And, it’s not just the skinny 20 year olds who are dancing! Listen to this from Dr. Klein:

“Another compelling feature of Brazilian women is that when it comes to dancing, everyone is eligible. No woman is too large to participate, and when they do, they shake whatever they have. Often, that’s a considerable amount of shaking, and no one scolds them or turns away. Bodies are bodies, and in Brazil, bodies are good.

In fact, the large women in Brazil dress exactly the way their thinner sisters do: skimpy, tight, and colorful. There’s even a style of tank top that deliberately exposes the belly, inviting it to hang over their short shorts. In America most women would be horrified to expose what we delicately call “rolls of fat.” In Brazil that same flesh is called, um, flesh, and it’s not seen as a moral failing or aesthetic calamity. It’s part of a woman’s body, and they apparently don’t feel the desperate need to cover or disguise it. If it’s a woman’s body, there are plenty of men to celebrate it. As a result, there are Brazilian women of every size preening. And that’s attractive regardless of how a woman is constructed.

And did I mention that the Brazilian women are gorgeous?”

‘Tis the season for parties, dining out, dressing up, dancing, or simply toasting the end of the year with a good friend. Enter Body Image and the American Woman (and men,too). How many try-ons, how many angles, how many I-wish-I-weren’t-saggings, how many I-will-start-working-outs does it take before we get comfortable with our bodies? I went to a formal event last weekend. I watched as seasoned men and women loosened up with a little wine and took their black tie bodies out on the dance floor. Some held on tight. Some, with great flourish, let it all hang out. Yes, moving (well, almost) like a Brazilian!

What an inspiration, these Brazilian women! Let’s OWN IT, as they do – or at least let’s move in that direction. Let’s move to the music and pulsate to it. Bodies are good! Just the thing to celebrate the rhythm of life in this holiday season (and any time).

“Some people don’t dance, if they
don’t know who’s singing.
Why ask your head? it’s your
hips that are swinging.”

~ Shirley Bassey, History Repeating 1997

What do you think? Let me know here.

(Parts of this blog were reprinted from Sexual Intelligence, copyright © Marty Klein, Ph.D. (www.SexualIntelligence.org).)

What a masterful way to deliver a critical message! In my new book, Sexperienced: Guide for the Seasoned Woman Seeking New Possibilities , I talk about our juicy seasoned sensuality – using all five senses to remind, reinforce, and redefine ourselves as the sexy women (and men!) that we are. We love to look – and that’s a good thing! Looking at hot younger men is not only desirable, it’s a boon to our mental and physical health.

Looking refreshes our sexuality, lifts our mood, starts the dopamine flowing (hormone of desire and romance), makes us stand up straight with erect posture (no kidding!) and own our sexuality, and revs up a primal drive that defines who we are as women (in this case straight women, but my Lesbian friends have appreciated this ad, as well, from the sheer creativity and awe of the human body – female or male.)

One more thing. To the seasoned sexy women reading this: At Sex on the Porch I hear from women over and over again that men our age are only interested in looking at younger women. Stop the presses! When men look at younger women, they are participating in the same eros life force that attracts women to the men in this advertisement. It’s a part of who we are as human beings. Our brain is our most potent sex organ. What we think, and allow ourselves to enjoy, is the key ingredient to vibrant sexuality. We’re all hard wired to look, appreciate, and delight in sexy specimens at any age. Men take a lot of heat for looking, and commenting. Yes, men tend to be less subtle, and express the enjoyment outwardly. Nonetheless, our sense of sight is powerful for both sexes. Looking doesn’t mean that a man or woman wants to sleep with the observed. It’s simply another way of experiencing our sensuality (this time with our eyes) and participating in that vital life force of our sexuality.

Enjoy this YouTube treat, all my seasoned friends – men and women! It’s simply hot. And fun.

By the way, it was given to me by my colleague Melanie Davis, Ph.D. (www.honestexchange.com ), sex educator extraordinaire, and fellow member at the Consortium on Sex and Aging at Widener University.

Kind of makes you want to get an IPhone for the monthly eye candy, doesn’t it? I’ll be interested in your comments.

I would love to hear thoughts. Click here to leave a comment.

