Like many women, I’m in the middle of a lifelong quest for better feminine health. We all have our little tips and tricks to ease and support ourselves during “that time of the month.” I want to share with you the ones that have made the biggest difference for me and solicit the ones that have made the biggest difference for you.
So let’s gather outside the cave to tell each other which berries we should rub on our boobs for an easier cycle and a better corn crop.
Continue reading “How to PMS Better”
What good things have come out of your time in quarantine?
I bet it’s something and I want to know what it is. Did you learn how to play the ukulele? Have you finally mastered the perfect ratio of bubble bath to water? Did you learn something about your partner you never knew before? Was it that he is actually a ghost from the 1970s and has been dead this whole time? Because obviously, we all want to hear that story so stop being so selfish and tell us. Or maybe you organized your pantry or whatever.
Regardless, I want to know what you have learned, started learning, excelled at, or changed during this most unusual time in all our lives. Here’s mine:
Continue reading “What Are You Doing for Yourself in Quarantine?”
I’ve never been wild about the idea of romance. When I was young, I always had a crush on the Disney villain, felt nothing for Prince William, and thought that Romeo and Juliet were so unstable that had they not killed themselves over a relationship that lasted a whopping four days, they had little chance of overcoming inevitable “baby mama drama,” “just can’t even’s, and “who is she, huh huh”s.
I have been with my husband since I was 19. I am in love with him. He comes home from work, we have a drink, cook a meal, make love, go for a stroll. It’s smooth sailing. On Valentines Day there are gifts, trips to New Orleans, bubble baths. “I love you’s are exchanged dozens of times a day along with a slew of adorable pet names that would turn the strongest of stomachs. My favorite is “dragon baby” or maybe “little cat wolf.” Sickening.
While I do appreciate and expect a certain level of romancing and spontaneity out of my husband, I think that it is not only necessary but preferable that the main provider of romance and intrigue in my life be me.
As a society, we have started to come around to this idea. We call it “self-care.” And while I am a wild about it, there is this maternal, almost wound-licking tone to it that makes me questions its lasting effectiveness.
Self-romancing is a lifestyle. It’s not something you pull out when you’ve gone overboard with your commitments, become too entrenched with family drama, or realized your children may just eat you alive if you let them.
Continue reading “The Importance of Romancing Yourself”
I am a very physically affectionate person. If it were socially acceptable I would introduce myself to new people by biting at their stomachs and nuzzling their neck.
Almost every week I swap full-body massages with my girlfriends. I kiss people goodbye and hello and my poor husband has bald patches all over his otherwise hairy body from being love-nuzzled.
I think one of the saddest lessons life teaches us is to not let ourselves be touched. Men learn not to “be gay” and women learn, often through experiences with sexual assault, to be afraid.
With introversion finally getting its time in the limelight (calm down introverts, you can have the limelight on you and still hide under the stairs in the dark) and every talk show host/therapist/blogger talking about setting your boundaries, it is easier than ever to not let yourself be touched.
To touch is to trust
Yes, I think you should challenge yourself to let someone touch you. To touch is to trust. I think it is something worth working on. And I know no one else will tell you this because you are scary with your thick outer shell of scales and that look on your face like you’ve seen some shit. But I’m gonna because mama loves you and knows what’s best.
In all seriousness, I get it. Once you’ve been violated, not touching and letting yourself be touched is not only the instinctual thing to do, but it is easy to tell yourself that those feelings should not be questioned, ever.
So let’s prod at that sensitive area. Today I want to talk about how to touch and be touched when that’s the last thing you want to do.
Continue reading “A Touchy Subject: How to Work on Being Touched”
You know those exorcism movies where the possessed person is tied to a bed and they bring a priest in and the demon expert is like, “Whatever you do, do not cross the salt boundary,” and then the possessed person is like, “Ahhh, you like Honey Bunches of Oats, don’t you, father?!” and then the priest leaps across the salt barrier and is like “YOU KNOW I LIKE RAISIN BRAN! YOU SICK FUCK!” and the demon bites his ear off?
