Bad Habits (23 page)

I was the awareness behind my situation, watching it unfold, and it was fucking awesome!

My friend Laura from college called me and said she was heading out to Los Angeles for a visit and I had better not be going through one of my “phases.”

I knew what she meant because I was knee-deep shit in my phase.

Again, I downshifted and brought myself back to AM. Again, I hoped that Eckhart Tolle was right and that I would be back on satellite radio sooner than last time.

I was lying in bed next to Evan writing this book, and he asked if he could take my computer and write his own chapter.

Here it is:

A few years ago, I did a TV show pilot that had me interview a nun about Heaven and Hell.

I couldn’t think of a better person in the world to interview. Woohoo!

I flew my mother out to Los Angeles to be there for the taping. I knew she would love to see me bring Hollywood and God together in any way possible. She wore her Sunday best church outfit and her hair was set perfectly, just like old times.

I started the segment by saying, “Sister Elizabeth, many people have their own perceptions of what Hell is like. Can you describe the scene a sinner might expect upon his or her arrival in Hell?”

“The Catholic Church has never stated anyone was ever in Hell,” she replied very matter-of-factly.

“Excuse me?” I said with my mouth hanging open. My uterus fell into my vagina. “I think I misunderstood you,” I said. “I thought I just heard you say no one is in Hell.”

“That’s right. We never made a statement about it.”

A familiar voice shouted from the audience, “What the hell is she talking about?” My mother was shouting from the bleachers with her hands on her hips.

I composed myself and tried to channel my inner Diane Sawyer, but as soon as I was about to say something, I froze. I flashed back to all the moments the nuns taught me about Hell. I flashed back to the ninety million homilies from priests warning me about the wrath of Hell. I flashed back to when I was a little girl who used to think God was glorious and then also feared Him because He could send me to Hell!

This wasn’t fair.

I wanted to cry.

I wanted to knock the table over.

I wanted to pull off the nun’s habit, point my finger in her face, and call her another hypocrite in my life.

But I didn’t.

I composed myself and spoke. “You can understand, Sister, that this statement seems out of nowhere considering many Catholics were taught that Hell is where you go if you commit a mortal sin and don’t confess it.”

“Theologians developed an image of Hell with punishment, but we have yet to prove that anyone is there.”

I then heard JoJo. (She has been my makeup artist for the past fifteen years. Even though we live together, I’m grateful she doesn’t crawl into my bed and pee on me anymore.) Anyway, I heard JoJo cough loudly in the audience in the tone of calling “bullshit.”

I flashed her a secret sisters smirk. I felt compelled to suddenly fulfill my own personal vendetta against this nun, but I knew it wasn’t the time or place.

I straightened up and tried to stick to the script.

I couldn’t.

“Sister, so you are saying theologians made up an image of Hell with people burning in a pit of flames, and it’s our fault for believing that image literally?”

“Well, yes. No one is in Hell.”

On the outside I was completely calm.

On the inside I was reeling and tiring from my triple-decade mental crusade to uncover the truth.

Later that day, when I got home, I realized I had finally lost faith in religion. The contradictions, the guilt, the shame, my mom and dad believing they’re going to Hell, the priest molestation cover-up; it all felt darn right dirty.

My new path of staying tuned in to satellite radio was what made me feel amazing and connected to the outside world as well as myself. I was empowered more than ever and compassionate toward others. I didn’t want to be part of this contradictory religion anymore. I was beyond twelve steps into recovery.

After enduring twelve years of Catholic school; numerous life coaches, yogis, gurus, and astrologers; and hundreds of spiritual books and meetings with many different religious sectors, I’ve come to realize that we are all a little right and we are all a little wrong.

The most wonderful thing we have in common is faith.

When I invited the Mormons to come over to do a blessing on Evan after his seizure, I was so taken aback by the power of their faith. They didn’t care that I told them I didn’t want to become Mormon but I still wanted them to do this prayer for my son because I had heard it worked. They didn’t bat an eye. I watched them put their hands on Evan and pray, and I was so moved by what moved them—their faith.

No matter what religion people choose to live by, I came to realize that their choice is ultimately what is best for them.

Who cares if someone prays to an elephant if that elephant puts them in a state of grace?

The holy wars are what get us into trouble. If people minded their own business as far as religion is concerned and didn’t get caught up in saving other people’s souls, they just might be able to save their own souls and bless those around them with their contagious state of euphoria.

Indeed, the world needs more love.

Today, I looked up at the sky like I used to do when I was a little girl. The sun was shining on me and I felt the warm breeze glide across my face. God feels glorious again … exactly how I felt when I was a little girl. No more fear of His wrath giving me a cold shoulder. Just warmth. Just love.

