There’s a new photo trend: breastfeeding selfies. That’s right. Intimate breastfeeding moments are making their way to social media. Moms are using the selfie trend to document the intimate mother-child bonding moment (or just to challenge the off-limits status of breastfeeding in public). Read more on Lifetime Moms…
Sigh. Here we go again.
People are currently in an uproar over a photo of a mother breastfeeding her daughter taken while at her college graduation. 25-year-old Karlesha Thurman posted the photo to the Black Women Do Breastfeed Facebook page, which reposted it for her, and it quickly went viral. Many people were shocked and appalled at what they saw.
Here’s what I saw. I saw a woman who managed to make it through an undergrad program with a young baby and still managed to figure out a way to breastfeed. I saw a woman who is also a mom and a student doing her thing and being proud of it. I saw someone normalizing something that should already be seen as “normal” in our society, but sadly isn’t. Keep reading »
Two years ago today, you never would have caught me drinking alcohol or coffee, doing any kind of recreational drugs, or even taking ibuprofen or prescription drugs unless it was absolutely necessary. I wasn’t straightedge (labels are dumb). Mainly, I was suspicious of the allure of substances and the tendency I saw for people to use them as a crutch — alcohol to unwind, coffee to wake up, recreational drugs to … honestly, I still don’t know. Antibiotics as a cure-all, ditto ibuprofen.
The other part of it was that I entered a seven-year, monogamous, committed relationship with a conservative Christian who didn’t drink on moral grounds when I was 18. So if I didn’t see the point of drinking when I was in high school, and I was with someone who also didn’t drink, what reason could I have to start? Keep reading »
I haven’t jumped on the Tinder bandwagon because something about it seems even less serious than OKCupid, and that’s sad. Case in point: Joshua, a Tinder user, couldn’t be bothered to individually message something unique to each of his matches, or even copy/paste the same message to all of them — he mass messaged all 32 women he was interested in with the same overture: “Hey gorgeous :) what’s up?” Are you surprised to learn that the 32 “gorgeous” women on the receiving end of this message didn’t take Joshua, well, seriously? Above and after the jump, the ensuing frenzy of texts from the women to Joshua and to each other. Let this be a lesson, everyone — if you don’t have time to individually message people online, you probably don’t have time to properly date them. [Elite Daily] Keep reading »
Women are given mixed messages on a regular basis. We’re told that we’re shattering glass ceilings and are independent ladies, while at the same time we’re told we’re a mess barely keeping ourselves together. Just today I got a Facebook advert demanding my attention so I can discover the newest fad diet that doesn’t really work. I’m told I should love my body and loathe it on a regular basis. I’ve come to expect that kind of thing.
Recently The Washington Post cited a study by the Bureau of Justice purportedly telling women that we should stop taking so many lovers and instead marry our “baby daddy.” That choice of words speaks rather clearly about the fundamental racism and classism indicated within the article and the logic being displayed. We are not talking about wealthy white women here, are we? Keep reading »
Maryanne Firth, a reporter in Welland, Ontario, didn’t mind that it was her turn to work last weekend. She’d finally get to learn what was behind the mysterious pink heart posters that started popping up all over town in late April. Read more on Newser…
It went as perfectly perfect as a breakup could go, I suppose.
Only a few days after my last Dater X post, when I told you all about my hopes of moving things forward with Andrew, he came over to my place to hang out and, without warning, dropped a bomb on me. As usual, we made small talk for a while, chatting about our weekend plans and jobs, and worked our way into my bedroom. Mid-makeout session, I reached down to unzip his jeans, when his hand grabbed mine and pushed it to the side— a suspicious move for not having seen each other in a week. He sat upright, looked me in the eye and said, “Before we do this, there are some things on my mind that I think we should talk about.”
In that moment, I was sure he was going to tell me he wanted us to be exclusive, and ask me if I felt the same way. Keep reading »
Doctors — especially surgeons — are expected to maintain a sense of decorum and professionalism at all times. I’m a board-certified neurosurgeon at a major American academic center, and while medicine is an incredibly rewarding career, it puts you in contact with a lot of people doing dumb, terrible things to their bodies. So, on behalf of frustrated doctors everywhere, here are a few things I’d love to say to my patients’ faces if it wouldn’t land me in another sensitivity seminar. Read more on Cracked…
Childbirth is a miracle. It’s a miracle that I intend to experience (hypothetically, in the distant future, maybe) with an epidural and as many pain-numbing drugs as they’ll give me.
Some moms-to-be go the other extreme: giving birth outdoors, literally on the floor of the fuckin’ woods, sans a doctor. And because this is America, there’s a new Lifetime reality show about them called “Born In The Wild.” Keep reading »
I recently signed up for six sessions with a personal trainer, LaMarcus, and told him my goals: get more toned and lose a few pounds.
Then he weighed me. I clocked in at 125, and he asked me if that’s what I expected. “Yeah, but I’d prefer to be closer to 122,” I told him. WHAT? As the words came out of my mouth I realized how ridiculous that probably sounded. Why do I even need a trainer for that? I’m not overweight. I know this (if not by looking at myself, then by furiously Googling “healthy body weights”). But that doesn’t stop me from telling myself that I am. Sometimes. I’m a pretty confident person. But, on some days, I can’t help but hate my body.
My self-diagnoses? I’m a Body Image Waffler. Keep reading »