainly gruesome, would bother me for about five seconds. Give or take five more seconds. I just wanted a cigarette. But I also wanted to take a black marker to the package and scribble out the pictures. I was not reminded of my own mortality but was instead embarrassed.

The author explains that Jamie Arndt, a psychologist, “…had student smokers complete questionnaires designed to induce either thoughts of their own mortality or thoughts about failing an exam… the researchers offered the students a cigarette and measured every person’s smoking intensity — each puff’s volume, flow and duration.”

I kept reading, hopeful that I might learn something, anything at all at this point.

Schrock continues, “Students who did not smoke often indeed smoked with less passion after being reminded of their own mortality, as compared with the light smokers who read about failing an exam… the infrequent smokers may have been responding to thoughts of death by trying to reduce their own vulnerability… Students who were heavy smokers reacted to thoughts of death by taking even harder drags on their cigarettes.”

So what have we learned courtesy of a 284-word article in a consumer-friendly magazine?

That’s open to debate, much like the impact graphic images have on those who smoke. But it’s safe to say that those who smoke probably do not “think about death” in any fantastical or behavior-changing way.

In the end, whether a person smokes or not, we all question our mortality. That’s part of the human condition. And so are articles that try to figure the whole thing out — life, such as it is.

Reference

Schrock, K. (2010, September 28). How smokers think about death. Scientific American Mind. Retrieved from http://www.scientificamerican.com/article.cfm?id=how-smokers-think-about-death

What are these five indulgences? Personally, I was hoping chocolate was on the list. (Unfortunately, it’s not!) McGonigal narrows it down to these five things: a single espresso, an afternoon nap, a snack, YouTube and reality television.

The author writes that “Willpower diminishes as the day wears on, but anything that reduces stress, boosts your mood, or recharges your energy can also reboot your self-control.”

Even “reality TV?”

Last night, after watching various contestants on a popular reality show sing for 90 minutes, I felt like falling asleep. Willpower? I must be watching the wrong program. Survivor might give me some energy: watching people trudge through swamps and sleep in tents, screaming at each other and falling in ‘love’ the next episode.

I kept reading, hopeful that the small paragraph devoted to the indulgence of reality television would explain our culture’s obsession with watching other people. People on a screen and not, say, upstairs in a different room or a phone call away.

“Willpower is contagious,” the author continues. “Many reality shows feature people working hard to overcome obstacles as they lose weight, face their fears, or organize their clutter.”

I paused reading and recalled a past co-worker who spent, unfortunately, at least 30 minutes every single day talking about her favorite show, The Biggest Loser. We worked side-by-side and so this was particularly irritating, but even more so was the fact that she spent time talking to me — and anyone else who would listen — about her diets. She had a new diet every week and none of them worked.

I guess the show’s “willpower” did not translate to her lifestyle. Sort of like how I can’t sing a note despite watching all of these silly singing shows.

The article concludes with “You can “catch” extra self-control just by watching someone pursue a goal.” Hmm. While the author of this article believes that television can boost willpower and productivity, I disagree. Watching television is a sedentary activity and it uses very few brain cells — feeding your dog uses more. [Ed. - Although it may be a common popular perception, there's also little research that supports the idea that reality TV shows can help a person with their own willpower or act as a personal motivator.]

So, what’s the verdict? The reality is that watching reality television is a form of escape. I doubt it promotes “self-control” (am I the only one who eats dinner while watching television?) but it has ingrained its way into our culture.

That aside, watching the presidential debates far exceeds the drama I have witnessed in any episode of Survivor. In the end, ‘real life’ is reality.

Reference

McGonigal, K. (2012, August). Just give in. Psychology Today, 45(4):13.

Woman with remote photo available from Shutterstock

I was able to stop drinking but, like many recovering addicts, I find holidays particularly tough. They can be a dangerous time when recovering from addiction.

My family and friends celebrate the holiday season as many people do — with lovely meals and gifts, gratitude and festive drinks.

I recall my first Christmas sober, three years ago, and the concerted effort my family made, celebrating with more eggnog and less rum. They knew that, early in my sobriety, I was triggered by even the sight of alcohol. Driving past a liquor store would cause my heart to beat quicker. But as the years have passed, and I have become more comfortable in my sobriety, so have they.

Last year, I was surrounded by the bottles I once loved, the liquids I still adore in memory, as my family held their annual Christmas party. No longer did they tip-toe ’round my sobriety and while I was grateful for this sense of normalcy, I was frightened.

I was not frightened because I felt I would relapse and pour rum in my eggnog. I was frightened because alcohol, once a fast and best friend, surrounded me.

I spent a couple of hours talking to people, just enough to pass for being social, and then locked myself in a spare room with a book. The hours passed and laughter become light conversation until the house was blissfully quiet again.

With this year’s holiday season quickly approaching, I plan to deal with the situation differently. I plan to stay sober, just as in previous years, but with less fear.  I have, thankfully, found and maintained relationships with those who are also recovering addicts. I asked them how they felt about sobriety and the holidays. They find it difficult as well. It’s a bit like walking into a bar except you cannot walk quickly away.

A friend who has over a decade of sobriety under her belt told me that the longer one stays sober the easier it becomes to attend events with alcohol and not feel anxious and afraid. Another, new in his sobriety, recognizes his limitations. If he feels uncomfortable in a situation he gracefully leaves. Maintaining sobriety is the most important thing a recovering addict can do.

Addiction is a dangerous disease and the road to recovery is paved with events, holidays and gatherings that remind us that we may still be fragile. But it is this knowledge that allows us to grow.

This year, when I see a bottle of red wine, I will not hide in a spare room with the door locked. I will remember that my sobriety is defined by sanity and in order to stay sober I need to expose myself to the things which scare me.

Someone enjoying eggnog and rum? That’s a good place to start.