Now I believe that morning sickness is Mother Nature’s way of distracting you from the shock of creating a new human. You’re so pre-occupied with feeling like shit that you don’t have time to ask yourself “Oh God, what have I done?!?!”. Continue reading “Seventeen Weeks. Should I worry?”
Page two of Martha Stewart Living is always “Martha’s Month”–a day-by-day window into the life of The Great Martha. She weight trains on Mondays and Fridays. Thursdays is cardio and core. Yoga? Tuesdays. She celebrates birthdays, crafts with her grandchildren, mulches her verdant acres, and polishes her silver. This month, I decided to live like Martha. Sort of.
Martha: Have chimneys cleaned.
Me: I looked at the bricked-up fireplace in our living room and wondered, once again, “is it bricked up because the landlord doesn’t want anyone to use it, or because there are dead things hidden in there.” Either way, it’s nice to have a place to hang stockings. Continue reading “My Martha’s Month – Part 1”
My first real “work trip” was two years ago. My job flew me to San Francisco to produce live fundraising hours and I nearly starved myself to death shortly before nearly eating myself to death
See, I went 11 hours without eating anything. When my vision started to blur, I wolfed down a very large sandwich and drank a very large glass of wine in about 11 seconds. Then I felt so terrible I barely slept and it took me days to feel like a normal human again.
Why?! Why?! Oh Why. Why do I, a grown woman in her mid-30s, sometimes forget how to do the most basic adulting? Is it because my childhood taught me to value what others need from me more than what I need myself, or … no, that’s pretty much it. Continue reading “Self Care On The Road”
I read an article about how “wellness” is the lucrative new thing to sell to women, but you’ll have to take my word for it, because I suddenly have no memory of where I read this article.
The gist of it (I think…?) was that lifestyle companies like magazines, retail, etc are always trying to find trendy new ways to convince women to shell out cash in order to level up their lives. And right now “wellness” is that trendy new way. Athleisure clothing. Juice cleanses. Fitness classes. Specialty foods. Yoga retreats. All of these are sold as solutions to problems women are told they have, and they can be pretty expensive solutions. Continue reading “Wellne$$”
Over brunch, a friend who is a brain doctor described to my wife and me a college seminar she recently taught about different famous cases of traumatic brain injury. She called the seminar “Headcases.”
My wife suffered several concussions when she was kid. After one of them, she said she slept for about 12 hours. Which is, of course, the exact opposite of what a concussion patient is supposed to do.
I know I’m not the only one who finds the human brain fascinating, and loves to read about the strange ways it can react to trauma–someone gains a skill they never had before, or loses one, or starts to speak with an accent. But as more and more examples of chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE) start to publicly manifest in football players, and we outside of medicine learn more about the awful long-term effects of concussions, brain trauma has become less of a fascinating medical oddity to me and more of a reminder that the abuse my wife suffered as a child might never truly leave her be. Continue reading “Headcase vs Headspace”
Last Sunday I went to my exercise class and then started grocery shopping. Mid-Trader Joes aisle, I suddenly thought I might start to cry. And not because the store was playing a Smiths song, which is my usual Trader Joes trigger. I held back my tears by impulse buying four bunches of flowers–my wife knows when I bring home multiple bouquets, I have the blues, and if I bring home an entire plant, well, it’s really serious.
By the time I’d gotten home, filled the fridge with fresh ingredients and taken a shower while drinking a can of La Croix (Pamplemousse, obviously), I felt more stable. But I still wondered what the hell had come over me. Continue reading “Reverberation Time”
When time was ticking down to my brother’s wedding, and something threatened to go sideways, he’d say “can I just give you a thousand dollars?” That makes my brother sound reckless or douchey and he’s neither. He was a man beating a clock, hoping some Benjamins could keep trouble at bay.
There are 39 days until my own wedding and the temptation to start throwing money at problems is very real. What’s stopping me? You’d think it would be my bank account, but actually it’s my girlfriend. Continue reading “Can I Just Give You A Thousand Dollars?”