A Tosa resident since 1991, Christine walks the dog, cooks but avoids housework, writes and reads, and enjoys the company of friends and strangers. Her job takes her around the state, learning about people's health. A Quaker (no, they don't wear blue hats or sell oatmeal or motor oil), she has been known to stand on both sides of the political and philosophic fence at the same time, which is very uncomfortable when you think about it. She writes about pretty much whatever stops in to visit her busy mind at the moment. One reader described her as "incredibly opinionated but not judgmental." That sounds like a good thing to strive for!
Network TV has finally done what nothing else has done
before: it made me decide to grow up.
The epiphany happened last night while watching ABC’s show Private Practice. And the moment of clarity? Realizing that I’m just not stupid enough to watch this junk anymore.
The segment, titled “In which Addison gets a showerhead,” was an exploration of various problems in “Lady Town.”
in case you don’t know, is a cutesy euphemism for The Private Place Whose Name
Cannot Be Spoken. I trust it can be written, as long as I stick to medical terms.
We hear the expression, which will now become a part of the national vocabulary, from a dignified older woman.
We know she’s dignified because she's old. Has gravitas, which means she's more than a size 2. Wears glasses, her hair is
tightly pulled back in a grandma bun, not a fashion model chignon, and she
wears a fierce expression that doesn’t qualify as an “ooooo, mama, that woman’s
FIERCE” hot kind of fierce but as an I
don’t put up with nonsense young man kind of fierce.
Anyway, when Dell, a surfer-guy--eye-candy--male-nurse--midwife, attempts to perform a pelvic exam on Dignified Older Woman, she tells him he is not welcome in that part of town on account of how he’s about 15 years old and it’s past curfew or something.
None of the doctors, all fabulously attractive and deeply mentally ill board-certified women physicians in their 40s, can bear to say the words “vulva” or “masturbation,” preferring eyeball rolls and gestures pointing “down there.”
Which gets us back to the showerhead. Apparently, although Addison is famously promiscuous, which is okay and probably mandated in TV "medical" show circles, she’s shocked, shocked I tell you, by the suggestion that a person “can scratch that itch yourself” without borrowing a predictably unacceptable albeit available man to do the job.
In case you haven’t seen the show, and I really don’t know why you would want to, each week the ensemble cast of actors who should know better get together to explore a theme in their impossibly posh clinic in Southern California.
There, four or five highly trained subspecialists will spend untold hours visiting your house and resolving your dilemmas without ever using unpleasant words such as “rape,” one of the problems last night in Lady Town. Or without ever saying “you’re 13 and you need to talk to your mother about sex,” another problem in Lady Town.
Way to learn how not to be!
Like many American women, I’ve spent my life being trained by TV images and lady magazines. More, ostensibly the most grown up of these, exhorts us each month to Be Fabulous Over 40, with the inevitable subtitle involving the word “sexy.” But in my 50s, it’s slowly dawning:
It’s time to get over ourselves and DO something fabulous. Mere sexual conquest seems so last decade. . .