The show, or life, must go on

I've been a bit under-the-weather this week, which got me thinking about Lucy's approach to health and wellness.

Madame Ricardo was rarely sick, though the art of feigning illness was a well-played card in her deck. Any true injury or malady suffered was usually a condition Lucy accidentally brought upon herself in a botched attempt to reach a goal.

Been there, done that.

In Episode 3, "The Diet," Lucy will stop at nothing to lose twelve pounds in four days, a metamorphosis that would make her just the right size for a dancing costume in Ricky's show at the Tropicana. Lucy's self-imposed diet/exercise program is more punishing than any stunt on "The Biggest Loser" (have any of those contestants ever spent five hours in a pressure cooker box or wrestled table scraps from a dog?). Doubtful that she'll lose the weight, Ricky hires another dancer. Fortunately, when that dancer quits at the last minute, Lucy has successfully shrunk herself down to size and steps in to much applause. Unfortunately, the poor dear has to be wheeled away on a stretcher post-performance due to malnutrition - but not before handing Ethel a set of keys to the closet where the dancer who "quit" is trapped, bound and gagged. (The moral of the story? Dieting makes us crazy. I have too many stories in this vein to recount.)

No matter how horribly Lucy mutilated herself in the name of stardom, she always went on with the show, a most admirable trait.

In Episode 20, "The Fashion Show," Lucy eagerly volunteers to walk the runway for famous designer Don Loper as a "celebrity wife." All of the wives will be wearing their own dresses from his salon, Loper explains. No problem, figures Lucy, who doesn't actually own one of the exclusive garments: She'll just buy a dress, one simple dress. "You didn't ask how much it costs," hisses Ethel in the showroom. "Ethel, you don't ask the price in a place like this," says Lucy. "You don't?" "Of course not," explains Lucy. "You wait until they turn their back and sneak a look at the price tag."

No backs are turned, so Lucy blindly purchases a dress and waits until she gets back to the hotel (this was during the California season) to check the tag, which reads a whopping $500. The gown has already been altered to fit and can't be returned, so Lucy figures her only hope is to spend the day at the pool and get horribly sunburned - Ricky wouldn't dare hit her then, would he?

Ricky doesn't lose his temper, but Lucy endures a terrible amount of physical pain nonetheless when Loper switches her runway look to a scratchy tweed suit at the last minute (such a soothing fabric against angry red skin). Still, she staggers through the show, albeit stiffly.

The closest I ever came to a moment like burnt-to-a-crisp Lucy's was long ago, back when I was a young aspiring actress in a touring production of "Godspell." The night before a big performance I clumsily dropped a glass on my foot, leaving a gash deep enough in my big toe to require stitches. The show must go on, my director reminded me (as did my moral compass, set to follow in the footsteps of Lucy). I made it through our next two performances in a wheelchair, which screwed up the dance numbers considerably but made me an audience favorite. Took me a while to figure out this was because they thought I was actually disabled, but whatever.

Years later, as a single mother, I find Lucy's brand of stubborn stamina an inspiration in surprisingly practical ways. Just because I wake up with a fever of 103 doesn't mean my kids don't need their breakfasts made, their lunches packed, and a ride to school. The show must go on, my inner Lucy reminds me.

And so it does.

Love, Lucy-Style

Lucy: Hey Ethel, guess what Ricky got me?

Ethel: Um…let’s see. A hat? A new dress?

Lucy: Oh, Ethel, better! Think about what every woman wants from her husband.

Ethel: A divorce?

Challenge me on this one if you choose, but it’s my belief that over half a century since Lucy and Ricky made an art of marital sparring, relationships between men and women haven’t changed all that much. Never mind that most households are now double-income, or the fact that wives are no longer expected to honor and “obey” their husbands to the same degree. Behind closed doors – or, screw that, oftentimes in public – men are men and women are women and very intelligent people who have made it their lives’ work to study this kind of thing have all kinds of statistics to back me up. (Also, pretty much every woman I’ve ever known agrees with me.)

