Profile for Jennifer Giglio

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Girl Talk: After 30 Years On The Run, I Finally Learned How To Stay Still

I was 5 years old the first time I threw on a pair of heels, packed a suitcase and informed my mother that I was moving out. At age 10, I boarded a plane to swim camp and never looked back. My father, worried, followed me on board to make sure I was fine—I was horrified by his intrusion. By the time I reached 12, I’d begun fantasizing about boarding school and begged my parents to send me away soon after. At age 15, I volunteered in Venezuela for the entire summer—I left a few days after the school year ended and returned home a mere week before classes began again.

The summer of 1998 is rarely mentioned. That was the summer my parents parted ways and I flew between Tennessee and California roughly a dozen times in three months. Keep reading »

Girl Talk: My Triple-D Disaster

The world laughed when Heidi Montag said that she felt like she was trapped in her own body because of her enormo breast implants. But I totally understand what she’s talking about.

At 25, I had lost a large amount of weight and my body fat percentage was drastically reduced in a short period of time. This worked wonders for my ass, but wreaked havoc on my chest. I remarked to my girlfriends one night after a few too many drinks that I had tiger nipples. This description, complete with claws and roaring noises, was a reference to the stretch marks that cut deep swaths in my once firm skin. I was in an unhealthy relationship at the time and at the urging of my partner, I decided to do something about my prematurely sagging breasts. Keep reading »

Girl Talk: My “I Do” Nightmare

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” I squealed, wondering inwardly why those were the only words I could muster.

I placed my hands on Alex’s trembling shoulders and pulled him to his feet. “Of course,” I whispered, accepting his proposal. As we clung to one another, spectators faded away and elation swelled. Keep reading »

Girl Talk: Losing My Job Was Good For Me

“We’ve restructured your job and structured you out of it,” Louis said quickly, as though this thought were all one word.

Immediately, I felt the floor drop and ceiling soar, while I, not tethered to either, floated between. I was surprised, though I’d foreseen this bad news; I‘d brought an empty brown duffel bag to work that Friday rather than my usual Louis Vuitton purse. I had been telling my mother and coworkers for weeks, as I snooped while sorting Louis’ emails, that I was going to be let go. Keep reading »

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