Tag Archives: aging

Beauty Myths Debunked – You’ll Be Surprised

Do you get zits from unwashed pillowcases or cellphones?

Will you age the way your parents age?

Do retinoids make you more susceptible to sun damage or sunburn?

What’s the magic ingredient you should look for in beauty products?

If you were a vampire, would you need anti-aging creams?

On this week’s Jenny Isenman Show, my favorite dermatologist, Dr. Doris Day is back!  You know, the uber famous one I told you I would totally stalk? Well, she answers tons of my insane questions.  Be warned, before you watch, some of the answers are awesome and some may totally piss you off.

Enjoy -

Jenny From the Blog

The questions Dr. Day couldn’t answer: “When the f@ck did I get all these wrinkles.” and “Wasn’t I just going to my prom like last week?” Continue reading

The Jenny Isenman Show | Anti Aging Episode (VIDEO)

This week, on The Jenny Isenman Show, I’m discussing the best fixes for my most worthy adversaries: enlarged pores, wrinkles, sags, uneven skin tone, and cellulite, with the author of Forget the Facelift, (one of my dream guests) Dr. Doris Day. She kinda frequents all the morning shows: Good Morning America, The Dr. Oz Show, The View ... to name a few.

She’s even talked cutting-edge procedures with Barbara Walters on 20/20. I would totally stalk her if I had more time. I tell her about the stalking in our interview, and I’m not gonna lie, she looks nervous about it!

In the segment you will:

  • find out which random place I’ve gotten Botox and why it’s a kind of awesome new trend.
  • learn how heat energy can lift sagging!
  • see a picture of me at prom … in a gold lame dress … that had a turtleneck!
  • see the results of the newest lasers and laser alternatives.
  • learn how to properly berate people who are younger and wrinkle-free (F@ckers)

ENJOY!

If you learned anything from the video, even if it’s that I was super cheesy in the 80′s or that Dr. Day has incredible legs, please like/share it and pass it on to your friends. I’m tryin’ to make this a full time gig!

Behind the scenes extra:  I was sick as a dog when filming and Dr. Day offered to bring me to a walk-in clinic somewhere in the middle of Jersey City at 8PM. Smart, knows her stuff, chills with the stars, and is willing to hang with the sick girl, she was pretty incredible.

XO -

Jenny From the Blog

 

 

 

Who Would NOT Wanna be a MILF?

Double sigh
I fear this story may mean I’ve earned cougar stripes (or should I say spots?).  I mean, there was no official “welcome to the club,” but I find myself wearing more animal print spandex, my gel nails are abnormally long, and I do let out a sigh when I see a meme of Ryan Gosling, so I think all the signs are there.

It was the summer of 2009, my daughter was about to turn 5 and though we were pretty sure she was destined to be a landlubber.  We had tried swim lessons since she was 6 months old — again and again.  We took classes.  We took private lessons.  We switched instructors, and offered rewards. I had made one last appointment, vowing that if this failed, I’d simply keep the baby fence around the pool until she left for college. Continue reading

The More My Butt Sags the Shorter the Shorts

I’ve found that this is a foolproof way to firm those dimply lumps of fat and lift that butt. Wait, did I say foolproof, I may mean fool-worthy, ahem, the jury’s out. But either way, I’ll tell you my theory, and I’m sure you’ll thank me later. Well, that or send me hate mail, but definitely one or the other.

Lately, I’ve been delving into how totally insane and irrational I am. I know, it’s fun for you too. So, I’m taking a look at one of my “tricks” that makes sense in my effed up mind. My rationale is that the more sagging and cellulite I have the shorter the shorts I must wear. Like, as a punishment. Oh, you think I’m kidding, but I kid you not. Continue reading

40 Things Every Woman/Mom Should Have and Should Know by 40

botox ecard

Everyone says that time goes by so fast, but I never saw it pass… it just did.  In the blink of an eye I went from 20 to nearly 40.  For those of you that are nearing, turning, or past the big 4-0, here you go…

I so enjoyed Glamour’s article, 30 Things Every Woman Should Have and Should Know by the Time She’s 30. Shockingly, I could check many of those items off my to-do list.  What’s more shocking is that I’m not 30 anymore, not even close.

