“Oh, how I regret not having worn a bikini for the entire year I was twenty-six. If anyone young is reading this, go, right this minute, put on a bikini, and don't take it off until you're thirty-four.”
So several years ago, Courtney recommended this book to me because...obviously. I mean, if you've ever spent more than three minutes in a room with Courtney and me, you will likely hear some quote from one of Nora Ephron's movies over the last three decades.
Remember when we had a "Sleepless in Seattle"-watching party via phone when she passed? We're not well women.
Anyway, I have to admit that when I picked it up several years ago, I was underwhelmed. Probably because Meg Ryan wasn't in it? Also, because maybe I was too busy worrying about my own neck.
Either way, when I picked it up again last week I was pleasantly surprised that I was dumb the first time to have put it down. I mean, at 35 I'm still feeling pretty darn good about my neck and my eyes and things in general. Everything is more or less in the place it was when I was born, and even though I've been offered free Botox by friendly dermatologists in the past because I have my dad's furrowed brow, I'm more or less content.
Nora Ephron was not. And it's really funny.
She basically verbalizes what goes through our heads as women on a near-daily basis, content or not. Or, those of us who are maybe a little neurotic (and aren't we all?)
“Here are some questions I am constantly noodling over: Do you splurge or do you hoard? Do you live every day as if it's your last, or do you save your money on the chance you'll live twenty more years? Is life too short, or is it going to be too long? Do you work as hard as you can, or do you slow down to smell the roses? And where do carbohydrates fit into all this? Are we really all going to spend our last years avoiding bread, especially now that bread in American is so unbelievable delicious? And what about chocolate?”
It's like she's in my head. And bread is for real the delicious work of the devil.
I'm guessing my dad will pass on this since he's, you know, a man. But my mom would likely enjoy it, as would Amanda...I think? I'm not sure. Sometimes Amanda's all like 'I don't understand your obsession with romantic comedies and all things Nora Ephron' and I'm like 'I don't understand how we're related.'
Either way, mom, I'll bring it home at Christmas and you'll likely finish it in a day (it's 160 pages - I'm embarrassed how long it was on my nightstand).