I might sound bold on The Frisky, writing opinionated pieces about marriage equality and abortion rights.
In real life, though? I’m more like the cat that runs underneath the bed when thunder claps. Confrontation, expressing anger and all-around rocking-the-boat aren’t really my thing. I repeatedly bite off more than I can chew, get overwhelmed, and hold inside my anger or hurt feelings rather than deal with it in more manageable, bite-sized pieces. I’m working on getting better at it. But it’s uncomfortable and at times scary.
I’m not the only woman who feels this way. In fact, so many of my friends and other ladies I am close to have expressed to me that they’re “non-confrontational.” A lot of this, I think, has to do with our feelings being minimized or dismissed by our parents and family growing up and later on, those patterns are repeated by our loved ones. But it also has to do with avoiding those uncomfortable and at times scary feelings because confronting them head-on just sucks.
Standing up for myself is something I want to do more, not just in 2012, but always. I’ve brainstormed with my Frisky colleagues some ways we’re going to stand up for ourselves in 2012: Keep reading »
Let’s be honest, the way your hair looks can make or break your day. Ladies who wear short styles aren’t entirely exempt from the universal bad hair day, but the odds are more for than against them. Once your hair hits shoulder length, it tends to have a mind of its own. Longer hair is also more prone to damage and breaks, which is never a good look. Crispy frayed ends must be trimmed faster than they appear, lest they make their way up the hair shaft. Certainly silicone serums and leave-in conditioners lend the appearance of healthier, more put-together hair, but they can actually do more harm than good to your crowning glory in the long run. I’m no scientist, but I am pretty well-versed in hair knowledge, if I do say so myself. Here’s how to get longer, stronger, healthier hair in 2012. Keep reading »
The other night, I met a fellow writer at a dinner party. I’d read her work and followed her online but had no idea what she was really like. I think I assumed because she’s 10 years younger than me and, in my mind, part of the “cool” crowd, that we wouldn’t get along, but we did and were soon chatting away about mutual friends and work and gossip and pop culture.
We took the train back to our neighborhood, and she asked if I wanted to get a drink. I realized in that moment that even though it was freezing cold out, I did want to keep talking. The truth is, though, if one of my other friends had suggested getting a drink at 10:30, I probably would’ve begged off with the excuse that I had overdue work waiting for me. That wouldn’t have been a lie—as a freelancer, I always have something hanging over my head—but it could wait an hour or two. In the same way that I might skip a weekly comedy show because I can always go another time but would get tickets to a special one-night-only event, it seemed like I should take advantage of this opportunity because it was something special. Keep reading »
Alright. Back in the saddle. Literally. It’s been how long? Shudder. Let’s not go there. I’m turning a new leaf. Ew, that sounds like a cheesy ladymag article. Let’s just call it what it is: I’m out of shape and suddenly have a desire to live longer. Exercise is the key to hotness and longevity.
Class getting started. Nice Girl Talk mashup, Instructor Lady. Feeling pumped. OK, time to increase the speed and what? There are definitely parts of my body jiggling that did not jiggle before when I used to do this. I have Bridget Jones “wobbly bits.” They used to not wobble! Wait, stop thinking like that. Think positive. Now is the time to clear my mind. Cleeeaaarrr. Caaaaaalm. Breathe … Keep reading »
In the interest of beginning the year with a little self-reflection, I’ve taken some time to ponder the state of my love life. The landscape is as such: lots of nice guys on the horizon. I said horizon. They are watching me from a distance. Sniffing around my way. Saying howdy. Scuffling away without writing their name on my dance card, if you will.
The good news is, I’ve finally started to attract the kinds of guys I want to. The high-quality ones with good hearts. Only problem is, these guys tend to be more reserved (or maybe respectful?) than the guys I’m used to dating. In the past, the guys who’ve scored dates with me are the guys who approach without hesitation.
I’ve become accustomed to an old-fashioned dating model where I smile, flirt shamelessly, drop breadcrumbs of interest, perform my gender normative role as female and wait for the guy to follow the trail. In the past, I’ve lived by the dating credo, “If he likes me, he’ll come to me.” Keep reading »
You can’t tell just by looking at me, but I live and breathe fashion. I follow all the right blogs, know all the right names, and stalk Style.com like a savant. I whittle away days on the internet amassing perfunctory “wishlists” of items I will never be able to afford, and I have forgone meals in favor of spending my money on thick issues of Vogue in languages I can’t read. I’m in deep.
Still, when you have a kind of go-to look, a uniform even, it grows into a habit that’s hard to break. I’m so comfortable in shades of black and grey, thrown together into a messy lazy-girl formula ruled by skinny jeans, oversized sweaters, and low boots, that I haven’t dared to wear anything else in, well,years. Am I just lackadaisical when it comes to dressing … or am I scared? Keep reading »