And then they drag the priest out of the room and they leave the mother of the possessed person in the room alone and then the demon is like, “Oh hello, motha! You know your lilacs are not going to bloom this year, don’t you?” and then the mother leaps across the salt boundary and is like, “I BOUGHT THE EXPENSIVE FERTILIZER!” and then there goes one of her ears, you are like, “For gods sake, stop letting this demon manipulate you! Don’t cross the fucking salt boundary, what did he just say?!”
Yeah, I love those movies. I am always so judgmental, shaking my head at these morons taking the bait. I would never cross the salt boundary. Then my mother will call me and say, “You know everyone feels sorry for your husband,” and I will be like “AHHHH!!! FUCK THIS SALT BARRIER, I WILL KILL YOU!”
Today I want to talk about toxic relationships.
Continue reading “How to Keep a Toxic Relationship”
Spring is right around the corner! Better weather, new beginnings, and for many of us, it means a lot more social, work, and family responsibilities. If for you that translates into outright panic or good old-fashioned stress, here are three great strategies for when you are freaking the fuck out.
Continue reading “What to Do When You Are Freaking the Fuck Out”
There is a vicious rumor going around that it’s the new year. Fake news strikes again. Sad.
Oh wait… Shit… It is the new year.
Well, I guess that explains the recent tsunami of articles about “How to Go to the Gym,” “How to Keep Going to the Gym,” “How to Get to the Gym,” “How to Stay at the Gym Once You Get There,” “How to Not Just Buy a T-Shirt From the Gym That Says, ‘Namasté Fit’ and Then Never Return,” etc.
Yes, people descend on the gym on new years like people descend on the grocery store at news of an approaching storm.
Sure, you don’t like spam or tofu flavored popcorn or the bench press but this is an emergency, goddamnit! You will pay the $9 for the blood sausage, the $90 a month for the gym membership, and you will just wait for the storm of expectation to pass.
Oh, fuck the gym. Fuck the gym so hard. (Note: my traffic soars any time I use the word “fuck” in the title of a post. “Fuck High Heels” is my most popular performing post by like a million disappointed perverts.)
My big new year’s truth bomb is pretty obvious, yet one of those things that is so easily forgotten:
exercise and the gym are not mutually exclusive.
Continue reading “Fuck the Gym”
Write what you know.
This week I have been sick, sick, sick, sick. I mean real sick, like binge-watching Keeping Up With The Kardashians sick.
I so rarely get sick that I didn’t realize how fucking bad I was at it. But in true DGGYST form, over the course of one week I’ve managed to grab sick by the balls… and sneeze all over them.
I want to give you some great tips on how to survive the cold and flu season that you haven’t already heard:
Continue reading “You. Sick. Bitch.”
There is that first day of fall where you feel like the world is a magical place, full of wonder and change. A bit later comes that fall day when shit starts to get real and you realize you have fifty years of fucking winter stretching out before you.
On that day, which for most of us is between November 1st – 5th, you need to take your supplies of feel-good fall energy and use them to rescue your future self.
Seasonal depression is the bane of my existence. It will be the middle of July and I will be like, “You Fools! Put down your volleyballs and summer shandies! Winter Is Coming!”
I’ve been training for this all year, so consider me your honorary Ph.D in S.A.D. and how to dodge it
Continue reading “Oh Crap, It’s About to Be Winter”
Ah, dieting. The most futile endeavor of our times. Diets completely work while we are on them, and then suddenly stop when we go off them. It’s a mystery worthy of Scooby-Doo.
It takes a level of deranged self-importance to think that one could make a meaningful contribution to the endless amount of lifestyle tips, healthy eating hacks, or diet tricks at this point of insufferable saturation. Luckily, I have that level of deranged self-importance, and am going to blow your mind. Then run for president.
So without further ado, I present the Damn, Girl Diet:
Continue reading “The Damn, Girl Diet”