My Body Now

My body now.

The handful of fat around my stomach; The slaloms right above the backside of my underwear– all soft and a little bright pink; The way my thighs slope inward together towards my knees; They are marked with dozens of dotted scars fading from rust to pink to purple to gray; The nape of my neck rounding out my back towards soft shoulders:

All of which would have leveled me a few years ago. While my real life ass remains alive and well, I’ve worked my metaphorical one off to renew my perspective on this body. The stories and rules (some spoken, most not) that kept me on a narrow path, hands bloodied as I clutched to a mountainside with a steep drop-off to my right. The momentarily significant seconds I spend considering my naked body each day has shifted. The lack of corners and rise of visual nuance this body now offers has– wait. No. Not ‘offers.’ ‘Offering’ to who? ‘Offering’ to meet what criteria of pass or failure?  These 140 something pounds feel more aligned with what Julia Looks Like than the bones of a sharp pelvis or a breezeway between my thighs ever could come close to. Not that I ever came close to them either. They never belonged to me. I doubt they ever will.

I wear tank tops when it’s hot.
I wear a bathing suit when I swim.
I wear dresses to parade my confidence.
I wear jeans when I get shit done.
I never wear shorts because that relationship is over.
They know what they did.
I run when I want to scream about life.
I collapse into child’s pose when I feel like I might need to cry.
I go to bed grateful. 

What I’m Into Today: Six Fairy Tales for Modern Women


Once upon a time a woman never got married, but had many fulfilling relationships, a job that kept her comfortable, an apartment that she got to decorate just for her, and hobbies that stimulated her mind.

The End.


Once upon a time a woman and a man tried having babies, but it didn’t work, so when they were past the age of trying, they decided that they had enough disposable income to travel the world, and so they did, and it was awesome, and both of them felt okay about it, and no one gave them any grief over it, either.

The End.


Once upon a time a woman was approached by a drunk guy in a dark alley, but he was very polite, and explained that he had driven to the bar, but because he was responsible, he didn’t want to drive home, but his cell phone was dead, so he asked the lady to call him a cab. She did, and he was grateful, and they said pleasant goodbyes before going their separate ways.

The End.


Once upon a time a woman was very good at her job, and she knew she had added value to the company she worked for, so even though she was nervous, she talked to her boss, and asked for a raise, and she got it.

The End.


Once upon a time a woman grew up in a land-locked state, and continued to live there because she had married her high school sweetheart, and his job was tied to the area, and she wanted to stay close to her parents, but she had always wished she had learned to surf. So when she turned 65 she used some of the money from her savings account, took her first ever solo vacation to the coast, and took a week’s worth of surfing lessons, and had a very nice time.

The End.


Once upon a time a young girl grew up reading magazines about beauty products and consequently felt very self-conscious about her acne. She tried a bunch of treatments that had varying degrees of success, and never left the house without a full face of makeup. She started using anti-aging products when she was 20, thinking that prevention would work better than a cure. But when she turned 30 she still had acne that she had hoped to outgrow, but somehow it just didn’t seem to matter as much. She would sometimes run errands without any makeup at all. And despite the preventative care she had tried to do in her early twenties, she started developing some wrinkles on her forehead in her late twenties. But again, somehow, it just didn’t seem to bother her as much as the prospect had when she was younger. When she was in her forties her skin had continued to wrinkle, but she cared even less, and was pleased to see that the wrinkles around her eyes made it look like she smiled a lot, which made her smile more, and she cared even less, and she only wore makeup when she wanted to, and never felt obligated to do so. When she was 80 her skin was thinner and delicate, but reminded her of really beautiful tissue paper, and she was happier, and felt more confident as a person than she ever had.

via The Hairpin

Turns out anyone can start a podcast.

Guys! Exciting news. My friend, Lindsay and I are very excited to force you all to listen to us talk about things that are surprisingly relevant to both of us… considering our MASSIVE age gap. No, we’re kidding. Age is just a number. Or a state of mind. Then again… her husband Greg (our food correspondent) does drive Honda Accord.


