I’ve made a pretty revolutionary decision. I’ve decided to never wear anything uncomfortable ever again. Like. Ever….
I’m doing a whole series on this shit. It’s about self-care and feminism and honor! …Or possibly me just being fed up with being fucking uncomfortable. I’ll be hurling all of my itchy, too tight, too high-necked, too-anything out of my closet and into a pile where I will urinate on them and light it all on fire and dance naked around the smelly polyester bonfire….Oh, like you have anything better to do on a Friday night.
I’ll be starting this purge with my shoes, because no itchy sweater, no tight pant, no binding dress can compare to the mass discomfort and mass destruction of high heels.
Continue reading “Fuck High Heels”
Let me preempt this post by saying: maybe you had awesome boomer parents who were wise and gave you guidance and provided you with endless opportunities and pearls of wisdom. In which case, ask them if they are up for adopting a 29-year-old blogger who sometimes only pretends to wash her hands for the comfort of others and is not above eating things out of the garbage.
But this post is for the rest of my contemporaries who, in our guidance-free lives, use #adulting and call all of our other millennial friends when we discover how to load a fucking dishwasher.
Our general cluelessness and enthusiasm for life hacks has been on my mind a lot and has led me to conduct a very unscientific poll. This week I have been asking all my millennial friends, “What is the best piece of advice you ever got from your parents?”
Continue reading “Shit You Might Not Know Because No One Tells Millennials Anything”
Eight weeks ago today, I started Damn Girl. Today, I am so thankful for the support of over 600 subscribers.
Continue reading “Eight Weeks Later”
Is there anything worse than a panic attack? Of course there is. But when one strikes, most of us are willing to sell our own mothers and throw in free shipping to make it stop.
If you are dealing with panic attacks, I know that you are in research overdrive mode and you probably got yourself a fresh bottle of magnesium and a plan and probably a book. Good for you!
No matter how resolute you feel with whatever path you have chosen, save this post. Remember it. You’re going to be processing a lot of information, but bookmark this one. You may need to come back to it.
Continue reading “Anxiety and Panic Attacks”
Remember, Damn, Girl is one-quarter beauty blog. Mama likes to swim in the shallow end of the pool from time to time. Let’s dive in, shall we? Here are the stars of the DGGYST morning routine:
Continue reading “Damn, Girl’s Holy Grail Products”
Today we are tackling a pretty heavy subject: spoiling your children.
Growing up, my mother used to frequently say, “Money is the source of all evil.”
Not only was money evil but it was a personality killer, a relationship ruiner, and a poison to all things good and decent and fluffy in the world. Because of this, there was quite a shortage of things in my house: running water, reliable electricity, food….
Continue reading “The Pride of Poverty and Spoiling Your Kids”
When I am with a client and they start to “go off,” I mean really make a spectacle, a part of me relishes it. I go to my happy place four hours into the future where I waltz into the bar, plop my purse down on the table, and tell my girlfriends, “You’re. Not. Going. To. Believe. This. Shit.” I then revel in their shocked faces while the shit-talking pours freely from my mouth like some kind of Mean Girls-style verbal diarrhea. Lord forgive me.
Like most women with a lot of sauce, the idea of embracing “positive thinking” summons images of girls in skirts made of wheat, singing Kumbaya around a campfire or literally stopping to smell flowers and staring up at the sun to bask in the radiance of the day. Basically, a fucking nightmare.
There are a few mental habits that I have embraced of late, and I feel better for it. So this guide is for my down-to-earth ladies who would like to bring a little positivity into their lives without having to learn to play the ukulele.
Continue reading “The Beginner’s Guide to Positive Thinking in Three Difficult Steps”
Short, long, thick, thin, blonde, or blue, nothing says, “I can’t manage my shit” quite like greasy hair. That being said, I get it: the powers that be deem that washing our hair everyday is unhealthy. Kim Kardashian is going nine days without a wash (ok five) and for some fucking reason we all have to do what Kim Kardashian says because of the deal she made one night at a crossroad.
So if you want to get away with washing your hair less, here’s everything you can do to prolong your wash.
Continue reading “Greasy Hair? Prolong the Shit out of Your Wash”
Ah, hippie shit.
Who among us can resist its siren call? After all, don’t we all want to live in a world where the solution to every problem we have lies in our pantry? Child not doing well in school? Rub em down with cornstarch. Dismissive husband? Simply dab some apple cider vinegar behind his ears (organic, of course).
There’s nothing quite so delightful as the smugness that comes with rubbing oil of oregano onto our feet while drinking chamomile tea and explaining to our girlfriends that western medicine just doesn’t compare when it comes to treating gangrene.
I like to think of myself as a wise woman of the world. But I have a confession: I’m hippie on my mother’s side (so half hippie) but I have a highly tuned bullshit-o-meter. So this means I will stick a clove of garlic up my hoo-ha to get rid of a UTI, but I will not use crystals to alleviate my allergies. Ya feel me?
Here are five Damn Girl tried and true’s:
Continue reading “Hippie Shit That Actually Works”
Answer honestly: do you want your mother’s life?
I could actually hear the NOOOOOOOOO you screamed in your own head, that’s how loud it was.
We don’t want our parents lives. Don’t get caught in the same traps they did. The symbols that baby boomers affixed so much value to are ridiculous, obsolete, and genuinely not the symbols your contemporaries put value on. Below is a list of the shit that nobody hip cares about, and makes you look like a superficial idiot.
Continue reading “Fuck Status Symbols”