Last weekend, I attended my #??? Ferndale, Michigan, High School class reunion. (You didn’t really think I was going to reveal the number of years, did you?). Suffice it to say it was before the Apple 2C. In any case, every time this invitation arrives, I think of all the insecure thoughts we all think before a reunion: I don’t know anyone anymore. What if ____ is there? (fill in blank with one of following: old boy/girlfriend …  that girl/boy who said those evil “put downs” to me in chemistry class … that clique of hip, slick, and cool girls). It’s high school fears all over again. Because, of course, that’s where we left those people. And if you live a long way from your home town, as I do in San Francisco, there’s the additional “I have nothing in common with them anymore, and most of them never moved away.”

Then, you go. Something deep inside makes you do it. On the way, you stop at White Castle with an old  friend, and you get the same heartburn that you always did. Hmmm. Something very odd is happening. That characteristic smell and the disgusting aftertaste of those sliders are somehow very comforting. It’s the taste and smell of your childhood. White Castle – and you’re home again.

On the way down to the hotel ballroom, you’re actually nervous. Then, it all goes away. The greeters are thrilled to see you. Hugs all around. You’re lit up with smiles. You hear  “OMG, Kathy Forsythe!”,  and you turn to see someone you would swear you’ve never laid eyes on in your life. You look at his name tag and his high school picture, and you say, “OMG, Randy Finney!” All those people that you hope aren’t there? They aren’t. Maybe they were the insecure ones in the end. And if they are there, you will be amazed how they have changed in 40+ years! (I’m just sayin’…).

You learn that joy and tragedy plays no favorites. Sure, some have had it better than others. Some personalities have changed, some not. There are still dorks (no names here!), a few are still funny, there are still the studious ones, some are still happy, and some are still sad. All of us are older, and all of us have been sobered by life. Some have lost spouses. Several had lost children. Some went bankrupt (several times). One guy is an undertaker (mortician? What’s the pc title, here?). He’s still the funniest person I have ever met. I asked about business, and he said, “Not bad. I had one today  before the reunion, and I got two more cookin’ for tomorrow.”  Completing the picture, there was the promkingnowdoctor who arrived in his Armani suit with 33 year old eye candy on his arm, of course. He kept his hand on her butt all evening long.

Our histories are very much a part of who we are. At my women’s event, Sex on the Porch, we talk about our sexuality in terms of how our life wisdom dictates how we act today as a man or as a woman. What I learned at Ferndale High School about being sexual gave me – and all of us – the foundation upon which we moved forward expressing ourselves uniquely as men and women throughout our lives. Were we wounded or abused?Was our first sexual experience wonderful or scary and painful? If we attended church, synagogue, or mosque what dictums were handed to us to guide us – or to turn away from? Our life wisdom all started ‘way back then. How much do we carry today that still influences our thinking?

At midlife, there’s a tsunami of change. One thing remains constant, and that’s the people who touched our lives ‘way back then. It’s good to go back and touch your roots.

Btw, who sang it originally? Gary U.S. Bonds. What’s the name of the record? “Quarter to Three” Who did the remake? Bruce Springsteen. Click here to get all the original lyrics – and have your own class reunion.

I would love to hear thoughts! Share here.

This was not the retail therapy that I was looking for. But then, life lessons never come in the form you expect. I let a day that could have been a delicious day of sinfully sensuous self indulgence turn into one of personal punishment. That is just not necessary.

Treating ourselves to new drapery for our beautiful bodies is essential. Our bodies are still the temples of our souls. That hasn’t changed. Now, more than ever, however, they deserve to be adorned to show our pride in this body that has hung with us through (literally) thick and thin. We have much to thank our amazing bodies for, and ornamenting them with lovely accoutrements is key.

What blocked me from that thinking on Sunday was my attitude. I let fear of looking older get in my way.

The next time you are alone in the fitting room with a stack of clothes that looked marvelous on the wooden manikin, do some self preservation steps of mental preparation – self love steps. As hokey as it sounds, it will release you to a day of freedom to enjoy the pleasures of retail therapy.

• First, get your head screwed on right before you enter the dressing room. Be real. You’re not 25. Be gentle with yourself. Your body is doing pretty darn well, considering the stress you have put it through.
• Second, immediately, stop the nasty hate thoughts when they start.
• Third, don’t ask anyone if it makes you look fat. If you have to ask, it doesn’t matter what the answer is. You’ll never wear it.
• Last, only buy what you really feel wonderful in. The question to ask is “Do I feel beautiful in this?” (Note the verb difference. It’s not “do I look good?” It’s “do I feel beautiful?” Whether you are buying bras, earrings, or a suit for the office, the answer should always be YES. Any other answer means don’t buy it.