We’re just baby podcasters. And I say “um” too much. But, love us or leave us– we’re here to stay!

Stay tuned to for more episodes every other week. Hopefully. No. Definitely. We’re definitely doing it. This is happening…? Yes.

What I’m into Today: Cleaning my face the French way.

Just watched this video from ITG on, of all things, how to wash your face.

At the risk of losing all my friends/ future beauty advice credibility, I will admit that I only started regularly (and by regularly, I mean ever) washing my face as of maybe…. yikes… 3 or 4 years ago. Yeah. Explains a lot about a lot. Now, I’m kind of addicted to skincare and I truly can’t fall asleep without washing my face, brushing my teeth (if this one sounds like a given, you clearly didn’t know me as a child…or in high school), taking my vitamins and moisturizing the heck out of my face.

So, color me shocked after I watched this video and realized that I’m still doing everything wrong when it comes to skin.

Things I’m thinking while watching this video:

  1. ok, so she’s French. My immediate reaction to being around anyone who is French is to admit my own bridge trollness. Accept it and move on, you American scum.
  2. I need a white jumpsuit.
  3. My body would look like a full roll of toilet paper in that white jumpsuit.
  4. “This seems simple, but is not.” She knows her audience. And I already can feel myself failing at this before I even begin.
  5. “Termal” water = Thermal water = Apparently ESSENTIAL
  6. Her face/ the shake of her chin when she says “Eet’s a clean wawta” screams “THE FACT THAT YOU DON’T KNOW MEANS IT’S TOO LATE.”
  7. She seems like the kind of person that Harry Styles would date
  8. She seems like the kind of person that Harry Styles would write a song about where-in there’s a line that talks about how beautiful she is when she cries.
  9. Penetrate. Lol.
  10. I never do the neck…………
  11. I’ve never spent this much time touching my own face. Or swimming.
  12. (Googles ‘tepid’)
  13. On dabbing: So, it’s bad when I push the washcloth against the under part of my eyes and drag it across my face with all of my own strength to get the mascara off?
  14. So if my skin is like silk… but in real life, I never buy silk things bc I’m afraid I’ll ruin them… am I screwed?
  15. I’m calling bull shit on that tissue paper part. There’s no way that your face isn’t covered in little tiny paper particles after that step.
  16. (Amazon Prime searches ‘termal water’)
  18. Penetration. Lol.
  19. I’m sorry but how is she literally one thousand times more beautiful after taking all of her makeup off? You’re trying to tell me that not all women look like a wet pre-me baby without four layers of makeup on at all times? Show me the receipts.
  20. That is crazy that after all that, she STILL gets visible dirt off those pads. Our faces are disgusting.

Going to try this whole process tonight and maaayybe tomorrow night and then probably forget all about it and never do it again. But see #1: American Trash Bridge Troll. It’s what I know.


K byeeeeeeeeee.

What I’m into Today: This Article About Advice from Your Younger Self

Introduction and also Spoiler alert: a good 65% of the things I find interesting on the internet and share with my friends is from a blog called Cup of Jo. But I didn’t need to tell you that because you probably already read it too. It’s just consistently good and Joanna and her writers feel like friends to me. I have a strict “don’t bug a celebrity in public” policy, but one time in New York, I saw Joanna at a Madewell and HAD to say hi and tell her how much I’ve enjoyed her blog for… well, actually since I was in high school. I still feel bad about it a little bit, but I couldn’t help myself.

Anywho, she posted a collection of pieces of Advice for My Younger Self from a bunch of famous women. This isn’t really a new concept and there are a lot of these on the internet and a lot of them are wonderful too, but this all just is hitting me at a really good time. A lot of unexpected/expected/scary/exciting life changes in this week (even though it’s only Wednesday morning!) have gone down and I feel both a really empowering feeling of capability and a sense of “This is cool! These are big life things and I’m handling them well! I’m an adult lady!” / pat on the back vibes and then also feeling completely out of my league and the child-like desire for someone to tell me what to do. I’m being purposely broad about what exactly is going down because that itself is something I’ve learned along the way and maybe my advice to my younger self: “Shut your mouth. Stop talking. You don’t have to tell everyone everything. Nor should you.”

