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Papiczek
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"I am a late bloomer. In fact, a friend of mine you may have heard of -- Chris Rock -- he once called me the most late-blooming mofo he'd ever met.
Now, some people might consider that snide, but I revel in it. I'm 55, and I'm here in this curvy body as someone who has done the work, lived the life walked the walk in these very high heels --
and therefore is qualified to testify in the church and in the court of law that it does, in fact, get greater later.
Now coming to this realization wasn't easy. At the age of 38, I was a very successful fashion advertising executive, and I was really living what most people considered a dream life. I was jet-setting to fashion shows; I was receiving free designer clothes; I was double-kissing my way across the globe.
I was. And, you know, it was everything that I ever wanted it to be, and then one day I realized I was only pretending to be happy. But I couldn't blow up my good life in my prime earning years, right? Wrong. Which leads me to lessons my mother Lolly taught me.
Lolly's number one lesson: don't settle. Don't settle. Now I'm aware that my well-paying, glamorous career is not exactly the humdrum, "I hate my job" stereotype that most people equate with settling. But it was a settle for me, because when I actually did quit my job at the age of 38, it was with the intention that every day be a great adventure. Now sometimes it was a very scary adventure, like being broke from the age of 40 to 45. But even still, I wouldn't trade that for the safe and settled version, because if I had, I would not be here with y'all today.
Yeah. So you know how when you like, buck the system and go against the status quo, it makes people really uncomfortable? And invariably, people will ask, "Where do you get your confidence?"
Now some people mean it as a compliment, but very often it's shady ...
and it's a silent judgment. And to those people, I respond with a quote from this Brooklyn poet you may have heard of, Jay-Z.
"She get it from her mama." I am she, and my mama is the epitome of a grown-ass woman: someone who has always been very comfortable in her skin. In 1965, my mom was 37 years old. She already had one child, my big brother, Gerry, and she married my dad, but she kept her maiden name. And then she had my sister Stephanie and I back-to-back, but she continued to work because she refused to be beholden to my dad for money. And I bet my mom was the only woman in our neighborhood who cooked once a week. She made Sunday dinner. It was an extravaganza, but that's all she did. She cooked one day a week.
My mom is just amazing. And she also had this ability of talking to her children about real life and making sure that we understood the virtues of going your own way, which is why I believe today at the age of 94, and a recent widow, my mom is still carving out ways to find and determine and define her own version of happiness. She cooks for herself. She maintains her home exactly as she sees fit. She enjoys champagne and R-rated films.
My mom has managed to maintain her glamour, her sex appeal, you know, her independence. And I really hope some of that rubs off on me..."