How I got older and thinner after a lifetime of dieting

Me in a bathing suit. Or: A photo I could never have imagined publishing publicly before now.

I am the oldest menstruating woman in America. Based on an exhaustive survey of nine of my friends, I am the only 54-year-old in the world who still gets her period every month. You’ve heard of people being young at heart? I’m young at uterus. Since neither my crow’s feet nor my crepe-y elbows are similarly youthful, I’m clinging for dear life to my monthly reminder that it’s not all over. I may not still have it, but I still get it, like clockwork, every month.

But peri-menopause, that’s a different story. That, dear friends, is kicking my butt. Hot…


Everything you Need to Know to Stop Obsessing and Start Looking Great

Me. Edited for maximum impact.

Quarantine has not been kind to those of us who help our blond along. So recently, after weeks of growing horror at the state of my roots, I contacted my hairdresser and asked if she would make a masked house call. We sat by the open window in my kitchen, and voila! Blond restored. After I saw my new fab hair, I took this quick selfie:


Me as Hedy La Rue in my 1982 High School Production of How to Succeed in Business without Really Trying.

When I was around 30 years old, I was stopped on the street by a total stranger.

“Nancy Rabinowitz?” she asked.

“Yes.” I said

“I thought I recognized you. I’m E’s mother, from High School? I saw you in all the plays. Are you a professional actress now?” she smiled.

I laughed “Oh no! Not at all!”

Her smile faded “I don’t see why that’s funny. My daughter really wanted to be a performer, and you!” She practically spit at me. “If you weren’t serious about it, you shouldn’t have taken all the parts in High School.“

I was speechless…


Finding Culinary Comfort in Difficult Times

If you think gefilte fish is gross, you’ve likely only ever had it from a jar. Jarred gefilte fish is a gelatinous, odiferous affront. Homemade gefilte fish is light and airy, a meatball made with fish, a quenelle with a Yiddish accent. Comparing homemade gefilte fish to jarred is like comparing bologna to a rib-eye, plastic flowers to fresh, polyester pull-on pants to Prada trousers. …


And Other Unexpected Effects of COVID-19

Photo by Alexander Redl on Unsplash

Liam Neeson saved my life.

I was on Columbus Ave, waiting to cross, and when the light changed, I stepped into the crosswalk only to have someone stick their arm in front of me to shove me back. In a split second I was simultaneously afraid of whoever shoved me, annoyed at that person, and then relieved, when I realized a taxi, which had been stopped at the intersection, had lurched forward, running the red light. Whoever had shoved me out of the crosswalk had saved my life.

I turned to say thank you…


Friends aren’t “supposed” to break up. But they do.

Photo by Sam Manns on Unsplash

Unlike a divorce, which has pretty clear parameters for dissolution, when friendships break, you’re on your own. No papers to sign. No lawyers to pay. No support groups, no one standing by ready to fix you up with a new best friend, telling you there are plenty of other fish in the sea, to get back in the saddle, or some other animal metaphor that does not help one bit. No one makes movies about the end of friendship, unless they star Katherine Heigl and end with joyfully teary reconciliations set…


Bentley enjoying the good life in the Hamptons.

Yesterday, a friend bragged on her Facebook timeline that her cat was so social, so friendly, so engaged, that it was really more like a dog. I immediately thought: so why not get a dog? I mean, if the best thing you can say about your pet is that it’s more like another pet….GET THE OTHER PET. When I talk about my dog, I often do a similar thing — just in reverse. I tell people that my dog, a rescue mutt from Arkansas, is more like a cat. I don’t mean it as a compliment.

The shelter told us…


Looking Good During Pandemic Just Feels Wrong

Photo by Chris Montgomery on Unsplash

On the Zoom call that day, Ben’s hair looked like he had just left an audition to play the part of Beetlejuice in an upcoming dinner theater production, Larry might have looked just as bad but there was no way to tell since sat in the semi-darkness like he was in the witness protection program, and as for me, it had been so long since I’d colored my hair, I was about to get my own miniseries about it starring Lavar Burton. …


Today marks the announcement of a brand new initiative from the Trump administration: #FindSomethingNew. The initiative is the brainchild of that lovable poster child for nepotism, Ivanka Trump, and initial response hasn’t been pretty. Mother Jones called it the “most recent diamond-encrusted middle finger to American families” from the first daughter. The initiative’s ostensible goal is to help people along the “…exciting new path to the career you want!” as the site’s homepage breathlessly exclaims!

Just as it’s near impossible to take #BeBest — a program organized by a woman married to the biggest bully, with the biggest bully pulpit…


You may think you’re quarantining like sloth. In fact, you’re exercising your rectus flabdominus, your backfatimus muscle and more!

Ready! Sloth! Corona-cize!

It’s day 4,937 of mostly staying at home. The novelty of sourdough, Zoom cocktails, and nothing but sweatpants has long ago worn off. All we’re left with is the nagging feeling that we’re not doing this sheltering in place thing as well our friends posting pictures on social media of their backyard camping staycations, their gorgeous sunset views, and their perfectly executed home haircuts. (You gave your husband a cross between a mullet and a mohawk and he may never speak…

Nancy Friedman

Just another Neurotic New Yorker bumbling along The Road to F*ck it as I navigate life with a lot of angst, a touch of humor, and a teeny bit of Botox.

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