The pixie-like Cyndi Lauper, whose 1983 hit song “Girls Just Want to Have Fun” became a global anthem and encouraged women of all ages to follow its advice, has a certain allure.
Lauper epitomizes style. Her message of self-empowerment stems from her colorful hair, unique fashion, and funny, carefree personality.
But the performer is really dealing with a serious skin ailment called psoriasis, which at one point was so aggressive that “it looked like someone threw boiling water on me.” This is hidden behind the comical voice that makes her listeners feel happy.
The 69-year-old pop icon recently talked about how she has been fighting psoriasis, an incurable chronic skin ailment, since her diagnosis in 2010.
The symptoms of psoriasis might include scaly patches, extreme pain, itching, and discomfort. The skin condition affects an estimated 125 million people globally and 8 million people in the United States.
When Lauper first started experiencing symptoms, such as general pain and scalp irritations, these got worse with time.
The celebrated performer experienced both physical and mental distress as a result of the outbursts, which she initially blamed to her frequent hair dyeing.
The singer of “Time after Time” is an activist, a touring music sensation, and a busy mother.
As an advocate for human rights, motivated by her lesbian sister Ellen, Lauper dedicates her life to helping the LGBT community.
“Above the Clouds,” a song she wrote in 2005, was dedicated to Matthew Shepard, a gay student who was killed by beating in Wyoming in 2005. Additionally, she started the “True Colors” concert tour in 2007–2008, which raises money for LGBT foundations and charities in the community and beyond.
Apart from her advocacy work, Lauper has a strong background as an actor, singer, and songwriter. Over the course of her four-decade career, Lauper won multiple accolades, including the Tony Award, two Grammy Awards, an MTV Music Video Award, and an Emmy Award for her 1995 cameo in a Mad About You episode.
In 2013, she was invited as a special guest to U.S. President Barrack Obama’s second inauguration for her humanitarian endeavors. She also has a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame and is inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame.
Despite her illness, Lauper is a true force to be reckoned with. The True Colors singer is learning how to control her stress, which can cause a flare-up, in order to prevent her psoriasis from taking control of her life.
She composed the music and lyrics for the Broadway hit musical Kinky Boots, which won her a Tony Award for Best Original Score, while suffering from severe attacks of psoriasis at the time of her diagnosis. Lauper is the first female Tony winner in that particular category. Five further Tony Awards were won by the production, including Best New Musical.
In an effort to assist others, Lauper shares her honest story of living with an autoimmune skin disorder in an interview with the American Academy of Dermatology (AAD).
“I’ve never been very good at handling stress.” She continued, saying that she has healed and reduced stress both at home and while traveling using a holistic approach. She researched reiki, a Japanese method of relaxation and stress relief, and stated, “That helps me.”
Apart from reiki, Lauper deliberately tries to maintain her groundedness through yoga, meditation, and outdoor walks with her dog and/or husband, David Thornton, whom she wed in 1991. Born in 1997, the couple has one son.
“Taking care of oneself is not a bad thing,” Lauper declared, urging others to “make a little time for you every day.”
You can begin modestly. She went on, “How about five minutes for you?”
Resiliently, Lauper states that “it’s really hard to get up again when psoriasis gets really bad.” She occasionally had chills due to an inability to control her body temperature, which can result in hypothermia. Even when she rested, the pain persisted, and the discomfort was exacerbated by others who downplayed the severity of the issue by stating that it was merely a rash.
You don’t have to go through pain, Lauper stated. Psoriasis can be treated with topical, oral, or injectable medications to decrease its often-intense effects. Lauper claims to be “four years clear” after using Novartis’ Cosentyx, which provided her great relief.
In 2017, Lauper discussed her psoriasis management with HealthDay.
It’s strange how you start wearing gloves or other items in the hopes that your psoriasis won’t show, but it doesn’t. I didn’t wear it with a sense of excitement or admiration. Everyone hides it, don’t they? The number of people who have it but keep it a secret could surprise you. It’s a topic worth discussing because it’s one of those things that is somewhat invisible.