I am awake.

I’m on satellite radio. I’m not sure how long I’ll stay on it—maybe a few months this time if I’m lucky. Unless, of course, someone has tooth surgery. Then I’m totally pooping a Vicodin pebble.

After reading this book, some people still might call me a sinner; shame me for my bad habits. I prefer to think of myself as an ambitious student thriving in this awesome school called “life.” Thank you for sharing this journey with me.

Kerri Kolen, my kickass editor: Thanks for being talented and cool and accepting my invitation to join me for some drinks in Hell after writing this book.

Jennifer Rudolph Walsh, my amazing book agent: Thanks for always having my back and for having bigger balls than Ari.

Bill Kempin, the
Kansas City Star
doesn’t know how lucky they are. You are not only an amazing friend but one hell of a writer. Thanks for making me sound smarter and for being the most amazing fact-checker of Catholicism next to the pope. Your mom should be proud! Follow Bill
@BillKempin
or
www.billkempin.com
.

Danielle Alicia Skalnik, who knew Jesus was a comedian? Bitch, you are funny, talented, and need to be writing more. Thank you for the extra laughs you brought to this last supper. Bless you my child. Follow Danielle
@theatricalism
.

Kathleen McVey, thank you for finding my photos. Without you, there would be no proof that I existed as a child. Considering we both got letters from you know who … I’ll see you in Hell too. Follow Kathleen
@kathleenthame.

Follow me at

@JennyMcCarthy

Jenny McCarthy
is the author of six bestsellers, from the comedic
Belly Laughs, Baby Laughs, Life Laughs, and Love, Lust & Faking It
to her highly regarded books on autism,
Louder than Words
and
Mother Warriors
, and she is coauthor of the bestselling
Preventing Autism
(written with Dr. Jerry Kartzinel). She has appeared in many films and television shows, graced the covers of magazines around the world, been a spokesperson for Weight Watchers, and is currently the president of Generation Rescue (www.generationrescue.org). McCarthy lives in Los Angeles with her son, Evan.

Dearest Reader,

By now you might be wondering: Jenny McCarthy has more to say?! After six
New York Times
bestsellers,† I’ve talked about pregnancy, autism, and motherhood. I hope you’ve enjoyed it. I hope it’s made you laugh and cry and all those things that bestselling books about such topics by funny people are supposed to do.

But this book is about something entirely new—a subject that has pervaded my life since birth and confused the f*ck out of me for about the same time: Catholicism. As I enter into adulthood (play along, thanks), I think I may have finally figured out this faith thing. And what it means to me. But first, I had to reflect on my life. And my memoir,
Bad Habits
, is the fruit (not the Eve’s apple kind) of that labor.

Bad Habits
is my journey from aspiring nun at an all-girls Catholic school in the suburbs of Chicago, to Playmate of the Year, to autism awareness activist, to bestselling author, to host of my very own talk show … and all the Hail Marys in between. After reading this book, you’ll know why you should wear underwear to church, why Jesus was my Justin Bieber (he’s totally hawt!), and why I had to give up giving sh*t up for Lent.

Bad Habits
is also my personal examination of faith and how it turns out to surprise us at the most unexpected moments. It is a book of confessions about confession! I’ve tried to be brutally honest, though it might read as more like embarrassingly entertaining, and I’m always outlandish so that’s in here too. But truly, this book is sinfully hilarious.†

Bless you my children,

Jenny

† My publisher made me say this.

Confessions about Jenny McCarthy

“Like spending an afternoon with your best friend, a copy of
Cosmo
, and a low-fat milkshake.”

—Susan Jane Gilman, NPR

“Hilarious.”

—
Time Out New York

“Like a gossipy girlfriend, McCarthy brings you in and makes you laugh.”

—
Booklist

“McCarthy is undeniably crass but funny, and her candor and self-deprecation are refreshing.”

—
Publishers Weekly

ALSO BY
J
ENNY
M
C
C
ARTHY

Love, Lust & Faking It

Healing and Preventing Autism

Mother Warriors

Louder than Words

Life Laughs

Baby Laughs

Belly Laughs

Grateful acknowledgment is made to the following for permission to reproduce illustrations in the text:
End of
chapter 20
(Jenny in new role as Bunny): photograph courtesy of Ron Galella/Ron Galella Collection/Getty Images. End of
chapter 22
(
Playboy
cover): photograph ©
Playboy
. End of
chapter 25
(Jenny at book signing): photograph courtesy of Alberto E. Rodriguez/Getty Images Entertainment/Getty Images. End of
chapter 28
(Jenny praying): photograph © Adam Bouska. All other photographs courtesy of Jenny McCarthy.