Leave all the other stuff for the group that has to prove something. That’s not you, anyway.

Is it?

Body image is a big deal. Read all about it in my new book,  Sexperienced. Guide for the Seasoned Women seeking new possibilities Get 40% off the selling price – sign up for advanced sales now!

On Sunday, I tested that theory with retail therapy of my own. There I stood, in my skivvies – just me, the personal shopper, and the mirror – all in the same dressing room. Who is that woman in the mirror (referring to me)? Seriously, omg, that isn’t my body! I don’t really look like that, do I?

I’m not talking about my forehead, in case you were going to comment on how firm and taut that is. I am talking about everything below that. The problem is (I found myself explaining this to the personal shopper), that I have not been able to work out since I fractured a vertebra last December. That’s why my arms look like my grandmother’s. Cringe. It’s true. That dimpled sagging skin. I remember thinking how comfortable those arms looked, as a child. Now? On me? Let me put it this way. Not even my old boyfriend, now a good buddy, could say anything other than, “It will come back really quickly when you are able to work out again”. Even he couldn’t negate it! The personal shopper told me to go get it spray tanned.

The truth hurts. Or does it? Turns out it wasn’t so much about the clothes as it was about my brain, the thoughts I was thinking, and my attitude. I was letting stereotypes of our youth culture, and other peoples opinion (and the story I was attributing to them – not necessarily what they were intending) make my day of delightful shopping into one big pity party.

Not necessary for any of us! My advice to myself and to you? Stop the pity party right now. Find clothes you love, and don’t settle for less. If you don’t feel absolutely beautiful in it, don’t buy it. A little harsh, perhaps , but it’s the truth. Do yourself a big favor and get on the discount list for the book, in the right hand column of this article, so that you’ll be in the discussion about body image for the Boomer plus age group. Tomorrow, I’ll have more details about how to handle life in the fitting room. Stay tuned.

Thursday morning. I am scurrying across Union Square in San Francisco on my way to my office, running late. It’s 10:21 in the morning. Bright, blue sky. Tourists, backpacks, chi-chi boutiques, Macy’s, Gump’s … you get the picture.

Then, the wake up call: that blaring Orwellian siren that signifies high noon on the first Wednesday of the month. Only, as you have already noted, it’s not Wednesday. And, it’s not noon.

In San Francisco, that can only mean one thing … the unthinkable. An earthquake. Or a terrorist attack. Either is enough to cause the Marie Antonette reaction: your hair turns white overnight from sheer panic. For those of us “assisting nature with her hair color” – that’s quite a feat! In any case, almost as soon as the wailing started, it stopped.

What followed was even more frightening.  An alarming Orwellian voice (to match the siren) boomed out of the tops of the buildings. Totally indiscernible, but clearly directive and aggressive. Shouting something terribly important. I have no idea what he was saying. Much like the pilot on the airplane who speaks in the glottal fry – deep, intense, but inaudible. I looked around at the reactions. Most people looked a little perplexed. Some were panicked. Others were nonplussed.

It was over as soon as it started. It turned out to be an “earthquake preparedness exercise”. The impact left me thinking about Be Here Now, that great classic by Ram Dass (Richard Alpert) from 1971. Be Here Now* is a strange but vital reminder to be present in the moment that we are in. Nothing shakes you up to get back to now like the threat of an earthquake.

So, what does this have to do with sexuality? Just about everything. Look around you. How can you get your mojo working, now? And what’s mojo anyway? Your mojo is: art or practice of casting magic spells (according to dictionary.com).

For us, at midlife plus and talking about sexuality, mojo means more than satisfying your libido. It means: What do you need in your life right now to celebrate all that has to do with your sexuality as a man or a woman – to spread that enticing, bold energy that only you can spread, in your own way.

Do you need to be touched? Go out and get it. A massage will do it. Playing with a pet will do it. Do you have life wisdom to share? Go share it, now. Do you have favorite clothes that make you feel handsome or glamorous? Put them on. Do you have a sexual experience in your life that needs to be healed? Get some help.

