Kristina Matisic2013-05-22T12:38:37-04:00Kristina Matisichttp://www.huffingtonpost.ca/author/index.php?author=kristina-matisicCopyright 2008, HuffingtonPost.com, Inc.HuffingtonPost Blogger Feed for Kristina MatisicGood old fashioned elbow grease.Tights ≠ Pantstag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.27185322013-02-20T17:26:32-05:002013-04-22T05:12:01-04:00Kristina Matisichttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/kristina-matisic/tweeted a gentle reminder to women that tights are not pants. You'd think this doesn't need saying, kind of like bras are not tops and cats don't need to be walked. But clearly, I hit a nerve.
The response was surprising and far-reaching. Apparently this is an issue as far away as South Africa. A few guys shot me down, accusing me of ruining a perfectly good peep show. Considering all the fervor, I feel the topic needs more than a 140-character discussion.
Recently I've seen a few young women wearing tights as bottoms out in the world. I'm talking about actual tights. As in pantyhose. As in, pulled tight over the buttocks and somewhat transparent. As in, I've seen things I cannot un-see.
One of them was wearing LACY tights, leaving little to the imagination. Another one perhaps forgot that even an 80-denier tight, when stretched over a larger posterior region, especially in bright sunlight, loses some of its opacity. I almost went full granny on her and gave her my coat to cover up.
By tights, I don't mean workout pants. I understand that for ease of movement, most of us wear body-hugging bottoms when we go to the gym or for a run, and that such a trip usually requires leaving the house where you may spotted by the general public. (Another reminder: when these wear thin, they should be replaced!)
Tights have feet and they're generally purchased in the hosiery department or come in hosiery packaging. They are worn with skirts and dresses, not on their own.
Leggings are thick, opaque tights with no feet. They're meant to go be worn under a long sweater, a looong shirt (tunic), or a dress. These too are not pants.
Some leggings are SUPER THICK and could potentially be worn as pants. Those who can get away with this, I applaud you. Though I'm also somewhat irritated that you're waving your skinny butt in my face.
Unsure? Pick up a mirror and check your front and rear view before you leave the house.
If...
1) You can see your G-string through said leggings
2) You can see dimpling of your butt or legs
3) The word "camel" springs to mind (front view)
4) You need to actually ask someone if what you're wearing is appropriate
]]>I'm No Honey Boo Bootag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.26176472013-02-04T15:50:50-05:002013-04-06T05:12:01-04:00Kristina Matisichttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/kristina-matisic/Realscreen conference in Washington, D.C., where producers and broadcasters from around the world meet to discuss the world of unscripted TV. That means things like reality shows, lifestyle programs, documentaries, and game shows. Basically anything that isn't a scripted drama or comedy, featuring actors.
One thing that I hear at these conferences again and again is that broadcasters are looking for BIG characters. Think Honey Boo Boo, the real Housewives of everywhere, and Jersey Shore. Being loud, obnoxious, and larger-than-life makes for entertaining TV that hooks viewers and makes all the players — broadcasters, talent, producers, advertisers — lots of money.
If you've watched one of our shows or met me in person, you know I am not one of those characters. In fact, I'm amazed they let me on TV at all. In real life, I'm usually the quiet one in the corner. I prefer listening to speaking, and the only rooms I own are the ones in my house.
As a child, I was painfully shy. I literally hid behind my mother's skirts until I was sent off to pre-school. I did stage performances in our living room, but only for an elite audience of four. When I told my parents I wanted to go into broadcasting, they scratched their heads in disbelief.
When I started working in news, live shots made me nauseous, and for the first six months of anchoring the 11:30 news, I had to run to the loo minutes before airtime due to a nervous stomach. These days, we shoot with a relatively small crew. It's intimate and it isn't live. It really does feel like it's just me and my pal, muddling away in the kitchen.
Anna is more outgoing and outspoken than I am, but our A&K shows are a far cry from the screaming matches and cat fighting you often see in the reality genre. Some people think we're funny, a mantle I happily wear.
But most often we hear that our shows resonate because many viewers can relate to us. They're not glued to a slow-mo car crash, they're watching two friends navigating their way through recipes, their relationship, and ultimately, through life.
I'm sure some TV execs would argue that we would be more successful if we threw a tantrum or two. But I maintain there is a place for authentic, quieter people on TV. Lauren Conrad from "The Hills" and Carrie Underwood from "American Idol" are both known for being fairly shy and quiet. Introverted types are also no strangers to the scripted genre. Think of Julianne Margulies' strong yet understated performance on "The Good Wife" or Kristen Stewart's brooding shyness in every interview she's ever given. My heroes!
In her book "Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking," author Susan Cain argues that introverts can and have made valuable contributions to society. Thank you, Susan. I think they can also make valuable contributions to the world of unscripted entertainment. Louder isn't always better. Sometimes, it just ends up giving you a headache.
]]>The Dilemmas Of An ACOD (Adult Child Of Divorce)tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.22146072012-11-30T06:18:32-05:002013-01-30T05:12:01-05:00Kristina Matisichttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/kristina-matisic/
Lots of adults have divorced parents. But far fewer are adults when their parents get a divorce. For years, I thought my parents had if not a perfect marriage, a pretty darn good one. One that was actually going to last and it did, for almost 40 years. But about four years ago, the bottom fell out.
They were 65 and I was 39 and I was totally blindsided. I had just gone through a divorce of my own and the thought of going through another one was overwhelming.
We were a small family to begin with, just the three of us, and the odd cat. I used to like being an only child, getting all my parents' attention (and scrutiny), being hauled off to grown-up events and parties, and traveling with them extensively. By and large, we were a good little unit.
But now that my parents are no longer together, I'm stuck in the middle in a way that only an only child can be. I have been a shoulder to cry on; I've heard stories I never wanted to hear. I've been a therapist, a financial advisor and a friend.
For a long time, I was angry about being dragged into their marital troubles. They didn't seem to appreciate the position they were putting me in, telling me things a kid, (yes, I'm still their kid) shouldn't know. Didn't they watch after school specials? You're supposed to keep your kids out of it.
It took me a long time to draw successful parameters around what I was willing to talk about and what I was willing to hear. I now say, "I can't talk about this with you." It works most of the time.
As anyone who has gone through a divorce knows, the division of assets can be a painful process. And as an ACOD, it's brought up thoughts that don't always sit well. All of a sudden I'm considering, "How will this affect me financially? What will my inheritance be?" Stuff I never gave a second thought to before.
One thing that has been immensely helpful is talking to other ACODs. (Un)fortunately, a close friend has gone through a very similar experience. Other people who were raised in divorced families have also been very supportive in offering advice about how to deal with single parents, new families and super fun new holidays like four Christmases.
Incidentally, a new comedy is coming out entitled ACOD, starring Adam Scott, Amy Poehler and Jane Lynch. I think I'm finally ready to laugh about the craziness of it all. And that's a good thing.
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