I’m fairly certain that Rush Limbaugh could take Goodnight, Moon and twist it into a tale of shrill harpies hellbent on John Bobbitt-ing the male species and strangling newborn babies with their long, flowing strands of armpit hair.
That is the only explanation for his wildly inaccurate (and, it should go without saying, wildly sexist) April 16 interpretation of a study published this month in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology. According to Rush, the study concluded “the real reason women pursue careers is because they fear they are too unattractive to get married.” (He also wondered, “Is this the real reason liberal women insist on working?”)
According to the actual study … not so much.
Keep reading »
I am a writer. I have been a writer since age eight, when I penned a dramatic tale about a girl who gets asked to the prom by the school bully. He turns out to be really nice, and they end up getting married. It was daring, featured some witty dialogue, and suggested an attraction to bad boys that never played out in real life. It also suggested something else—my classic, boring, old-fashioned interest in getting married and living happily ever after, in that order. Keep reading »
What do you do when one of the things you used to like about yourself the most, looking back, becomes one of the things that you like about yourself the least?
From as young as I can remember, a rocket ship of ambition propelled me forward in all that I did. I didn’t — and still don’t — have a wide variety of interests, because writing was where I excelled. I threw everything into it. My parents, of course, fanned the flames of this. They loved having a daughter who made them proud.
And I loved getting some attention. My older brother Eliot*, his bipolar disorder and his drug and alcohol addictions, consumed most of my parents’ energy and nearly all of their attention. I wrote a poem when I was 13 or 14 that I can remember to this day because it still applies to my life sometimes. It was called “Measuring Cups” and it was about parents struggling to measure out love and attention equally amongst their children, but failing. When I was that young, the best way I could find attention, short of developing a heroin addiction myself, was to impress my parents with awards and articles and prizes and accolades. There was no confusion about this lifestyle, no hard choices to make. All I had to do was whatever made me look the best. Keep reading »
I would not be blogging about the various and amusing differences between dudes and chicks for fun and profit if it were not for a boss who dressed like she was ready to hit a late-’90s girl power soft rock music festival at a moment’s notice.
When I moved to New York 15 years ago, I was lucky to find any work. I had no connections, no money, and no marketable skills. I had a degree in playwriting which qualified me to brood. I was too sweaty to wait tables, too goofy to work in sales, and when the temp agency put me in front of a computer, I looked like a monkey with a Rubik’s cube. I tied my only tie with all of the grace of a hangman. That tie was baboon ass red. Keep reading »
Earlier this week, Forbes.com’s blogger Susannah Breslin — who used to be one of The Frisky’s own! — wrote a piece called “How to Get a Job If You’re a Twentysomething Woman,” after a reader named Frances asked her for advice on the topic. Susannah’s first bit of advice — and the one that has garnered a whole boatload of varied reactions — was “be attractive.” Keep reading »