There’s something magical about Cyndi Lauper, the lively artist behind the 1983 hit “Girls Just Want to Have Fun,” a song that quickly became a global anthem, encouraging women everywhere to embrace fun and freedom.
Lauper is the definition of cool. Her quirky, carefree personality, playful fashion, and colorful hair inspire people with her message to always be yourself.
However, behind the playful voice that spreads joy to her listeners, Lauper battles a severe skin condition called psoriasis. At one point, it was so intense that, as she described, “It looked like someone threw boiling water on me.”
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The legendary pop star, now 69, recently opened up about her ongoing battle with psoriasis—a chronic skin condition that has no cure—since she was first diagnosed in 2010.
Psoriasis can cause severe pain, itching, discomfort, and rough, scaly patches on the skin. About 8 million people in the U.S. and 125 million globally live with this condition.
Lauper’s symptoms started as scalp irritation and general discomfort, which worsened over time.
Initially, she thought her itchy scalp was from frequently coloring her hair, but the symptoms continued, causing both physical pain and emotional strain for the award-winning musician.
The “Time after Time” singer is a busy mother, touring pop star, and activist.
Inspired by her sister Ellen, who is a lesbian, Lauper has become a strong supporter of LGBT rights, working tirelessly to advocate for the community.
Her 2005 song “Above the Clouds” was written in honor of Matthew Shepard, a 21-year-old gay student who was beaten to death in Wyoming. Lauper also started the “True Colors” concert tour in 2007-2008, which raises support for local and private LGBT charities and organizations.
Besides her advocacy, Lauper has an impressive career as a singer, songwriter, and actor. Over the past forty years, she has received many awards, including a Tony Award, two Grammy Awards, an MTV Music Video Award, and an Emmy Award for her role in a 1995 episode of the TV show *Mad About You*.
She also has a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, is a member of the Songwriters Hall of Fame, and in 2013, her humanitarian work earned her a special invitation to attend President Barack Obama’s second inauguration.
Despite her diagnosis, Lauper continues to stay strong. She is committed to not letting psoriasis hold her back and works on managing stress to avoid triggering flare-ups.
When she was first diagnosed and dealing with severe psoriasis, Lauper wrote the music and lyrics for the Broadway musical *Kinky Boots*, which won her a Tony Award for Best Original Score. She became the first woman to win a Tony in that category on her own. The show also won five more Tony Awards, including Best New Musical.
In a conversation with the American Academy of Dermatology (AAD), Lauper openly shared her experience living with the autoimmune skin condition, hoping her story might help others.
“I’ve never been able to really manage stress,” she admitted, explaining that she now takes a holistic approach to healing and stress relief both at home and on the road. She learned reiki, a Japanese technique for relaxation, saying, “That helps me.”
Along with reiki, Lauper works to stay grounded by meditating, practicing yoga, or taking walks in the fresh air with her dog and her husband, David Thornton, whom she married in 1991. The couple has one son, born in 1997.
“It’s not a bad thing to take care of yourself,” Lauper said, urging people to always “make a little time for you.”
She encourages starting small. “How about five minutes for you?” she added.
Lauper speaks with resilience about her experience, explaining that “when psoriasis gets really bad, it’s really hard to get up again.” She shared that at times, she couldn’t regulate her body temperature, leading to chills that could result in hypothermia. Even when resting, her condition only worsened, and hearing people dismiss it as “just a rash” added to her struggles.
“You don’t have to suffer,” Lauper said. Treatments, such as topical and oral medication or injections, can help ease the often unbearable symptoms of psoriasis. For Lauper, she found relief with Novartis’ Cosentyx, and as a spokesperson for the medication, she happily shares that she’s been “four years clear.”
In 2017, Lauper spoke with HealthDay about managing her psoriasis.
“It’s funny—you start wearing gloves, or this and that, hoping [psoriasis] is invisible, but it’s not. I didn’t show it off, like, ‘Woo-hoo, check this out!’ Doesn’t everyone try to hide it? You’d be surprised how many people have it and don’t talk about it. It’s one of those invisible things, so it’s good to talk about it.”
She shares more about it on her podcast *PsO in the Know*, where she talks with celebrities, advocates, and everyday people who offer insights on living with psoriasis.
The show is now in its third season and is available on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Google Podcasts, Pandora, and Stitcher.
Lauper isn’t the only celebrity with psoriasis. Kim Kardashian, now 42, was diagnosed at 30 and is open about her challenges. Her mom, Kris Jenner, 67, had her first outbreak in her late 20s and said it was “life-changing.” Other celebrities with psoriasis include musician Art Garfunkel, 81, actor Jon Lovitz, 65, and Jerry Mathers, 74, known as “The Beaver.”
