It’s 3:30 a.m. and you’re awake again grieving the relationship that didn’t work out. You start to think your needs shouldn’t have ruled the relationship. “Maybe it was my constant whining?” You decide to go down and eat a comforting pint of Rocky Road. After you’ve scarfed your second bag of marshmallows, you decide to
With the holidays arriving along with disgruntled relatives and demanding siblings– now is the time to set the standard about how you would like others to treat you. Boundaries aren’t limited to saying “no.” More importantly, it’s about creating a healthy emotional space between you and others. It becomes more complicated when there’s tension and
“Get a job” is such an easy response to homelessness. Wow. The simplicity of judging someone when they have no fucking idea behind the Sharpie tragedy now scribbled on cardboard. I don’t give a shit who you are—most people don’t dream of searching for a warm shelter or begging for money. There is a
I absolutely hate talking politics. My news feed is packed with Trump haters and Trump lovers. Even though, I personally cannot stand Trump—I still think those with opposing views still have a right to voice their opinion. No matter how much my skin crawls to think about Mexican families being separated from their loved ones,
Anyone who know me agrees that I am a veteran gym rat. Since I was in 7th grade, you could find me at the local dive-gym in Phoenix. I wanted to build muscle, but more importantly, get these huge limbs that dangled from my sides to look more lean. Why couldn’t I just slim down
There have been numerous TV Shows that have portrayed women in very specific ways. I like to think of it as “The Scooby Doo Archetypes.” I don’t know about you, but personally I’m a solid combo of Velma and Daphne—my Scooby Doo idols. I mean Daphne was fashionable and intelligent. She had the hot boyfriend.
At 43, I feel as if I’ve put the cat to shame, because this derby girl is working on her 10thor possibly 11thlife. Each phase of my life has provided struggles. It wasn’t that I lost my mom at 25, struggled with bi-polar disorder or checked into rehab – it was after a break-up. I
I have bipolar disorder. Phew. I said it. It’s out. Not that I usually have a problem admitting it to myself—well, actually that’s a lie. It’s very hard to admit, believe and more crucial—accept. However, it’s even harder for me to write–especially on this platform. But, what the hell, I’m going to be brave, wave
Talking about fitness is a conversation in which everyone will engage. You don’t have to be a meathead, ultra-marathoner or avid tennis player. In fact, you could be a bride discussing her wedding–goalsize, a woman who got shit as a teenager in P.E., or a stroke survivor whose doctor hasn’t given the “return to normal
