Judd: When we did Undeclared, the note from Fox was: You need more eye candy.
Amy: Do you think that’s true? Do people really need more eye candy?
Judd: I have thought about that a lot. I don’t know. But what if people do want it?
Amy: I’m not above that. I want to look at Jennifer Lawrence eating cereal.
Judd: I mean, it depends. People are pretty happy looking at James Gandolfini, or Bryan Cranston. They’re happy looking at Nurse Jackie and everyone on Parks and Rec. So I don’t know. There’s escapist television and soap opera–type television, but for the most part, you just want a hilarious person or an interesting person. Are you someone who believes that life is easier if you’re attractive?
Amy: I think that beautiful people are not any happier than people who are not as beautiful. Even with models—there’s always someone who is more beautiful or younger. So no matter what realm you’re operating in, it’s all relative. I didn’t develop my personality, or my sense of humor, because I felt unattractive. I thought I was attractive until I got older. It was probably a defense mechanism for whatever pain was going on around me. But I don’t think that people who feel beautiful feel like, I don’t need to do this other thing.
Judd: You’re in a weird area. I would describe it as: Everyone thinks you are beautiful, but maybe you don’t agree with their opinion.
Amy: Um.
Judd: I’ll talk about me for a second. I always thought I was right in the middle, looks-wise, and that if I had a good personality, it could put me over the top. But it wasn’t like, behind my back, everyone thought I was handsome. I get the sense that you feel like some days you’re looking great, some days you’re not, but the audience sees you in a certain way that maybe you don’t agree with. Does that make sense?
Amy: I think that’s probably true. I think that’s probably dead-on. I feel, like you just said, that some days I am like a real monster, completely unlovable and unfuckable, and then there’s a moment, every now and then, when I’m more like Elaine on Seinfeld: “Is it possible that I’m not as attractive as I had thought?” Or maybe it’s the opposite of that. Anytime I start feeling better about myself, physically, someone will say something that pushes me right back down. I think every woman feels this way.
Judd: I ask about it because it is about who you think you’re speaking to.
Amy: That’s a really good point.
Judd: I was a year younger than everybody in school. I was the youngest kid in class, always. But I only realized, later in life, that I was much smaller than everybody.
Amy: Physically?
Judd: Yeah. And by the time I caught up a little bit, in sixth or seventh grade, I had been defined. On some level, I guess it made me feel less masculine. And as a result, I always feel like a nerd. I have a beautiful wife, I’m successful. But I still feel like the kid who’s picked last in gym class. And that shaped my idea of comedy being about outsiders. It was a way for me to attack all of these systems that I thought were unfair to me.
Amy: I would say the same for me.
Judd: What was your version of that? What happened to you as a kid that made you think and defined your sense of humor? Just the darkness of your house, primarily?
Amy: Yeah, and one thing that’s too dark and private to even talk about. But I would say, with the physical stuff, that I was always pretty but not beautiful. And that was something that you were punished for. I was very aware of this stuff early on.
Judd: With girls, it’s weird because it changes dramatically. In high school, girls don’t look anything like they looked in third grade. Whereas guys, the handsome third-grade dude is still handsome in high school. Girls blossom and change. That was the kind of girl I always tried to date: the girl who, near the end of high school, got pretty but still acted insecure.
Amy: Well, that’s the jackpot. That’s my favorite kind of guy, too. The guy that blossoms but still sees himself as the fat kid.
Judd: Al Roker.
Amy: Al Roker is the perfect example.
Judd: He lost the weight but he’s still nice to you.
Amy: Because he remembers. But I had no perspective on myself physically. All I knew was that I was pretty enough to get by. I remember in fifth grade, a guy who I was friends with said something to me about being pretty. I got my period in fifth grade. I had, like, boobs. I had an ass.
Judd: Well, that changes everything. That’s just pollution on Long Island.
Amy: Only recently have I got any sort of ownership over my body as a woman.
Judd: What does it feel like, going through puberty so early? Are you getting hormones, like a teenager?
Amy: I was totally boy crazy, running around trying to kiss them. My parents were getting calls. But I wasn’t very sexual or anything. I remember growing pains, and my boobs hurt and I was just getting a body that no one else had yet. I remember being sexualized by gardeners—gardeners are the construction workers of Long Island, you know. I’d walk past a gardening truck and I remember feeling like, Wow, I’m way too young to be getting this kind of sexual energy from these guys. I only wanted that attention when I wanted it. I guess that’s what every woman wants. No one wants unwanted sexual attention. But I felt confused by it, and it’s why I talk about it onstage so much. It’s the confusion of trying to figure out how attractive I am and laughing at myself—I can be easily convinced that I’m gorgeous. Someone will be like, “You really are a beautiful girl.” And I’ll be like, “I know.” But then, an hour later, you’re in an environment where you feel like a troll.
Judd: How does that relate to wanting to be funny?
Amy: That was so interesting, when you asked me before about who I was talking to when I’m onstage. I just thought of that two nights ago. I was in Rochester and I was onstage and this is probably bad to admit, but I was like, I really am speaking to the women in the audience. I’m appreciative of the guys that can come along for the ride and not feel alienated because this isn’t some “pro-women, down with men” thing, but the reality is, I’m speaking to the women and trying to keep the guys interested enough that they still want to come to the shows.
Judd: And what are you saying to them?
Amy: “You’re doing the best you can and you’re good enough.” And that came from just sitting around with my girlfriends in high school and not having to pretend. You could just be like, “Well, I haven’t washed my hair in almost a full week, and do you want to hear what I ate last night?” You would feel so human—and, as a result, less apologetic.
Judd: Your act is like that now.
Amy: Well, I think it’s really comforting to people. It makes everyone feel better to acknowledge that no one has it together. I mean, I don’t know anyone that doesn’t have this big, dark cloud hovering over them. Just knowing that makes me feel better.
Judd: At what age did you become aware of comedians?
Amy: Really young, when we would watch the Muppets. And then I discovered stand-ups. I loved Gilda. I was so drawn to funny chicks. I remember watching Rita Rudner and George Carlin and Richard Pryor. My dad must’ve had it on. And Letterman.
Judd: How old were you?
Amy: Ten or younger. Stand-up trickled in over the years but it wasn’t until I was in college, early college, where I discovered Margaret Cho, and got really into it.