I’m just sayin’ … The siren is wailing, folks. We just can’t hear it. Make the most of this moment. Be kind to yourself so that you can share your beauty with others. There’s lots to do in this world, but honoring yourself and the special piece (and peace!) you bring to this puzzle of a world, as a man or a woman, needs to be honored, right now, by you. Don’t wait!

*If you would like to order Be Here Now, Click Here.

*After a severe stroke, Ram Dass wrote a second book, Still Here: Embracing Aging, Changing, and Dying. It’s an inspiration to folks facing loss later in life. Great book – upbeat and full of hope. If you’d like to read about his story about writing the book, click here. If you would like to order this book, click here.

At midlife plus, they get lost in the shuffle of kids leaving home, new jobs, lost jobs, retirement, caring for aging parents, caring for aging children, boredom, routine, and flat out exhaustion.  Check out this article in WebMD How to Get Your Sexy Back . Here’s 21 ways to rev it up and feel sexy again. The article is for women, but men can use the tips, too. Not all of them apply to us in the second half of life, but some of them are worth mentioning. Most important – start with yourself and you will lay the foundation for going further.

Look at you. What do you see? (C’mon. Be objective. No self loathing allowed.) Would you want to be intimate with you? I’m not talking about self-esteem – we’ll leave that one in the corner for now. I’m talking about your ‘tude and your appearance. Let’s start with what my Mama told me: fake it ‘til you make it. You gotta start someplace. There’s no place like home.

Don’t look at magazines. Don’t look at movies, the internet, or tv, to figure out what you need to do. You don’t need Oprah and you don’t need Men’s Health Magazine. You just need you.

Stop. Look. And Listen. Look at you. What’s the status of your undergarments? Be honest? Still wearing frumpy briefs? Try a thong. Ladies, get a sexy bra – at least one. You’ll be stunned at how sexy you feel. I have one client who doesn’t wear underwear from time to time. It’s his little secret, and he loves it that no one knows it but him. How’s your hair? Need a remake? Get one! What kind of lotion do you use after shower? Do you even use lotion? If you buy something that feels luxurious going on, you’ll wear more of it, and that old dry skin will perk up.

Get rid of the ugly old clothes. We forget how long we’ve had them! I found a picture of myself 15 years ago, and realized I had just worn the same outfit 2 days ago. When was the last time you donned that outfit? Look hard in the mirror – do you really appear the same way you did 15 years ago in that style? Get new stuff. No excuses. Resale shops abound in this economy, and everyone has sales. You’ll feel refreshed and attractive.

Watch something hot with your partner, or by yourself. Doesn’t have to be erotica. One classic that will light your fire is Body Heat with Kathleen Turner and William Hurt. Pop some popcorn, get a cold soda, and turn it on. Literally and Figuratively.

I walked past all those Victoria Secret windows on Union Square in San Francisco just now, and each one screamed out the words, WHAT’S SEXY? We’re obsessed with looking out there for the answer. There answer is in our brain. Decide you want to look and feel sexy and you will!

It’s all in the knowing, as they say. To get started, wrap your mind around this: You were born a sexual being – at birth you were determined to be a boy or a girl. You will die a sexual being. “Sexual” means celebrating who you are as a man or a woman, however you interpret it. It doesn’t have to include a partner. If you want a partner, you can find one, or enhance the one you have. Stay tuned and we’ll have lots of blogs coming up, on that subject.

In the meantime, ponder this:

What does it take to have a great sexual encounter?

Identify what you want out of it. It’s your body to enjoy. Own it!

Expect intimacy; think about pleasuring, not performing.

Be prepared. Carry condoms and lubricant.

Communicate; tell your partner what you like and don’t like .

Understand how very nervous men are at this age about performance and being judged.

Be aware of how very nervous women are at this age about body image.

Go in with your eyes wide open; forget those darned romance novels

Keep your sense of humor. Don’t take yourself so seriously. Be able to laugh in the bedroom.

I live in San Francisco, home of all things related to sexuality. Except, it appears, this issue. When will they get it?: when it comes to breasts, and breast health, we are talking about the very essence of who we are, heart and soul, as women? We don’t want to be told to wait to find out if we have breast cancer.