A whole decade has passed.  Where did it go?  An amazing husband, multiple careers, a recession, two incredible children, and the blink of an eye later, I’m here, turning the corner on 40. There are many subtle yet life-changing differences a decade makes.  (This may not be as sentimental as it’s predecessor, but hey, I’m a humor columnist):

By 40, you should have… READ ON, IT’S WORTH IT! Continue reading

10 Things I Wanted to do with My Life and Clearly Never Will

It’s my birthday.  Yes, I know “Happy to Me” and all, I’m not feeling so happy.  Actually, I kinda want to be serious for a minute.  It is Friday the 13th ohhhhhhh.  Respect.  I don’t know what that means ’cause I’m Jewish.  But here goes:
I – WILL – NEVER – BE – FAMOUS!!!!!!

Imagine stamping feet between each word.

What? I said I was going to be serious, not mature!

January 13th marks the first day of the last year in my 30‘s.  I know, I could have said that more succinctly – but you know what?  It’s my birthday, so I get to do what I want!

Most importantly, in this day filled with the logging of new wrinkles and the circling of new cellulite dimples that I will have to remove at 40, and assessing what I have not accomplished and what I will never accomplish.

Holy shit.  I will never be famous.  Look, you don’t have to have wanted to be a famous actress, writer, singer, talk show host… from the age of 3 to relate; you merely have to have wanted a certain success that looks less likely to occur as the years pass.  You have to get that urge to sob uncontrollably at the bleak outlook that is your professional or social future, but you should squelch such antics as you’re in the middle of a parent teacher meeting and you really should be paying attention. (wait, that’s just me.)

I was all prepped for fame.  At 5, I was singing outside of restaurants, attracting throngs of people who said things to my mother like, “Oy, you should take her to try out for Annie,” “My G-d that child can sing.” and “Miss, could you please move, you and your child are blocking the entrance.” Were they talent scouts whose opinions could’ve translated into the big bucks?

Probably not.

But they knew good deli and they loved a fatty corned beef on Rye, so that gives them credibility right?  I’m sure many talent execs know good deli, so really it’s quite the same thing.

If I were 5 today, I’d certainly be famous.  Someone would’ve YouTubed me and it would’ve gone viral and I would’ve been befriended by Usher and I would’ve made an inspirational movie called “Never Say Never.”

What, that happened to someone else?

See, it’s a clear case of bad timing.

Here are things I wanted so badly to do with my life that I clearly never will:
1.  Be a Part of  the Kings of Comedy tour
2.  Sing a Duet with Shawn Cassidy
3.  Replace Marie on the Donny and Marie Show Continue reading

How to Retain Water and Lose Sanity

Sure, you read articles all the time on how NOT to retain water and how celebrities cleanse and diarrhetic out the toxins and cholonic out the backed up sewage, but rarely do people tell you how to retain fluids and keep those toxic invaders in and that’s why I’m writing this. to write it the other way is too obvious, too trite, too cliche. This is why I have such a huge following… I know what people really want to know. Because I have this info, my ego is not the only thing that’s bloated.

Here’s how I learned this pertinent bloating information: I was driving and out of nowhere I felt like I was about to pass out. I was luckily in a parking lot and quickly pulled into the nearest spot sideswiping a pedestrian. Sure, I felt some guilt, but I didn’t have time to circle like I usually do and I had to settle for my sub-standard spot.

My mind was racing, “Something is very wrong, people don’t just pass out.” I called my husband on speaker while unlocking my doors, so he or the paramedics could get to me. Even in my nearly unconscious state I was anally over-preparing.

I searched for something to eat. I shoved a lollipop in my mouth… nothing. I was hanging on by a thread, when I saw my daughter’s morning sippy cup of milk. I sucked out the milk as fast as I could (those things have a valve to slow the release of liquid, making this scene almost comedic… if it wasn’t happening to me, that is.) After a rush of boiling heat radiated through my body, the feeling slowly eased. After a meal during, which I was barely lucid for, I told husband I was okay to drive myself to the doctor. This by the way took very little convincing, thanks honey. (He is never anally over-preparing)

Now let me tell you a bit about my Doctor. He is a Jewish Jamaican with a strong accent and the stereotypical laid back attitude you would expect of people who use the word “irie.” I go to him because I am too big of a hypochondriac to go to someone with credentials high strung. When I arrived at the office I found him out back taking a smoke break, he rolls his own, so there’s no telling what it actually was.

