Dear Luz #17

By Luz Michelle

Artwork by Justin Negard

Disclaimer: It’s okay to laugh—this is a humor column! We welcome your Dear Luz questions, but we’re legally obligated to say this is not a substitute for real advice by professionals.

Dear Luz,

I have zero privacy. My parents overshare everywhere—social media, family parties, even college tours. They broadcast my failed chemistry trimesters, fights with my brother and embarrassing health stuff like IBS. I’ve asked them to stop, but they just laugh and say, “That’s how life works.” How do I make them quit?

—Embarrassed Teen

Dear TMI’d,

Oh babe, I felt secondhand embarrassment just reading that. This isn’t a “let them” moment—it’s a shut it down, respectfully, moment. Next time you’re at a party, lead with, “This is my mom—ask her about that weird mole she’s been Googling.” Then calmly, lovingly and seriously tell them it’s not okay. Boundaries aren’t rude—they’re survival.

Dear Luz,

My wife is having a midlife crisis and decided to become a “professional artist.” I love and support her, but I need to be honest with her. How do I tell her painting isn’t her thing? If it was just a hobby, I wouldn’t say anything, but she thinks she’s good enough to have a career, and everyone who has seen her “work” is too nice to say otherwise.

—Loving Husband

Dear Mister Monet-No,

First off—midlife crisis? That’s what we’re calling growth now? Your wife isn’t spiraling; she’s evolving.

Every artist starts somewhere—yes, even at the “oof” stage. But she’s doing something bold, something most people don’t have the guts to do: change.

And when she asks for feedback, lead with kindness, not a Yelp review. In the meantime? Go find yourself a hobby, boo.

Dear Luz,

My dad’s super anti-establishment and signs all my school forms as “Mr. Pickles” because he says no one reads them anyway. It’s been funny since third grade, but I’m starting high school and worried teachers will think I’m forging signatures. What should I do?

—I Don’t Even Like Pickles

Dear Child of Pickles,

Honestly? Let Mr. Pickles live. It’s weird; it’s hilarious and kinda iconic. If anyone questions it, just shrug and say, “Talk to the Pickle.” That’s the legacy.

Dear Luz,

My friend keeps dragging me over for dinner, but honestly, she and her husband can’t cook. Like, it’s a culinary crime scene. I’m out of excuses and don’t want to hurt her feelings or lose the friendship, but how do I politely dodge dinner invites forever without becoming the villain?

—Fan of Edible Food

Dear Dinner? I’d Rather Fast,

Girl, just say, “I’m on a strict ‘no food that looks like a science experiment’ diet.” This is your friend; use your words. Or better yet, suggest a restaurant next time—because nothing says friendship like outsourcing your culinary trauma. Love ‘em, dodge the kitchen chaos, and keep your stomach (and friendship) happy. You’re welcome.

This article was published in the July/August 2025 edition of Connect to Northern Westchester.