She discusses it on her podcast, PsO in the Know, where she interviews psoriasis sufferers, advocates, and celebrities who share their experiences with the disease.
Currently in its third season, the show may be downloaded from Stitcher, Pandora, Google Podcasts, Spotify, Apple Podcasts, and Pandora.
Not all celebrities, including Lauper, have psoriasis. Kim Kardashian, 42, was given a diagnosis at the age of 30, and she is candid about her difficulties. Kris Jenner, her mother of 67 years, experienced her first breakout in her late 20s and described it as “life-changing.” A few more well-known people with psoriasis are musician Art Garfunkel, 81, actor Jon Lovitz, 65, and Jerry Mathers, 74, also known as “The Beaver.”
We are really lucky to have role models like Cyndi Lauper who use their platform to support others in overcoming obstacles. We can’t fathom a world without her gifts and journey—what a courageous woman she is!
MY HUSBAND LEFT ME AND OUR KIDS FOR HIS MISTRESS – I WAS FURIOUS AND TOOK MY REVENGE.
The bitterness tasted like ash in my mouth. How could he? How could he just walk away, leaving us like discarded toys? Mark, my husband of fifteen years, the man I’d built a life with, had traded us in for a shiny, new model. A twenty-year-old, no less. A coworker. I’d suspected something was off, the late nights, the secretive phone calls, but I’d pushed it aside, trusting him. Foolish me.
The day I caught them, at that cheap motel on the outskirts of town, was seared into my memory. The look on his face, a mixture of guilt and something disturbingly close to relief, still haunted my dreams. He didn’t even try to deny it, just mumbled some pathetic excuse about “finding himself.”
The divorce was a whirlwind of lawyers and paperwork, a cold, clinical process that stripped away the remnants of our life together. He’d agreed to everything, too quickly, too easily. I was left with a pittance, barely enough to cover a few months’ rent.
Then came the real insult. He’d put our marital home, the house where we’d raised our kids, the house filled with memories, up for sale. And he’d listed it for an absurdly inflated price, far exceeding the online valuation used during the financial order. The judge had signed off on it, seemingly oblivious to the glaring discrepancy.
I was left scrambling, barely able to make ends meet, while he was raking in a fortune. Seeing that listing online, the photos of our home, now staged and impersonal, was like a knife to the heart. It was a constant reminder of everything I’d lost.
But the final straw was when his new fiancée, the mistress, announced on social media that they were buying a “dream home” because they were expecting a baby. A baby! He was building a new life, a new family, while my kids were struggling, while I was drowning in debt. The injustice of it all was suffocating.
I was consumed by rage, a burning desire for revenge. I wanted him to feel the same pain, the same despair, that he’d inflicted on me. I wanted him to understand the consequences of his actions.
It wasn’t until I visited my former mother-in-law, a woman who had always been kind to me, that a plan began to form. She was as devastated by Mark’s actions as I was. We sat in her cozy kitchen, sipping tea, and she told me stories of Mark’s childhood, of his father’s own infidelity, a pattern repeating itself.
Then, she mentioned a small, overlooked detail. A safety deposit box, inherited from Mark’s father, containing… well, she wasn’t entirely sure. She’d always assumed it was just old documents.
The next day, I went to the bank. I’d remembered Mark mentioning the box once, years ago, but he’d dismissed it as unimportant. I presented myself as his legal representative, using a power of attorney document I’d obtained during the divorce proceedings, a document Mark had signed without reading thoroughly.
Inside the box, nestled amongst faded photographs and yellowed letters, was a stock certificate. A substantial amount of shares in a company that had recently skyrocketed in value. Mark, in his haste to leave, had completely forgotten about it.
I sold the shares.
The money, a significant sum, allowed me to pay off my debts, secure a comfortable apartment for myself and the kids, and even put a down payment on a small business.
I didn’t tell Mark. I didn’t gloat. I simply moved on, building a new life for myself and my children. The satisfaction wasn’t in the money, but in the knowledge that I had taken back control, that I had turned his betrayal into my liberation. And maybe, just maybe, he’d learn that some things, like family, are worth more than any fleeting infatuation.
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