He tipped his skull cap at me and I went in to wait for my turn.

“Ello luv, I see you got yer pretty self all worked up. I don’t mean to trow the book at ya, but yer blood pressure is very low… too too low. Yer passin’ out cause yer not getting enough oxygen to yer brain daarlin’.

“That actually explains some other issues.”

“Well, ya got ta take care of dis yerself, cause yer not gonna like the medcine I’d ‘ave to put ya on. Now go to the store and buy everyting wid salt. Get some matzoh ball soup and put extra salt init, put salt on yer salt. Everyting you been taught, ferget it.Rememba ya need tons of fluids, ‘cause ya ‘ave to retain ‘em.”

“What about water?”

“Water? No. That’s terrible fer ya, that just washes the sodium away. I prefer you ‘ave a Coke. Coke jas yer, salt yer caffeine, and yer sugar. It’s the perfect drink fer yer ‘ealth.”

“Yes, I believe that’s their campaign slogan.”

“OK then, I love ya daarlin. ‘Ave a space cake fer the road.”

Did I mention he takes his appointments in a small shack? I’m totally kidding, it’s more of a trailer.

So, if I want to stay awake, I must retain water and eat and drink crap, and if I want to stay thin, I must pass out. Hmmm, well I certainly wouldn’t be the first person who passed out trying to stay thin.

It’s against everyting, sorry everthing, in me to purposely retain fluids. But apparently, this medicine is something I want to avoid, so here goes.

WEEK 1- Filled pantry with pretzels, pistachios, popcorn, pickles, peppercorn jack, and Pepsi. I know, you’re thinking they all have… salt in them, and that’s why I got them.

WEEK 2- Ate and drank all of the above. Wide awake. Feelin’ gooood.

WEEK 3- Still awake. Feeling sluggish. Fingers pruning… Must have sweet, in need of a cupcake. I secretly busted a piñata at my daughter’s friends birthday, and ravaged the innards. I blamed it on a little kid that teases her, who just happened to be the birthday boy. Ahhh, I got my sweets… and my sweet sweet revenge.

WEEK 4- Cannot look at another saltine. Putting MnMs in my soup instead of oyster crackers. Can no longer wear rings. Thighs are becoming too friendly with each other.

Mission accomplished. Do I cry or cheer?

WEEK 5- Too bloated to cook. Can’t get fingers around pan handles. Oven mitts don’t fit. Had husband install salt licks around the house for convenience. Lick them each time I waddle by. Will write more tomorrow, sausage fingers too swollen for keys.

So many freakin' Lemonade stands, but you never see one of these.

Ninety is the New Eighty | Jenny from the Blog

It’s hard to look younger when you keep getting older.

elderly ladies
They say forty is the new thirty, and thirty is the new twenty. The problem with everything being “the new”something is that it gives people (and by “People” I mean me)  less chance to look young for their age. Frankly, I feel about twenty most of the time, which I guess is the new ten. However, when I attempt to run up a flight of stairs or decipher the hieroglyphic message in the spider veins  on my legs,  I’m reminded that I’m not twenty anymore.

Remember that “hot you” that made heads turn? Continue reading

Do You Have A Minute To Talk About My Thighs? -Vlog 3

Are your thighs oddly attracted to each other and trying desperately to fill the space between them?  Do you try to put on your go to jeans and they don’t fit, but your post pregnancy/period jeans do?

Aging Series: Article 1 “Geography Lesson”

Such weird things happen as we get older. For instance, what your parents called beauty marks your dermatologist calls moles. Those veins that once transported blood to your feet look like they are trying to escape from your legs.

Everyone is freaking out about something. I get calls about gray hair, stray hair, receding hair, and hair that won’t grow.

I hear about bad backs, brains that lag,

cottage cheese thighs, and boobs that sag.

Age brings crow’s feet, faces that wrinkle,

memory loss, and fallen bladders that tinkle.

That’s right, I rhymed.

