Jennifer Lopez admits not everyone in her camp initially supported the idea to document her romance with husband Ben Affleck in her upcoming “This Is Me… Now” album and companion film.
“As artists, we have to follow our heart and this is me following my heart and doing something that maybe everybody didn’t think was the best idea, but I had to do it,” Lopez tells me.
Lopez is set to drop “This Is Me… Now,” a new album that marks the 20th anniversary of “This Is Me…Then,” on Feb. 16. The Dave Meyers-directed companion short film will be released at the same time by Amazon MGM Studios.
Sure, Lopez has some worries about putting her and Affleck’s life in the spotlight because “we both have PTSD” caused by the media scrutiny they endured back when they first dated, she said, “but we’re older now. We’re wiser. We also know what’s important, what’s really important in life, and it’s not so much what other people think. It’s about being true to who you are.”
Asked if the film is a scripted feature or doc, Lopez explained, “You have to see it and you’ll have to experience it to understand it. That’s why I call it a ‘musical experience.’ Because there’s music, you can see it, you can hear it and then you’ll get to live it.”
A recent teaser for the film included a clip of Lopez saying, “When I was a little girl, when someone asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, my answer was always… in love.”
It was almost a year ago when Lopez told me, at the premiere of her rom-com “Shotgun Wedding,” that she would love to act with Affleck again. They infamously co-starred in 2003’s “Gigli,” which bombed both with critics and at the box office. “We talk,” Lopez said at the time. “We love being together and working together so, yeah, you never know.”
Lopez and Affleck initially dated in the early 2000s. Bennifer, as they were often called, came to an end not long after they called off their wedding in 2003. The relationship was rekindled in 2021 before marrying in Las Vegas in 2022.
Lopez and Affleck’s most recent red carpet appearance took place on Dec. 5 in Hollywood when she was honored at Elle’s Women in Hollywood celebration.
My granddaughter was constantly mocked by her classmates because of her braces.
The sun streamed through the kitchen window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. I sat at the table, sipping my tea, when the doorbell chimed. A wave of excitement washed over me. It was Lizzie, my granddaughter, a whirlwind of energy and sunshine.
But today, her smile seemed a little forced, her eyes downcast. “Hi Grandma,” she mumbled, her voice barely a whisper.
My heart sank. I knew something was wrong. Lizzie, usually a chatterbox, was unusually quiet. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” I asked, pulling her onto my lap.
She shrugged, her shoulders drooping. “Nothing.”
“Come on, darling,” I coaxed. “You can tell me anything.”
After a long pause, she finally admitted, “The kids at school are teasing me again.”
My blood ran cold. “Teasing you about what?”
Lizzie looked down at her feet, her voice barely audible. “My braces… and now my glasses.”
My heart ached. I remembered the cruel taunts I had endured as a child, the feeling of being different, of not fitting in. I couldn’t bear to see my granddaughter go through the same thing.
“Lizzie,” I said, my voice firm, “those kids are just mean. They’re jealous. You are beautiful, inside and out, with or without braces or glasses.”
She looked at me doubtfully. “But everyone else is wearing contacts.”
A mischievous glint entered my eye. “Really? Well, then I guess I need to get some contacts too!”
Lizzie’s eyes widened. “But Grandma, you don’t need glasses!”
I chuckled. “Oh, but I do, darling. I’ve been needing glasses for a while now, but I’ve been too stubborn to admit it.”
And with that, I went to my room and emerged a few minutes later, sporting a pair of stylish, oversized glasses. Lizzie stared at me, her mouth agape.
“Grandma!” she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling. “We look like twins!”
She threw her arms around me, hugging me tightly. “Thank you, Grandma,” she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. “You’re the best grandma ever. I love you!”
My heart melted. I had never expected this reaction. I had simply wanted to comfort her, to show her that she wasn’t alone. But seeing her smile, her eyes shining with admiration, filled me with a joy I hadn’t felt in years.
From that day on, Lizzie embraced her glasses. She even started experimenting with different frames, choosing colors and styles that expressed her individuality. The teasing continued, of course, but it no longer had the power to dim her light.
And I, her unlikely accomplice, watched with pride as she blossomed into a confident, beautiful young woman, her glasses becoming a part of her unique identity. I had learned a valuable lesson that day: sometimes, the best way to combat negativity is with a little bit of humor and a whole lot of love.
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