I like to think that I’m reasonably independent. I’m a modern woman, following in the charming footsteps of Mary Tyler Moore (I even have a little beret, but I don’t throw it up in the air, because I’m afraid I’d lose it). I like my work tremendously. As a result, I’m inclined to regard myself as fairly different from Melissa Beech, who recently wrote on The Daily Beast about her sugar daddy who “pays for a killer wardrobe,” as well as her apartment, and about $5,000 worth of expenses per month. As readers decried her for being “a prostitute,” “selfish,” and “classless,” I congratulated myself on working for a living and not having to rely on an older man to cover all my expenses. Keep reading »
Usually, a daughter’s interaction with her father is her first male/female relationship. It’s how she learns to see herself as a young woman; it’s how she determines if she’s accepted, valued, and respected. Whether you have a positive relationship with your father or the two of you are barely on speaking terms, he has the power to ruin your relationships with men. If a woman had an emotionally and physically absent father when she was growing up, she may be more likely to have difficulty making productive and lasting relationships with men as an adult. But even if your father was your biggest champion and showed you his love and nurtured you, he can still ruin your future with men — if you let him. Keep reading »
My friend Gloria flirts with everyone — even her cat. Seriously. Almost every time I see her she’s cozying up to someone new, even though she isn’t a perpetual dater and doesn’t sleep around. At my birthday dinner a few weeks ago, she asked my friend Sira if he wanted to lick some buttercream frosting off her chest. He busted out his cell phone and said, “Have you seen my boyfriend?” But it didn’t matter to her that he’s gay; she was flirting for the sake of flirting. Keep reading »
2006 was a year of unprotected sex for me. No, not every time, but I started off the year with a fling with a slightly older man I was besotted with, who didn’t speak a word about condoms, and, in response, I didn’t either. I wanted to trust that he had some magical knowledge that somehow I was missing, that maybe the world had overturned itself and they were no longer necessary. I was wrong, and after a pregnancy panic as I searched for Plan B — this was right before it was so readily available — I escaped unscathed. Then later that year I met a guy I fell absolutely head over heels with, sure that we were destined to be together. Keep reading »
Right now, I’m in the most serious relationship I’ve ever been in; as in, even though I live in New York and he lives in San Francisco, we’ve talked about where and when we could live together — and how soon. He’s met my uncle; I’ve gone to his family’s cabin, and I’m joining them for Thanksgiving. His mom sends me emails, and my grandmother sends me clippings urging him to stop smoking. We talk almost every night and end most calls with “I love you.” Keep reading »
Earlier today, we told you two “Dancing with the Stars” cast members were diagnosed with endometriosis within days of one another. In fact, it’s a health problem that’s a lot more common than you’d think. My story, after the jump … Keep reading »
I’m not proud to admit I’ve already clocked more hours on my wedding-gown search than I did choosing a college.
From afar, it seemed like a fun task to find a gorgeous vintage dress to get married in. On the other hand, it only has to be the most knock-’em-dead dress of a lifetime, to be photographed more than any other outfit I will ever wear.
The upside of going vintage is that nearly every gown is one of a kind. This is also the downside. When you find a real beaut, there’s always at least one thing wrong: color, condition, price, it’s already sold (second most common problem), or the most common and aggravating issue of all, size. Keep reading »
I’ve been growing my hair out for 10 years, ever since I got a totally tragic close-crop days before graduation from high school. I had kind of low self-esteem and I was majorly obsessed with Gwyneth Paltrow’s new short cut (you know the one — it closely resembled then boyfriend Brad Pitt’s hair too) — I came to the conclusion that if I cut off all my hair just like hers, I, too, would be pretty. Fat chance. The haircut, for starters, was poorly executed. Additionally, my hair was still in that post-puberty stage of frizzy horribleness — and I did not yet understand that flat irons and blow dryers could be my friend. The haircut was a disaster and I have spent the last 10 years growing it out, associating prettiness and femininity with length.
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A couple of years ago, when I was a freelance writer, I got Botox. I was working on a story for a women’s magazine in the U.K. about “ageorexia” — women in their 20′s and early 30′s who were getting anti-aging treatments and surgeries as a preventative measure rather than as maintenance. While I interviewed a number of women about the subject, I also thought it was a good opportunity to do a little Gonzo-style journalism and get a cosmetic procedure myself. Keep reading »
Hold onto your mouse pads, I have a revelation for you (drum roll please): online friends are not the same as their “real world” equivalents.
I know, duh. You rarely, if ever, actually see the people you meet online. They don’t go with you to the grocery store or to check out the cute guy at Starbucks and are unlikely to ever ask to borrow your Marc Jacobs handbag (meaning you never have to humiliate them by saying no). If you’re going through a bad time, they might be there with some emailed sympathy and advice but call them in tears at 4 AM and you’re crossing over into stalker territory.
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