My Dog Doesn’t Eat my Underwear Anymore

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or How my dog drove me to get Botox.   In past years having my period at work meant I regularly employed the old tampon up your sleeve on the way to the rest room routine. But of late I take a different tack. In my dotage, I march towards the restroom twirling my tampon like a baton. Continue Reading

Blogging Myself Young

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So, 2015 is the year I turn fifty.  Which means it's also the year I do my damnedest not to LOOK like I'm turning 50.  Luckily, I'm a blogger, and there are any number of companies willing to exploit my hysteria over the big five-oh, by offering me youth enhancing services to try. From cures for Continue Reading

Fifty Signs I’m Turning 50 this Year

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The New Year is upon us once again.  And while you may think of it as 2015, I think of it as "the Year I'm going to turn 50." Fifty!! How did that happen?  Well, it took about fifty years.  Luckily, with centenarians the fastest growing age group in the US, I can still call myself middle aged.  But Continue Reading

I Miss My Car

In the annals of reality television, perhaps no show is as weird as My Strange Addiction, the show about people addicted to things like eating toilet paper, eating glass, licking their cats.  Really.  But one of the weirdest -- and one of the only episodes I've ever seen - featured a man who was Continue Reading

My 20 Year Quest to Lose the Same Ten Pounds

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Yup.  The title of this post is my tagline.  And sadly, it's now become 15 pounds. Although when I wrote that tagline I probably only needed to lose seven, but the line sounded funnier with ten. Now -- not so funny. I've written about how I'm going to accept that I'm never going to accept my body. Continue Reading

Put some clothes on!!!

This week, summer prematurely came to New York and with it, came a few discoveries.  1. People on the East Side spend a lot of time on their knees, while people on the West Side spend a lot of time on their food.  How else to explain the plethora of tulips, hyacinths, and daffodils sprouting from Continue Reading

On Aging and Momming and Really Bad Math

I don't buy the new cultural zeitgeist that forty is thirty, thirty is twenty-one, and sixty is twenty-two. Has no one done the math? And I'm not thirty. Just ask my crows' feet and slackening jawline. If forty's the new thirty, somebody forgot to tell my thighs. And my ovaries. Oh, and my neck. Continue Reading