Resist this....

Reproduced from my original column in the Miami Herald

People undermine the impact of the environment on our life. This is how the environment around us influences our behavior:

Scene 1

Trigger Situation: You need chewing gum. You drive to the nearest pharmacy at the mall.

Self-talk: I’ll just buy chewing gum. I don’t need anything else.

Behavior: You spend 7 hours at the mall and spend $ 1,287 on stuff you don’t need. You forget chewing gum.

Consequence: You go bankrupt with bad breadth.

Scene 2

Trigger Situation: You drive North on the Palmetto Highway every day to go to work. You pass through Dr. Buttsky’s Plastic Surgery Clinic. Buttsky displays on an electronic board some of the butts he has sculpted over the years.

Self-talk: Gosh, who needs that? I wonder what my butt would look like on his electronic board?

Behavior: You decide to have a Brazilian Butt Lift at Dr. Buttsky’s clinic.

Consequence: You become so sexy you decide you don’t need to live with the slob you have for a husband anymore. You leave your husband and your children and everybody talks about what a horrible mother you are. 

Scene 3

Trigger Situation: You are at the buffet on a cruise.

Self-talk: I can handle all this temptation. I know better.

Behavior: You load your plate with six different cakes oozing LDL for six consecutive days, twice a day.

Consequence: Your cholesterol goes to 800. There isn’t enough Lipitor in the world to save you. Your life insurance is revoked; you collapse of a massive heart attack and your family is destitute for generations.

Scene 4

Trigger Situation: You go to a bar with your male buddies.

Self-talk: I know my limits.

Behavior: You get wasted out of your mind.

Consequence: You get up three days later, in another city. You miss work and get fired.

While department stores, cruise companies, breweries, and Dr. Buttsky are laughing their way to the bank, you have totally ruined your life, not just for you, but for your entire family, for generations to come, and have brought shame to your entire community, not just in Miami, but also in Colombia, where everybody is talking about what an infidel woman you are.

You, my friend, could have prevented all of this. But no, you thought that the environment does not have an impact on your behavior. No, you thought that your willpower was stronger than that. You thought you could handle temptations. You, my friend, and all the other 99.99999 percent of the population are suckers.

Not only do you buy stuff you don’t need, but you let others display your sculpted butt on The Palmetto. You, my friend, are manipulated all day long by ads and minds. Every time you do something totally stupid somebody is making money off of you. You thought that ads impact only other people. Not you, you the master of self-discipline.

So, what’s the solution? First, stop kidding ourselves. We are all suckers.

Once you realize that the environment is full of temptations, 99.99999 percent of which are bad for you, you can begin changing the environment so you are not tempted. I know that my family is not an example of anything other than utter neurosis, but I have never gone bankrupt or allowed my cholesterol to go over 200; although I have thought of a Brazilian Butt Lift. Still, in my house you will never find junk food, sugar, milk, meat, cakes, alcohol, sodas, white bread, or chocolate. Come to think of it, I don’t know what the heck we do eat, but I can tell you we are pretty healthy, and my life insurance has never been revoked, and I have never brought shame to my family, or community, here or abroad.

Catastrophizers and minimizers make me look normal

My latest column from the Miami Herald

Thoughts play tricks on us. On one hand, they may lead us to worry needlessly. We take a pretty mundane concern, and we turn it into the end of the world. Jewish mothers wrote the book on this. Trust me, I live with one.

On the other hand, thoughts may cause us to neglect serious stuff. Overconfident boys wrote the book on this. Believe me; I also have one of those. 

My wife Ora is a “catastrophizer.” My son Matan is a “minimizer.” They make for an interesting life. Best part: they make me look quite normal. 

When Matan was young he used to cough. Ora thought it was cystic fibrosis. When the doctor ruled that out, Ora thought it was tuberculosis. When the tests ruled that out, Ora thought it was pertussis. When that was ruled out, Ora moved to another line of worry. Matan is now 26. He recently called us from New York City, where he lives. He reported neck pain. Ora thought it was meningitis. 

When Matan was four years old, he came home one day with half of his chin hanging out; an accident on the swings. He came to tell us that he needed a Band-Aid and that Andrew, his buddy, was waiting for him to go back to the swings. Containing our panic, we calmly said that perhaps we should go to the hospital, where Matan got several stitches. Matan was as cool as a cucumber. 

When Matan was 20 he called me from the racquetball court at the university to let me know that a ball hit him in the eye and that he was having trouble seeing. I called Ora and told her that perhaps we should have a look. The three of us quickly congregated at home, which is fortunately across the street from the University of Miami. Matan could not just “not see clearly” — he nearly lost his eye.

On our way to the hospital, Matan was making jokes that he was going to look like Moshe Dayan, a pretty sexy thing. Ora, meanwhile, was struggling for air. When we arrived at the hospital, all the nurses rushed towards Ora, who looked like she was going to faint. Matan, meanwhile, was making jokes. 

With parents like us, it is a miracle that Matan came out as worry free as he is, which shows that he is either someone else’s son, genetics is baloney, we did a pretty good job at parenting, or, most likely, he never listened to a word we said. 

Not only is Matan worry free, he also has a marvelous predisposition. He was born happy, optimistic, and with a great sense of humor to boot. Once when he was five years old we were driving through pastoral Southern Ontario where we saw lots of cows grazing. He quipped we should rename the country Cownada. 

Making lemonade out of lemons is not my strong suit. Ora recently bought tickets for Matan and Elizabeth, his wife, to come to Miami for a few days. After a great visit we drove them back to the airport, only to find out that Ora and I had made a mistake with the tickets and they didn’t have a flight to go home that day. Ora and I showed spectacular restraint and fought valiantly the urge to blame each other for the mistake, which we nearly did. 

While we were totally devastated at our incompetence, Matan reconstructed the whole experience as an opportunity to go once more to one of his favorite restaurants in Miami. He radiates positivity, charm, charisma, and warmth, which leads me to think that he probably is somebody else’s kid, which has me really worried now. 

Albert Ellis, a famous psychotherapist, used to say that people often engage in “musturbation:” I must do this, I must do that, I must, I must. We must ourselves to death. We let our negative thoughts control us and make us miserable. Here is a list of my top musts:

I must be loved by everybody.

I must leave the house with my clothes on.

I must buy life insurance. 

I must stop worrying.

I must stop buying brown things.

I must get a job with UPS.

I must stop making lists.

Read original column from Miami Herald