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An imperfect life guide for women

personal-essays

Dirty Dancing

How a Salsa Dancing Class Helped Me Get in Touch with my Body

“I hate my arms,” I said, scowling at the floor-length mirror with them outstretched wide, looking more like a Boeing 777 than a delicate bird. “Stop. Stop right there,” Vladimir told me. “Do you know what you just said?” “Yes. I said I hate my arms.” “See? That negative talk? We need to e-lim-i-nate that!” Vladimir… Read More »

YoungAndExhausted

We Are All Exhausted; We Are All Alive

I’m fucking tired, can you tell? When I look at myself more closely in the mirror, my skin is still soft. The dark(er) circles that weigh heavy beneath my bottom eyelashes are almost obscured by the thick, creamy foundation I lathered on this morning. The zit or two around my chin are barely noticeable. I… Read More »

Monica with friz hair

Hey Summer: I’m Just Not That Into You

Dear Summer, I know back in the snail-mail-sending days, this would be the time of year your mailbox would be full to the brim with odes of undying devotion from sun-worshippers. I know pagan rituals celebrate your arrival the same way 3rd-graders celebrate the end of school, the same way beer-at-2pm enthusiasts celebrate open-patio-season. And… Read More »

shutterstock_103754687

On Depression

David Lynch calls it the “suffocating rubber clown suit of negativity.” Churchill referred to his bouts as his “black dog” days. For Sylvia Plath it was an airless glass bell jar. I’ve found depression to be like a leaden hand to the forehead, ushering me down the basement steps. This January, the first staccato notes… Read More »

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