My stepdaughter insisted that I transfer all of her late father’s assets to her – I did as she asked, but it didn’t turn out the way she expected
George’s absence haunts their home, his memory wrapped in his shirt that Mariana clutches each night. Yet, it wasn’t his death that shattered her… it was her stepdaughter Susan’s demand for his assets. When she finally gave in, a twist emerged, leaving Susan furious and Mariana oddly at peace.
Moving on after losing a loved one is never easy. Sometimes, I still hear my hubby George’s voice in the back of my head. I wake up clutching his favorite shirt, his scent lingering on the fabric. But while I was still grieving his loss, what my stepdaughter did… it completely shattered me…
I’m Mariana, 57 years old, and I was married to the most wonderful man, George, for 25 years. He had a daughter, Susan, 34, from a previous marriage.
Our relationship with Susan used to be fine. She called me “Mom” and filled the void in my heart of not having a child of my own. I didn’t see her as “someone else’s” child. I loved her as my own daughter, you know.
When Susan got married to the man of her choice, George and I were overjoyed. But after that, everything went downhill when George was diagnosed with terminal cancer.
Susan’s visits dwindled from weekly to monthly, then stopped altogether. She barely came to see her father, occasionally calling me to ask about his condition.
One day, she asked me something that tore me apart. “How many more days does he have left to live?”
I gripped the phone tightly, my voice trembling. “Susan, your father isn’t some product with an expiry date.”
“I just want to know, Mom. I’m busy, you know that… I can’t be visiting often,” she replied.
“Busy?” I echoed, disbelief coloring my tone. “Too busy to see your dying father?”
She sighed heavily. “Look, I’ll try to visit soon, okay?”
But that “soon” never came.
Then, the day I dreaded finally arrived. The hospital called, informing me that George had passed peacefully.
I was shattered, barely able to stand as the news sunk in. My George, my beloved George, was gone.
To my shock and disappointment, Susan didn’t even attend his funeral. When I called her, she had an excuse ready.
“You know that I just delivered my baby last month, Mom,” she said, her voice oddly detached. “The doctors advised against long travel due to some health issues.”
I swallowed hard, fighting back tears. “But Susan, it’s your father’s funeral. Don’t you want to see him one last time?”
“I can’t risk my baby’s health,” she replied curtly. “You understand, right?”
I didn’t, not really, but I nodded silently, forgetting she couldn’t see me. “Of course, sweetie. Take care.”
As I hung up and sat near my husband’s coffin, I couldn’t shake off the feeling that something had fundamentally changed between us.
Six months after George’s passing, I was startled by a loud knock on my door. Opening it, I found Susan and her husband Doug, accompanied by a stern-looking man in a suit.
Susan barged in without a greeting. “Mom, we need you to sign some papers.”
I blinked, confused. “What papers?”
Doug thrust a stack of documents at me, including a blank sheet. “Just sign these. It’s for transferring all the assets into our names.”
“Excuse me?” I stepped back, my heart racing. “What are you talking about?”
Susan rolled her eyes. “Dad’s assets, Mom. We’re here to claim what’s rightfully ours.”
Their audacity left me speechless. If only George had left a will, I wouldn’t be in this mess. I would have ensured my daughter was taken care of before she even knew there was a problem.
But this? Their tone and audacity irked me. How could they think I’d just stand by and let them walk all over me?
“No,” I said firmly, finding my voice. “I want you to leave my house right now. And don’t you dare come back with such awful demands.”
Susan’s face contorted with anger. “You can’t do this! You’re not even my REAL MOTHER!”
Her words hit me like a bag of bricks. I stumbled back, tears welling in my eyes. “Susan, how can you say that? After all these years?”
“Just stick to your boundaries and pass on my father’s assets to me,” she spat.
I felt my blood pressure rising, my vision blurring with tears and rage. “Get out of my house!” I shouted. “Your father would be heartbroken if he knew what a greedy daughter you’ve become. I’m glad my George didn’t live to see this day.”
Susan launched into a tirade, her words becoming a blur of insults and demands.
“How dare you, Mariana? George was my father, not yours, and you have no right to anything here!” she yelled. “You think you can wiggle your way in here and take what’s ours? Over my dead body!”
That did it. Tears sprang from my eyes. Susan… the daughter my George and I had raised practically stabbed me with her words alone.
But no, I wouldn’t let them break me. Not me. Not Mariana.
