(Ali MacGraw this past winter, near her home outside Santa Fe, New Mexico. Photograph by Annie Leibovitz)
I have to share something that has been on my mind for several days now.
First off, let me say that all of you people out there under the age of..oh, let's say 30, probably have no concept of who Ali MacGraw even is. (She was in a little 70's film called "Love story" with Ryan Oneal among other things...) I guess this post is pretty much geared for those gals in my own peer group and older, but you younger girls just wait. You will be able to identify at some point in time.
Life isn't fair.
Nope. Not at all.
See, its all about the gene pool. Here's how I know. Let's look at two celebrities... Ali MacGraw and Betty White.
Betty is 88, Ali is 72. Yes, I did say seventy two.
Here, let me say that one. More. Time.
Seventy. Two.
Now, both of these celebs have had the same opportunities for all of the plastic surgeries and botox and whatever in life, (And Ali shared on Oprah that she hadn't done any surery other than her neck years ago...) so this is why I say it's at least partially about genetics.
I love dear Betty as much as the rest of America, but, she looks like she's a gal in her 80's. (I mean that in a really, really good way, and it's part of what makes Betty so endearing to us all.) She looks like a sweet lil' Nana, right? And Ali..well, Ali looks like she isn't old enough to be getting her first letter from AARP yet, which happens, for those of you too young to know...at the age of 49.
That's how I know that it has to be the gene pool.
Earlier this month I was home from the bank on a totally random day and time, and I turned on my television. I caught the Oprah show in progress. I was on the phone at the time with one of my besties from the biggest little city.
We both had the show on and began critiquing Ms. McGraw's appearance like completely catty women will do. (Oh come on, you know you've done this before, right? Mercilessly critiqued a celeb like you're the head of the Fashion Police?) I pointed out that while she was still a beauty, she needed to soften up the harsh straight lines of her hairdo (apparently I consider myself some sort of a hair-do officienado...) and my friend whole hearted-ly agreed, pointing out that some curls around her face would be a nice look that would add some youthfulness to Ali's looks. (Oh ya, another hair-do expert heard from..) Bla-bla-bla. Yada yada yada. We went on and on and on and...
"Oh my gosh!", my friend suddenly shrieked into the phone."Did you catch that?!"
"No."
"Ali McGraw is 72."
Un. Be. Lievable.
I gasped. I was only being catty about her hair 'coz I thought she was...I don't know...like, maybe 51, and could use some hair-style tips.(God knows why I thought this, but I did, I truly did.) There was a very long silence on the phone as we both took in and processed exactly what this meant.
Ali was very nearly our mothers ages, yet she looked younger than..us. It has to be that danged gene pool.
We all seem to get our traits and features (And I don't mean just our looks, but our mannerisms and temperaments as well...) from our relatives, and I can tell you exactly where...er...who I got the bulk of mine from. My Grandma on my Dad's side.
Mmmm hmmm. My adorable, kind of Opie-Taylor's-Aunt-Bea-like grandma Bernice, who always went by Bernie, except for my Grandfather, Harold, who fondly called her "Mama" .
Did I get the gene for Grandma Bernie's impeccable flair for neatness, and keeping a house so clean you could eat off the floor, or her ability to control herself in the dishware department by only having only eight place settings of Fiesta-ware in her kitchen?
Noooooooo.
You might think I am exaggerating, but I will tell you that what I did get was Grandma's ample bootie, her soft upper arms, her rather saggy chin and neck, and her bigger-than-life-itself-ever-growing earlobes.
Trust me here, you'll never see me sporting an impish super short hair cut, nor will you see me with my hair pulled up away from my face. My earlobes are safely hiden under my do, and you'll just have to believe me when I tell you that they are each as large as a tostito chip. (Okay, maybe not quite that large, but close enough that I could potentially be on the pages of National Geographic.)
Yup, that's what the gene pool doled out to me in the womb. Now, don't get me wrong, I am okay with my appearance, such as it is. (I do the best I can with what I've got..) I don't think I need counseling for a bad body image or anything like that, I'm just sayin'.
It bears repeating...if life were fair, we'd all look like Ali MacGraw.