That sound you hear? It’s a stampede to the nearest tanning salon before it’s too late! Tanning will be banned in California for anyone under the age of 18 beginning on January 1. Presently, anyone 14 or younger is banned from tanning, but 15-, 16- and 17-year-olds may toast themselves if they have parental permission. However, there is mounting concern that tanning beds’ UV rays damage growing skin, which puts youth at risk for skin cancer. A Democratic state representative pushed the tanning ban bill and Gov. Jerry Brown signed it into law on Sunday. While some folks — like the tanning bed industry — call the tanning ban an overreaching intrusion of the government into people’s personal lives, keep in mind that France and England ban tanning under age 18 and Brazil bans tanning for everyone.
Do you support California’s ban on tanning under the age of 18? [Orange County Register] Keep reading »
According to chiropractors, there’s a new ailment afflicting avid texters. Thousands are being treated for the condition known as “text neck” which is caused by the neck being flexed for too long while staring down at a smart phone — obviously an unnatural position for your neck muscles. The condition, which can result in headaches, shoulder, arm and wrist pain, most often afflicts tall, young women with slender necks. Nice, I’m “high risk.” To prevent from suffering from “text neck” doctors suggest I take regular breaks from texting (not possible) or hold the phone in front of my face while texting (looks lame). Or I could go back to talking on the phone. Not gonna happen. Guess my neck is screwed. [Daily Mail UK]
On Tuesday night, I went to a yoga class. Truth be told, I really enjoyed it. But on the way out of the studio, I couldn’t help but overhear another student in the class say to her friend, “I feel so connected to the universe after that.” As someone who recoils at new agey expressions, I instantly felt turned off. I mean, yes, it felt lovely to exercise, breathe, and stretch—even though people speak of it in these terms, it never feels that spiritual to me.
So imagine what I thought when I read a Daily Beast piece this morning about the “yogasm”—the phenomenon of women having orgasms during a yoga class.
Apparently, this is a thing.
Keep reading »
While, as a commenter recently noted, I am not a “TMI blogger,” I have occasionally blogged about some of my, er, weight issues over the last few months here at The Frisky. Back at the end of May, I wrote a post about how I was fatter than I’d ever been in my life. I asked for your help in getting started exercising, and you gave me some great tips. By early July, I was able to buy my first pair of skinny jeans. By the end of July, I figured I’d lost about 10 pounds. Now I think I’ve lost a total of about 20 pounds since I started. (I don’t have a scale, so I’m estimating.) After the jump, here’s what I learned. Keep reading »
“Beautiful sisters,” the barista complimented, handing us our matching black coffees.
“She’s my mother,” I corrected, smiling at her deep blue eyes, vanilla-colored hair and tiny frame. I loved when people thought I looked like her.
“Good genes,” he said.
He couldn’t see the long ragged scar hidden beneath her sundress, the splinters along my own hips, or the secret pain we shared with just each other. Keep reading »
Every kid in middle school played hooky. I was a total goody-two shoes, but still a hooky master—I told my mom I couldn’t go to school whenever I woke up sleepy, lazy or just hadn’t finished my homework. And then I turned 13 and got my period. As the Jewish tradition goes, my friend slapped me across the face in the bathroom, screamed “Mazel Tov!” and it all began. The cramps were unbearable. They felt like someone was punching me in the stomach. I couldn’t even think of using a tampon because I’d have to change it every 20 minutes—like Missy Elliott, my flow was out of control. But like the little boy who cried wolf, my mom didn’t believe that her star hooky player could have cramps that bad and sent me on my way to school. It wasn’t until a month later that my mom realized I wasn’t playing hooky—something had to be wrong when four extra strength Motrin and a heating pad didn’t help my cramps. My mom immediately made an appointment for me at her gynecologist. Keep reading »
The other day, I came across this post: “Does the meaning of ‘happiness’ change as we age?” It featured this quote: “The research finds that the meaning of happiness shifts as people age: Whereas younger people are more likely to associate happiness with excitement, older people are more likely to associate happiness with feeling peaceful—a change driven by increasing feelings of connectedness (to others and to the present moment) as one ages.” And it got me wondering how women of all ages define happiness. What does happiness mean to you? How do you define happiness? What makes you happy? Tell us in the comments and we’ll post a follow-up featuring our favorite Frisky readers’ answers on their idea of happiness. [Barking up the Wrong Tree] Keep reading »
Crazy idea #2,384 from the folks at the French version of Grazia magazine: the chocolate diet. Oui. The principle behind this regime isn’t so much about a diet (what, you couldn’t guess?) but is more about an eating method that doesn’t rely on restriction. Restriction often causes binge eating, which gets you nowhere in the weight loss game. So the plan is this: a few times a week you get to replace your breakfast with chocolate or cookies. The rule is that you have to savor your indulgences and eat them slowly, which should train your brain to listen to your body’s needs, not over-indulge them.
This diet of eating sweets in the morning sounds frighteningly like our normal eating routine back in college. And you know what happened then? Hello, “Freshman 15.” [Grazia] Keep reading »
I happen to be very trusting of strangers—I trust that they are trying to screw with me, every chance that they get. But apparently, this is a very male trait—testosterone-packed dudes are not only gifted with strength and aggression, but also cynicism. In a study conducted at Cape Town University, 24 women around the age of 20 were given either testosterone or dummy pills and asked to rate the trustworthiness of strangers’ faces on a scale of -100 to +100. Those who ingested the testosterone pill judged the photos an average of 5% less trustworthy. Testosterone is believed to better prepare a person for competition, the ability to fight for resources, and to “watch their back” for danger. Taking the hormone made the women less open to deception and more vigilant in general. The scientists suggest that, historically, it’s been beneficial for women to be cooperative for survival. But now that we live in this sick, sad world, it might benefit us to pick up some of these testosterone traits. Keep reading »
It can be something as little as the time I was standing in a hotel parking lot while on vacation one summer, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw a man walking toward me. He looked exactly like my father. The closer he got, the larger the lump in my throat became. Or, it can be something a little bigger, like the few dozen times I’ve walked past the building on the campus of Northern Illinois University where my father worked and pictured him galloping up the stairs with a huge smile on his face. Or, even the time when I found the blue-knit cap he wore during the course of his chemotherapy and radiation to treat an aggressive form of sinus cancer and up until the day he committed suicide two weeks after finishing treatment. Or, the smell of his clothes and how they’d remind me of his big bear hugs.
That’s Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder in a nutshell. It’s the body’s way of trying to process the massive stockpile of emotions left in the wake of a traumatic life event. Keep reading »