The Brand of Being Human

Friendship and Feminine Wiles

Some women online go off on full-blown male-hating rants, accusing others of “internalized misogyny,” but often miss the nuance. Not every questionable male behavior is part of a plot to keep women barefoot and pregnant. Sometimes, the guy just isn’t thinking that deep. Instead of stepping back and considering this, they label every action as a threat to feminism.

And yes, the old debate is still going: can men and women truly be just friends? I know they can, because I've lived it. Are there nuances? Of course. But I've been lucky to have a best friend who happens to be male, straight, and married. We even joke he's more like a woman than a man with how he processes emotions. That said, he's told me more than once that if a man is looking at me, helping me, or striking up a conversation, it's because he wants to sleep with me.

That infuriates me. Partly because, yeah, there's a little truth to it. I get that on a primal level, men are wired a certain way. And maybe, at first glance, they are having those thoughts. But it’s insulting to think that's all it is. Maybe they're just not attracted to me. Maybe they are, but still see me as someone worth listening to. Maybe-crazy thought-they respect me.

My best friend knows how much this eats at me. I want to be taken seriously. I don't want to believe a smart, thoughtful conversation I had was just a way of undressing me with their eyes. It sounds ridiculous. And honestly, it’s gross. Gross in the way it’s gross to imagine your parents having sex. I’m not naïve about how men and women operate, but I try to approach each person as an individual -not a walking stereotype.

And I remember every man who’s treated me with real respect. Not the transactional kind. I mean the ones who were genuinely curious about what I had to say, who gave me their full attention, who made it feel mutual. That kind of connection is rare, and I don’t take it for granted. Saying I respect those men is an understatement.

Sure, maybe my best friend is right. Maybe some of them had their own fantasies. But what mattered to me was how they showed up on the surface. I can usually tell when the energy shifts, when it stops being platonic. Just like you can tell when someone’s fishing for a compliment or testing for mutual interest. Even when I sensed those feelings, I tried not to encourage anything inappropriate. I wasn’t trying to use my femininity to get ahead. Honestly, I almost wish I’d learned how to.

The closest thing my parents gave me to a birds-and-bees talk was my father saying, “Don’t lead men on.” That one line stuck so deeply it shaped more of my behavior than it should have. I steered so far in the opposite direction, I never really got the chance to understand what some women call their “feminine wiles.”

It’s an old-fashioned term, but I like it. There’s something unapologetic about it-a quiet nod to women who’ve used charm or flirtation to gain an edge in a world that rarely hands one over. I wasn’t that woman-not because I judged them. I just didn’t know how. The one message I’d internalized about male-female dynamics was: Don’t give them the wrong idea. So I didn’t.

Identity Crisis

I had another great conversation with a male friend who's been encouraging me through this writing process. I love our talks...they're part therapy, part writing workshop, part life story exchange. He’s 69 and managed to pull off not one, but two childhood dreams. He’s big on past lives and tells me that if I don’t fulfill my dreams in this one, I will in the next. Comforting, sure-but not the fire I need right now. We laughed about that.

What we did talk seriously about was the fear that comes with being authentic. Especially for me, as a woman. There’s a tension I can’t shake-that being emotionally naked in my writing could make me a target. Men from my past have even suggested my openness may have hurt job prospects. It sounds far-fetched- especially when powerful men can weather scandal after scandal. Let’s be real: everyone has skeletons.

So what are mine?

I used to be terrified that if people knew my real story-the violence, the chaos, the sexual undertones in my parents’ history-they’d see me as damaged. Unhireable. I don’t carry that fear anymore. If someone sees my truth and writes me off, that’s on them.

Still, I wonder: did taking a risk in 2012 to pitch content to The Howard Stern Show for his SiriusXM channel, Howard 101 cast a shadow over my career? Because honestly, being in that world-building The LoLo Show, collaborating with creative minds was one of the most joyful times of my life.

When I launched The LoLo Show, it was just an internet radio pilot. No video. God, I wish there had been. People never saw how much prep went into it. Behind-the-scenes footage would’ve told the real story.

