Recently I was complaining to my cousin Lei about my mother.
“I tell her I’m happy,” I said as we waited for our table to be called, “but she doesn’t believe me.” I had money in the bank, a dream career, and was in a sickeningly loving relationship with a guy she adored like a son. Yet every time we spoke, she asked with fear in her voice: “Is everything okay? Are you okay? Is Alex’s job okay? Are you guys okay?”
“She’s your mother,” Lei said. “She’ll always worry.” My cousin watched her 3-year old zoom past us, her husband close on her tail. “Before I became a mother, I didn’t understand that worry. Now I do.”
I sighed. There it was again, that exclusive club. Motherhood. Keep reading »
When I began dating my now husband, I already had a little girl from a previous relationship. In order to get serious with me, he had to adjust to the idea of late-night dinners at restaurants to takeout scheduled around bedtime. Luckily, he did so beautifully and won both my and my daughter’s hearts.
One wedding, two successful careers, and a substantial mortgage later, my husband adopted my daughter and we were ready to add another tax deduction to the mix. We were used to having to make adjustments to accommodate life’s surprises, so we thought a baby would cause minimal monetary ripples in our fairly stable life. We couldn’t have been more wrong. Keep reading »
Recently, during a weekly therapy session, my doc and I were doing our thing, talkin’ ’bout boys, my frustration with the ones I have met, and my recent relapse into dreaming about my ex; I was telling her that sometimes, despite being a relatively solitary person who enjoys time alone, I get overwhelmed with loneliness. I miss something I don’t have anymore, that feeling of deep companionship.
It’s something we’ve talked about often in the last year and a half since my biggie breakup; during that time, as my loneliness and grief waxed and waned, my career has thrived. The Frisky has become more successful than I dared to have dreamed when we first started it and I’m noodling with the idea of writing a book; both work and personal projects keep me busy and sometimes I feel like I need to pinch myself to confirm that my professional aspirations have been met with truly thrilling results. Keep reading »
When a study released in late June revealed that one in five women would remain childfree into the next generation, a lot of people were shocked. I wasn’t. In an ironic twist of fate, I had my tubes tied the same weekend. Keep reading »
Of all the personal essays I’ve written, “Why Marrying For Money Isn’t A Totally Bad Idea” has provoked the biggest response. It has actually run twice on the Frisky site: once about a year ago and again in June for our Cash & Coupling feature. Due to all that exposure, it has racked up comments numbering in the hundreds and been written about (90 percent negatively) on dozens of blogs. Someone even sent me an email calling me a “yeast infection”!
Some of the things written about the post, and about me, are so untrue that I’m not sure the author actually read the essay all the way through. But it’s clear to me — both from the tone of the comments and from seeing the piece run with “fresh eyes” for a second time — that I did not explain myself and my beliefs very well. I think that instead of being speculative, I should have gotten more personal.
So. Here we go, again … Keep reading »
This is one of those stories that you hope is just something from an episode of “30 Rock,” but then you’re, like, Ugh, these people really exist:
Sarah Burge, 50, owns a swingers’ sex party club and is known as the “Human Barbie” for her $600,000-worth of plastic surgery treatments. She’s also the mother of three daughters. Her eldest, Charlotte, 23, dances burlesque; her middle daughter, Hannah, 16, started getting Botox injections last year; and her 7-year-old, Poppy, wears lip gloss, high heels and makeup, and loves pole dancing.
Yep, she’s 7. Keep reading »
They’re baaaaack! Remember the little girls who did that super amazing but sorta sexy dance to Beyonce’s “Single Ladies,”
and people went nuts over whether it was appropriate or not? Well, their parents hit the morning shows last week saying the dance performance (posted on YouTube) was “taken out of context.” However, it turns out that that was not the first time that gang of 7-year-olds donned sparkly tube tops and popped their booties on stage. Behold, the sexiest take on “My Boyfriend’s Back” that I’ve ever heard/seen. Look, the sucky thing about this “scandal” is that it’s detracting from the fact that these girls are amazzzzing
dancers, so skilled at such a young age that if they were to continue their studies, they could seriously go on to professional careers. And some might argue, myself included, that the over-the-top sexiness of some of the moves (and the costumes) are not only inappropriate for their age but distracting from their talent as well. What do you think? [PopEater
] Keep reading »
In case you were thinking about having kids anytime soon, this new blog S**t My Kids Ruined will make you think twice. This alternative form of birth control features the worst that can happen when little hellians go on a rampage. The path of destruction left by an angry or curious child is not always so cute. It kind of makes me want to apologize to my mom and dad. You were probably right about not going to sleep with gum in my mouth. It really does always end up in your hair. First up, this lovely little Suzy Homemaker was just doing a little light baking. Secret ingredient? Baby powder. Delish! After the jump, a few more of my favorite kiddie crime scenes. [BuzzFeed] Keep reading »
I’m now six days away from the official due date of my unplanned (but now certainly wanted) first baby, and I think I have learned what it might be like to be disabled in America. It’s not very pleasant. I am certainly a spectacle, but unlike other disabled people, the woman with a giant rotund belly warrants comments from nearly everyone she passes, whether it’s kind strangers who say “Congratulations!” on the street or the bitch who works at Target who warned me not to have my baby on the floor. And if I have to hear “OMG you’re SO pregnant,” one more time (from friends, family and strangers), I really might lose it. I’m hormonal, chunky and need a drink, so stating the obvious is getting plain annoying. Keep reading »