In other words, we still feel the need to go to great lengths to keep our men interested, to keep the flame burning (oh no? So that last bikini wax was for your own benefit? Please.). Lucy got jealous when a new dancing girl at the Tropicana gave Ricky the eye, but do we not feel the same sense of steaming suspicion when some attractive female Facebook “friend” posts a possibly flirty message on our boyfriend’s wall?

When we modern girls feel taken for granted or doubtful of our partner’s undying affection, our options are limited. We can “talk” to him about our needs and how they’re not being met, carefully phrasing each sentence: “When you do or don’t (fill in the blank), it makes me feel (fill in the blank).” Has this method worked as well for you as it has for me? (Which is to say, not at all?) We can vent to a girlfriend. We can bury our emotions and then blow up over “nothing,” screaming about a dirty dish left on the table or the toilet seat left up. Or, we can ask ourselves…What Would Lucy Do?

Lucy would don a brunette wig, off-the-shoulder blouse and hoop earrings and pretend to be a sultry stranger to test Ricky’s wandering eye. In Episode 93, “The Black Wig,” Lucy does just that, inspired by the chic Italian haircut of a sexy screen goddess. “I flirted with him a little and what do you think he had the nerve to do? He flirted back!” she tells Ethel bitterly. “He called me ‘honey’ in a tone I haven’t heard since before we were married!” Ethel is sure Ricky knew it was Lucy all along (which he did, thanks to a tip-off from the owner of the beauty parlor where Lucy got her wig), but is still intrigued enough by the scenario to agree to go along with the next phase of Lucy’s scheme and similarly disguise herself for a double “date” with Fred and Ricky. Unfortunately, Ethel gets stuck with a cobbled-together costume made up of a geisha girl’s wig, a fringed Native American dress and Eskimo’s fur coat (“You look like an ad for a trip around the world,” says Lucy).

I’ve never actually disguised myself to test a man’s fidelity, but that’s only because high-quality wigs are prohibitively expensive. I do, however, share Lucy’s jealous streak. Also like Lucy, I loathe to be ignored. In Episode 98, “Lucy Cries Wolf,” Ricky’s distant behavior at the breakfast table is the catalyst for the day’s shenanigans. Hiding behind his newspaper, Ricky doesn’t respond when Lucy asks him, repeatedly, whether he’d like more coffee. Lucy refills his cup anyway, causing Ricky to yell after his next surprisingly scalding sip.

“I’m sorry I burned you, but it’s no fun sitting here watch you read the newspaper,” Lucy says. For a moment, it looks like Ricky is going to put his paper away, but he hands her a section to read instead. Disgruntled, Luc y happens upon an article about a woman who was brutally burglarized after her husband ignored her calls for help. “That man didn’t love his wife very much,” Lucy concludes before asking if Ricky would “come home the minute I called” to say she was being robbed.

“What for, we’re insured,” says Ricky, but soon pacifies Lucy by promising that he would “fly from the ends of the earth” if he sensed she were in the slightest danger.

Lucy is comforted, but skeptical. So later that day, she calls Ricky at the club about a “horrible, strange-looking man” on the fire escape. “He’s seven feet tall! You better come home, hurry, hurry!”

Moments later, a frantic Ethel and Fred burst into the Ricardo’s apartment. “Ricky called us from the club! Are you all right?”

Lucy is disappointed. “How do you like that? Here I am in terrible danger and he just sits by the phone. I could have been murdered while he was waiting for a call back.”

“You still might be,” says Fred. “My blood pressure has better things to do than play He loves me, He loves me not.”

I will admit that I have modified and used this tactic to my advantage once or twice. Frustrated after a long night of waiting for my then-boyfriend to return my calls (as was usually the case in that relationship), I burst into tears when, around midnight, he finally got back to me.

“I’ve been calling you all night because I thought I heard someone trying to break in my front door,” I said between sobs. “And I kept hearing these weird noises outside…”

Looking back, I don’t know why this guy’s response wasn't: “So why didn’t you call the cops?” Instead, his voice got very soft and he apologized for not calling back earlier. “I’m so sorry, you must have been so scared,” he said. “I’ll always call you back right away from now on.”

