It was recommended by FOF woman Deb Kent, who interviewed her, below.
"By turns hilarious and heartbreaking (but mostly hilarious) Marrying George Clooney by Amy Ferris could have been my journal if I actually kept one, from her habit of googling ex-boyfriends at the insomniac hour of 3AM to making peace with a body that continually disappoints, to researching obscure, fatal diseases on the web. Ferris points out that hitting your 50’s brings with it a long overdue clarity—about friends, jobs, family and priorities--and a shoot-from-the-hip honesty. "It's not called the 'fuck you 50’s for nothing," says Amy, who now lives in Dingmans Ferry, Pennsylvania with her husband Ken, who she met on the set of a movie she wrote, Mr. Wonderful. Marrying George Clooney will debut as an off-Broadway play this fall."
FOF Deb: Why George Clooney?
Amy Ferris: Because I had a feeling Charlie Sheen would be arrested for sexual assault. George Clooney is sexy; he's a great actor; he's a philanthropist; he's smart and politically correct. I look at him and I swoon. He's like Angelina Jolie: All that goodness in a great package.
You have an interesting view of menopause.
I see it as an opportunity to fall in love with ourselves. Every single thing I went through as an adolescent--not being good enough, sexual enough, or pretty enough--came up for me again during menopause. I didn’t like myself. I was always looking for approval. You reach a certain age and you stop looking for approval. You embrace who you are. A lot of women who've read this book thank me for giving them permission to accept all their flaws.
You had some big epiphanies about your mother while you were writing this book.
When I hit this age—and I'm not sure if it's an age or an attitude—I knew that if my mother had been one of my friends, I would have dropped her. I can remember very distinctly, if I ever said, "I'm feeling…" my mother would say, “I don't want to hear about it.” It wasn't okay to be myself. At some point you realize that you shouldn’t stuff your feelings. I don't think any of us should.
I cracked up when I read that your decision not to have kids came down to priorities: It was a choice between kids or having the cash to shop at Barneys. What’s the real reason?
Honestly, there were moments I’d wake up and think, today I want to have a baby. But those were literally moments. I’m not a very maternal person. When I met Ken, he already had a son and didn’t want more kids. If I mentioned having a baby he’d say, ‘Yeah, that’s nice.’ He knew my impulsive side. I knew I would never be able to love a child and nurture a child in a way that all children deserve to be nurtured.
In your book you write about breaking up with friends—and a friend breaking up with you. How did your view of friendships change once you hit your 50s?
When I was younger, I liked the idea of having 25 friends. That’s not a circle of friends. It’s a bowling league. When you get older, you start to value yourself more, and you realize that you have friends who only call you when they’re in trouble. Eliminating toxic people is a way of declaring, ‘I want more of a give and take in my relationships with women.’ I have extraordinary friends in my life now. We’d take a bullet for each other.
Your book is being produced as a play. You must be so excited.
Ecstatic. Sean Strub said I was the David Sedaris of menopausal women. I want to be the David Mamet of menopausal women. What would you tell a younger woman who’s looking down the long barrel of menopause and is scared? I’d tell her, ‘Jump off that cliff because you’re going to fly. I thought my 30s were really cool but nothing beats your 50s.’
