Like most of you, I recently read the Elle article about what Amanda Chantal Bacon, a woman who may just be a low-blood-sugar-induced hallucination of Gwyneth Paltrow’s, eats in a given day. It was a lot like the first time I read Shakespeare or heard an interview with Bob Dylan. I knew it was English, but…
Last week, a dear friend of mine from childhood texted me to let me know that her mother had died. I’d known her – and, by extension, her mother – since I was in the third grade. During our awkward, formative years my friend and I and a cadre of other girls (equally nerdy and well-behaved, for the most…
When you are my age, everyone starts caring about your uterus. Not in a fun way, where they send it text messages or memes featuring shirtless Jeff Goldblum circa Jurassic Park, but in a very critical, “what the fuck is wrong with your downstairs human factory and, by extension, you” kind of way. Because if…
I don’t like horror movies. I think it’s because I don’t find violence or death to be that entertaining. I’m not trying to be holier-than-thou – I just really, really dislike being scared. It’s probably because I’m scared all the time, anyway (it’s a byproduct of my anxiety. Basically, any time I’m alone and anything…
I am talking about relationships with a friend in a dark restaurant. Rand has left the table for a moment, ostensibly to use the bathroom, though most likely to try to steal the bill. I have seen the two of them do this dance before, a race to see who can put down his credit…
There has been a lot of talk about mental illness lately. It comes up in the wake of any major shooting to explain the assailant’s actions. They were crazy, people say. Insane. Unsound. Even when there is clear evidence to the contrary. Even when the people are competent to stand trial. It is an approach…
As a lifelong pumpkin aficionado, I have a special place in my heart for the baccanalian gourd-fuckfest that is fall. From the end of September until Thanksgiving, I ingest so many orange-hued treats that my farts smell of cinnamon and nutmeg (“They do not.” – my husband, pumpkin hater and fart snob). I remain, for…
There are spans of time in my life that can be characterized by a theme (there was The Beatles Period in the late 90s, The Carey Grant Epoch in the early 2000s, The Age of Veronica Mars not long after that). This may happen on its own – we’ll see recurring motifs or images, or a…
Last month, some dear friends gave Rand and me Fitbits. If you are unfamiliar with the product, it’s sort of like a pedometer, but more judgmental. It keeps track of the steps you’ve taken, your heart rate, calories burned, and whether or not you’ve called your mother recently. Mostly, it exists to make you feel…
Tales of Food, Feminism, and Fury
by Geraldine DeRuiter
Available Now!
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