My favorite of the article is from Sheryl Strayed who said, “Don’t worry so much about finding the answers and finding love and finding success. Just do your work. Live your life. Be kind. Be good. Pay your own electric bill. It’s going to turn out okay.”

AREN’T WE ALL JUST LEARNING AND DOING IT IN A GOOD WAY?  Pretty sure I’m not the only one.

But ok — here’s a link to the article.

What I’m into Today: It’s Kind of a Funny Story by MR

My eyes widen and my heart warms when I see that Man Repeller has posted another “It’s Kind of a Funny Story” article.

As single as I am, I have lived enough years and have enough friends with normal, healthy relationships with relationships that I know that love stories in the wild are not like Romantic Comedies. Which bums me out because I love a J Lo / McConaughey combo. But I have learned this. I have accepted it. The guys I don’t like in real life are really the guys I don’t like in real life and not my future husband. My regular coffee shop is just my regular coffee shop… nomatter how much subtle eye-contact I make with the cute non-wedding ring wearing guy reading Tolstoy. Meet cutes don’t really happen. But then again, THEY KIND OF DO! Because if it’s true that real life really is stranger than fiction, then doesn’t that make real life love stories way more romantic than fiction ones?

If you don’t believe me, take a beat and read a few of these *highly detailed* accounts of how these very happy and very cool couples got their start. Because let’s be honest, when you ask someone “So, how’d you two meet?” and they give you the highly unsatisfying and MAYBE KIND OF RUDE TO ME answer “Through friends,” IT’S BULLSHIT. I know, you know, we know, he knows that that is NOT the whole story. It’s never that simple. And, listen, if it is, I’m actually not interested in continuing the conversation. You’re boring. Anyway, we all know that there’s like so much more… I was leaving for school in two weeks, I’d been creeping on him since Freshman Year, We went to 10 years of grade school together but weren’t friends, We dated in secret for months bc of our jobs… maybe all real life examples from my friends… maybe not… I’m just saying.

Go pour yourself a cup of coffee and then spike it with a little bit of alchy, sit down, and dig in. You’ll love them, I swear.

Find them here.

What I’m into Today: Ben Higgins… All over again.


I am a simple girl. With simple wants and needs.

I like my coffee decaf with vanilla so that it barely tastes like coffee.
I like my books obscure enough to make me sound interesting, but basic enough that they don’t make me feel dumb.
I like my music Top 40.
I like my steaks medium rare. With some sort of buttery sauce.
And I like my Bachelor Leads to be as close to Ben Higgins, if not actually Ben Higgins, forever.

Don’t even get me started on the shit show that is Nick Viall’s season of the Bachelor. We’ll be here all day and I won’t be practicing Shine Theory, so I’ll refrain.

But, instead, I am just going to highlight this episode of ‘Bachelor Party’ (my Bachelor recap podcast of choice) on Channel 33 with guest, the one and only, Ben Higgins and THEN LOOK ME IN THE EYES AND TELL ME THAT HE ISN’T THE GREATEST BACHELOR WE NEVER KNEW WE HAD.

Funny. Kind. Apparently as of the record of this podcast works a totally boring, but stable sales job that says “My longterm plan isn’t to hawk Tummy Tea on Instagram.” He even gets a little deep on the episode and states clearly his views on women not using their overt sexuality to be good enough for a guy. Bravo!

I’m cutting myself off before this get’s weird. But I’m just saying. Ben. Come back to us. But don’t. Because that’ll mean that you and Lauren have broken up and I don’t want that for you.

So, I guess, keep coming back to be a guest on this podcast. And then continue to live your life in Colorado obscurity looking caught off gaurd and a little bit annoyed in Lauren’s Snapchat stories. Yes. That’s what I would like. We miss you.