“This is my home, and you’re not welcome! Take your greed and get out before I call the cops!” I retorted.
“Do you have any idea what you’re putting us through? You’re nothing but a greedy vulture, circling around for scraps my father left behind!” Susan barked.
“If you had an ounce of decency, you’d leave right now! But clearly, that’s asking too much!” I snapped.
“You think a few harsh words will scare us? Just sign the damn papers, lady!” Doug yelled at me.
I felt cornered by the daughter I’d loved and raised. I was furious and heartbroken.
When they refused to leave, my neighbor, hearing the commotion, rushed over. “You heard her! This isn’t your place, and you’re not welcome. Move it!” he physically escorted Susan and Doug out.
As they left, Susan’s furious voice echoed back. “This isn’t over, Mariana! You’ll regret this!”
I slumped onto the couch, my heart aching. Where had all that love we once shared vanished? How could greed twist my daughter into someone I barely recognized?
With trembling hands, I reached for George’s framed photo on the side table. Tears blurred my vision as I traced his smiling face.
“Oh, George,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Why didn’t you take me with you? I’m lost without you.”
A sob escaped my throat as I clutched the frame to my chest. “Our daughter… our sweet Susan… she’s a stranger to me now. What happened to the little girl who used to call me Mom?”
The silence of the empty house pressed in around me, amplifying my grief. I rocked back and forth, the photo cool against my tear-stained cheeks.
“I miss you so much, honey,” I choked out. “I don’t know how to face this alone.”
Susan’s calls didn’t stop after that. Day and night, my phone buzzed with her angry messages and voicemails. Finally, exhausted and desperate for peace, I decided to give in.
I met with my lawyer, determined to give Susan what she wanted and be done with it. But there was something neither of us knew.
A week later, Susan stormed into my home again, her face red with fury.
“HOW DID YOU DO THIS?” she screamed. “I only get $3,000 and an old car? What about everything else?”
I stared at her, a small smile forming on my face. “What are you talking about?”
Susan waved a paper in my face. “This! This pathetic inheritance you told the lawyer to give me! Where’s everything else?”
I took the paper from her, a small smile dancing on my lips. According to this, George only had $3,000 in his bank account, an old Mustang, and some debts.
“What about the house? The SUV? Dad’s old farmhouse?” Susan snapped.
You see, my lawyer, whom I’d called the other day, arrived and explained the situation. And this is what he said:
“Mrs. Anderson, everything the family owned is in your name. The house, the SUV, the farmhouse, everything. Mr. Anderson transferred it all to you years ago, keeping just three grand in his bank account and his old Mustang. It’s up to you now to decide the fate of these assets.”
Until the lawyer dropped the bomb, I’d assumed George had left me nothing. But no! He had made sure I’d be taken care of after he was gone. Bless his soul.
Susan’s face twisted with rage when I spilled the tea. “You’re lying! This can’t be true!” she hissed.
I looked at her, a strange calm settling over me. “Well, Susan, you wanted your father’s assets. Now you have them.”
“This isn’t fair!” she shrieked. “You tricked me!”
I looked up, a gentle smile plastered on my face. “No, Susan. I gave you exactly what you asked for… what rightfully belonged to your father. And now, I’m keeping what rightfully belongs to me.”
In the days that followed, I made a decision. I sold everything — the house, the SUV, the farmhouse, all of it. I made a decent eight figures, and bought a beautiful villa in a place I’d always dreamed of living, far from everyone.
As I settled into my new home, I received a call from an old friend back in town.
“Mariana,” she said, her voice hushed. “I thought you should know. Susan’s trying to start litigation against you.”
I sighed, unsurprised. “Let me guess, it fell through?”
“Yep. Everything was in your name, after all!”
I thanked her for the information and hung up, feeling a pang of sadness and relief.
Weeks passed, and I started to enjoy my new life. I traveled around the world, tried new hobbies, made new friends. But the peace didn’t last.
One day, my phone rang with an unfamiliar number. When I answered, I heard a man’s voice. “Mrs. Anderson? I’m calling on behalf of Susan. She wants to meet with you.”
I felt a chill run down my spine. “No,” I said firmly. “I’m not interested.”
“But Mrs. Anderson, she insists—”
I cut him off. “Tell Susan she got what she wanted. I have nothing more to say to her.”
As I ended the call, I couldn’t help but wonder why Susan was so desperate to meet now. What more could she possibly want? The fragments of my remaining peace?
I shook my head, pushing the thought away. It didn’t matter. I had a new life now, and I intended to live it to the fullest. After all, isn’t that what George would have wanted?
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