A writer friend recently suggested I pitch my writing to a women-centric magazine. It felt like a great fit after I checked out her work. I’ll admit- part of me saw it as a way to legitimize what I was doing. If my writing appeared in a print publication, maybe people would take it seriously. Maybe it wouldn’t scare off employers or brand partners.

We talked about how ridiculous it is that, at our age, we still care what people think. But we do.

Turns out, the publisher wasn’t looking for writers. She wanted influencers. Big online followings. And while I have a presence, I don’t dominate any one platform. The irony? I’ve spent years preaching the value of social media and brand-building-I just never did it for myself.

That might’ve been my biggest branding mistake.

Back when I owned Beautyworx Salon & Day Spa before I closed it in 2011-people didn’t even call me Lois. They’d yell, “Hey, Beautyworx!” Maybe it’s because no one could pronounce Lois (a lifelong issue, lol), or maybe because I was the brand. I promoted the business, the team, the services. But never myself. I was like Oz, pulling the levers from behind the curtain.

So when I transitioned into broadcasting and launched The LoLo Show, people didn’t know what to make of it. “Who’s Lo-Lo?” they asked. The shift confused them. I’ll never forget when a friend publicly posted on Facebook-in all caps-that I was OBSESSED with Howard Stern and suggested I needed psychological help. I was floored. Not just by the judgment, but by how much she misunderstood what I was doing.

This wasn’t idol worship. This was admiration for an entertainer who worked in the same medium as my father. Someone whose raw honesty inspired me to be bold. I was building a community. I was being embraced by Stern fans. It had nothing to do with blowouts or body scrubs. I wasn’t “Beautyworx” anymore.

Even my cohost, Joe DeLong, got it. In an article for the Chestnut Hill Local, he said:

“There’s no doubt Lois is onto something. The question is how to move beyond ‘this is the female Howard Stern’ to ‘this is an articulate, funny, business-minded broadcaster who can speak her mind and happens to be a woman.’ Once we know that, there’s no stopping The LoLo Show.”

He was right. Lo-Lo was a stepping stone. But separating persona from person is tricky. Especially for women.

Mariska Hargitay, actress and daughter of Jayne Mansfield, talks about distancing herself from her mother’s sex-symbol image, frustrated that her intelligence was overlooked in favor of her bra size. I could relate. Growing up, people would ask if I was going to be a stripper like my mom. I wasn't embarrassed by her-but I deeply resented being reduced to a sex object. I wanted to be known for more.

As my body matured, I began celebrating my femininity through clothes and makeup. I grew up in a photo-centric household- my brother was constantly taking pictures of me with his Brownie camera. Taking "glamour shots" was just what we did, long before smartphones or the internet. It was art. It was expression. It was connection.

The Howard Stern Universe

I’m the daughter of a controversial radio host whose career was cut short because of opinions he couldn’t stop sharing. My childhood was full of turmoil, poverty, judgment, and violence. My father would land radio jobs in cities like Boston, Philly, New Orleans-he had a reputation for growing audiences. But the cycle was always the same: he’d get fired for saying too much. By the time I was born, he was unemployable.

“Free speech” was our family motto. So was the First Amendment. But the price was high: threats, bullying, bomb scares, fear our house would be burned down. My father refused to work outside radio or TV.

So yeah, I connected with Howard Stern. I wasn’t a regular listener-I wasn’t into rock radio-but I saw him on TV and talk shows. His humor, his rebellious energy, his raw honesty? It reminded me of what I loved about early SNL. It reminded me of my dad.

Howard fought the FCC, sponsors, and gatekeepers. And he won. He took control of his career and built a loyal audience willing to pay to follow him to satellite radio. That kind of connection? That was the dream for The LoLo Show. Not to shock. Not to be famous. But to be real. To build a community.

Did that connection to Stern hurt my brand? Maybe. People saw LoLo as a fantasy. They assumed I had an OnlyFans. They didn’t get it. I was trying to build something meaningful. Something that honored my father’s legacy. And my own.

But women in media get reduced to their sex appeal fast. It’s hard to separate the persona from the person. And honestly? I’m not sure I even want to.