My plan backfired slightly over the coming months, when the boyfriend grew increasingly paranoid about me going anywhere by myself at night (he was a possessive sort, anyway) and insisted on buying a gun for me to keep in the house. But in that first moment, boy! Lucy's ruse worked like a charm.

Ever try a similar strategy? C'mon, confess...

Lucy is my co-pilot

• It's a helluva start, being able to recognize what makes you happy.

—Lucille Ball

Welcome to What Would Lucy Do? Following the Gospel of a Comedy Goddess, my guide to living life according to the word of her hennaed highness.

First, allow me to do some 'splainin.

I am not a therapist. I am not a member of any clergy, or a life coach, or a spiritual advisor, or even particularly well-adjusted.

I am not technically qualified to give anyone advice on anything (despite the fact that I sort of do that for a living, as a writer for magazines that give women tips on everything from potty traning to staying fit. But basically I bluff my way through that, a skill I learned from…that’s right, Lucy!).

I am, however, a lifelong fan of Lucille Ball. I grew up watching many, many reruns of “I Love Lucy.” usually when home sick from school with a feigned illness (hmm, did I learn that trick from Lucy, too?). Of course I grew up doing other things, too. I went to school – when I wasn’t pretending to be sick – and church, and read books and took piano lessons and ballet and obediently participated in all kinds of stuff intended to teach me how to live a good, productive life; to grow into a successful, well-rounded, respectable woman.

But here’s the thing:

Now that I’m an adult, and have been for…a while…I find myself turning to the lessons I learned from Lucy more often than I recall the words of any sage or scribe, any well-meaning guidance counselor or credentialed mentor.

For example, consider the time my downstairs neighbors were putting up a (very unreasonable) stink about the (barely discernable) footsteps of my three-year-old daughter. Probably the correct response from me would have been to “turn the other cheek,” as I was instructed in catholic school decades ago. Instead, I enlisted my then-husband in a foot-stamping, cookware-dropping crusade intended to drive them away for good. (And they thought our kid was loud! Ha!) Sound familiar? It should: My plan was inspired by I Love Lucy Episode 18, “Breaking the Lease,” in which Lucy and Ricky wage earsplitting war against Ethel and Fred, who dared to complain about the Ricardos’ rousing late-night rendition of “Sweet Sue.”

My redheaded guru has also been an invaluable source of wisdom when it comes to money. Someone like Suze Orman, for example, warns against engaging in things like fraud, tax evasion, and running from credit card debt. That’s all well and good, but hasn’t Suze ever found herself in a pinch she couldn’t pay for? In my day, I have answered phone calls from collection agencies in a foreign accent and denied knowledge of any such person with my name. I have kept (and cashed) duplicate checks sent in error by an employer. I have charged items on my deceased father’s credit card (hey, it’s not like he’s going to get in any trouble for it at this point. What are they gonna do, drop his credit rating?).

Lucy understood and accepted that such creative financial tactics are a sometimes-necessary evil. Seems I was paying attention when The Queen of the Gypsies herself financed the Wednesday Afternoon Fine Arts League operetta by writing it with Ethel and paying for costumes and scenery with a post-dated check (Episode 38, “The Operetta”). Even more so when Lucy turned a punishing budget imposed by Ricky’s business manager to her advantage by charging all of the neighbors’ groceries on her store account – and pocketing their cash for herself (Episode 100, “The Business Manager”). Most of all, I believe I was influenced by the sheer brilliance displayed in Episode 137, “Ricky’s European Booking,” in which Lucy and Ethel hold a raffle for their phony charity, The Ladies Overseas Aid, in the hopes of funding a trip to Europe. (“We’re ladies. We want to go overseas. And boy, do we need aid!” rationalized Lucy.)

Here at What Would Lucy Do? Following the Gospel of a Comedy Goddess, I hope to offer such refreshingly screwball solutions to practical matters. From relationship troubles to friendship foibles to career roadblocks, Lucy could finesse her way out of just about any fix – or at least give everyone a good laugh in the attempt. If Lucy founded a church, what would her commandments be? What would a self-help book by Lucy say?

WWLD? Stay tuned to find out...