My phone call to the “breast health center” yields, after a 10 minute wait, a scheduling rep barely able to speak English, who promises me an appointment on August 13. All booked until then. You have GOT to be kidding?! You want me to WAIT 16 days to see if I have breast cancer? And what about an interpretation of what they found? “Well, Ms. Forsythe, I really don’t know, but you should have received a letter from us explaining. You might want to check your mailbox.” Oh, please. HELLO! I received no letter, no explanation. Can you please connect me to a medical professional who can explain what my mammogram indicated? “Yes, Ms. Forsythe, I can take your number and have them call you back.” (They never did.)

I proceeded to push up the leadership ladder to get an appointment now, and find out what’s wrong. I want an appointment TODAY. This is my body, these are my breasts. I want to know NOW if I have breast cancer. Nothing else matters. I try to call the “higher ups” to get help. I get this: No living breathing people. Please leave a message for: 1. The Breast Health Center Manager (who, it turns out, is not in today and has no backup). 2. The customer service agent who promises to call me back within 24 hours (24 hours? THIS is customer service in a clinic whose sole purpose is about breast cancer?). 3. The chief Radiologist who reads these results, a senior sounding male, who also promises to call back (and never did … but what was I thinking … doctor as god does not have to call you back, of course.)  4. Before I call the Chief Nursing Administrator, I call the lowly scheduler again. This time, I get English as the first language. Please connect me to SOME medical professional who can help me. She connects me to “Sally” (name changed), nurse of some flavor. Sally hears my desperate plea to be seen NOW, so that I don’t go into clinical depression by August 13. She will call me back in one hour. Amazingly, she does. I’ll be seen tomorrow at 3PM. I exhale. I am exhausted.

Its an old, tired story and it doesn’t have to be that way. No, ladies, it doesn’t have to be like this. Listen to me: YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO FIND OUT WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU RIGHT NOW. This is YOUR body. Take control of it. Learn to be your own advocate. The health care system is so muddled up that there are vast gaping black holes. You can fall in, nobody cares, and in most cases, no one is going to reach in with a helping hand to pull you out. You must do it for yourself.

What if you took your car into the mechanic, and he/she said, “We’ve found something that could cause you to crash into a telephone pole and burn up at any time. Might be very dangerous. We just don’t know exactly what is wrong. By the way, we are not going to tell you what we suspicion is wrong. Just bring the car back in 17 days, and we’ll do more tests. Good luck in the meantime.” Would you stand for that? What would you do? If this car scenario doesn’t suit you, substitute your dog, your cat, even your child in the above scenario.

Of course, you wouldn’t put up with it for a minute! The same is true when it comes to your breast health care. Own it, ladies. Push for what you want. Don’t let the system dictate what you must do. Don’t let any degree or position intimidate you. Get the information and procedures you need, now, or go somewhere else.

Here’s hope: Can you imagine a system where there is a navigator, a person who takes your hand, is your advocate, and guides you through the maze of medical spider webs in breast health? What if, in this same system, they did not let you leave after your first screening mammogram if anything suspicious showed up? What if they kept you there, did the follow-up diagnostic tests on the spot? Then, if something needed to be aspirated or biopsied, it was done right then, with the advocate by your side?

Don’t ask me what I have been smoking! This system exists! Unfortunately for me, the one I found is in Georgia. Check it out: MCGHealth, the premier healthcare system of Georgia. Platinum customer service from medical professionals who know how to give it does exist. At MCGHealth, they don’t settle for less.

In the meantime, remember: this is YOUR body, the only one you have. These are YOUR breasts, the only ones you have. This is what makes you a woman, helps define your sexuality. Demand what you need. You are the customer. Don’t be intimidated. The life you save may be your own. Nobody else is going to do it for you.

For every girl who is tired of acting weak when she is strong, there is a boy tired of appearing strong when he feels vulnerable. For every boy who is burdened with the constant expectation of knowing everything, there is a girl tired of people not trusting her intelligence. For every girl who is tired of being called over-sensitive, there is a boy who fears to be gentle, to weep. For every boy for whom competition is the only way to prove his masculinity, there is a girl who is called unfeminine when she competes. For every girl who throws out the E-Z-Bake, there is a boy who wishes to find one. For every boy struggling not to let advertising dictate his desires, there is a girl facing the ad industry’s attacks on her self-esteem. For every girl who takes a step toward her liberation, there is a boy who finds the way to freedom a little easier.