The weirdest things are those you didn’t see coming. For instance, I now have an ugly tongue. You didn’t see that coming did you? I’d always notice when older people had those tongues that showed indentations from every tooth and think, “thank G-d he’s too old to French kiss anyone.” Mind you old is 40 when you’re like 13.

Now, I have acquired an ugly tongue. It’s not always ugly, so if you were thinking, “Me and you, open mouthed greeting.” You can still catch me on a good day. I went to the Doctor, because as stated in the “Hypochondriatic Oath,” “I will fulfill my duty to check everything out. From lumps to paper cuts.” The doctor said this ugly mark actually has a name, “Geographic Tongue.”

He explained that it’s a reaction to spicy or salty foods, in which blotches show up that look like the outlines of countries, hence the term. It comes and goes, in different places and locations.

Two weeks ago I was featuring Africa, however it appears today I am feeling patriotic. Not that I think anyone is really looking, but I have to remind myself, “No raspberries till it disappears, and no showing off my tongue rolling or cherry tying abilities for that matter.” This will be hard, but I will persevere… in the name of vanity.

Sadly my husband, who is the person I kiss the most, gets the job of helping me decipher which country it looks like. It’s a fun little game we play to get in the mood. I think it’s really hot. I might even call it foreplay, but it’s been so long since I had the time or energy for foreplay I wouldn’t know it if it bit me on the tongue.

I think if Mark had to call it something, the word would be… gross. Luckily, the fear of having to do things like figure out visitation schedules and who gets the itunes library, the cat… our many vacation villas, is a large factor in him sticking around.

If you enjoyed this post please subscribe in the box to the right or bookmark it.

One Hundred is the New Ninety

They say 40 is the new 30, and 30 is the new 20. The problem with everything being the new something else, is that it gives me less of a shot at looking young for my age. Most of the time I feel about 20, which I guess is the new 10. When I try to run up a flight of stairs or decode the spider vein message on my legs, however, I realize I’m not.

Remember that “hot you” that made heads turn? You know, before they were too busy sneering at one of your children flailing and screaming on the floor of Publix, Target, the movies… insert crowded public place here? That’s the you I want to be. Well, the me I want you to be. You get the picture.

It all starts with heavy drinking. I’m told I need 32 oz’s of water, a cup of pomegranate juice, a shot of Mona Vie, some cayenne pepper lemonade, and 27 glasses of green tea, all before noon. After five small meals and a sensible dinner, I must row myself into the bathroom and pee for 18 minutes, straight. Then I am required to slap on anti-aging creams with neo-mono-peptides, glycolic-amino-acids, Agent Orange, and Soylent Green. Each product is guaranteed to include the strongest ingredients known to man, and assures me that I will look 25 years younger (regardless of my current age.) This will make me look 10…so I’m right on track.

When we used to say, “We’d rather stick needles in our eyes,” who knew we meant it? I haven’t taken the plunge, but there is a crease in the middle of my brow that makes me appear constantly pensive and worried. Oh yeah, and also… old.

I have a friend who, after getting Botox on that very spot, encountered the phenomenon I call the “Evil Eyebrow.” This occurred when the crease was frozen, and whenever she tried to squint, worry, or ask a question her eyebrows arched as if she was plotting some diabolical plan. Being the good friend that I am, every time I saw her “Evil Eyebrow,” I would say “Mwaaaaa” and curl the edge of my imaginary handlebar moustache.

The fix is for her to get more Botox above her eyebrows. However, she’d then risk acquiring what I call “Frozen Forehead.” I recently had a conversation with a “Frozen Forehead.” It’s owner was telling me she was worried about her son going to a new school. However, her forehead was telling me that she was totally relaxed about it, and maybe even mildly comatose. Liar, you don’t even care about your kid, I thought. Then I kicked her in the shin and ran away. I turned back in regret, but she was expressionless. “Phew,” awkward moment avoided.

The truth is, it would be better if everything was still the old “whatever it was.” I wouldn’t have to buy purple to be wearing black this fall. My semi-youthful glow would seem rare and enviable, and teenagers would ask my major, rather than call me Ma’am. I could go on for hours, but my hands are starting to cramp and I’m running late for a Bunko game. See you in the waiting room.