Why I Am Not Freaking Out About Gaining Weight Just Before Summer (When Emotional Eating [and smoking] is OK)

A few lifetimes ago I found myself at the entrance to the Lincoln Tunnel with my driver’s door smashed in so badly that it could barely stay closed. Two of NYPD’s finest (and finest ;) extricated me out of the passenger’s side. One went over to handle the other driver, the other had me lean against the trunk and asked me if I smoked.

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How Self-Love, Self-Care and Self-Compassion Are Different (and also irrelevant)

With summer around the corner (in this corner of the world), there’s a lot of talk about being your best self, which somehow links to self-care and self-love, both of which can lead to self-meanness, which then calls for self-compassion. So before we drive all of our selves completely crazy, here’s a breakdown of what’s up, and why it doesn’t really matter.

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Why Being Yourself is so Much Harder Than Becoming Your Best Self

The answer is right there - in the grammar.

There’s a word that separates Your and Self - a word that allows you to set your goals, commit to your workout, juice your greens, save your money, hit your target, meet your soulmate, meditate to keep calm and carry on in pursuit of your best self. Whereas being yourself doesn’t require anything - not a dash, not a comma, not a space.

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I Am (still) a Swinger. Not *that* kind of swinger. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that.)

My swinging occurs almost everywhere else — in my food, in my mood, in my parenting, in my productivity. Some days I️ go full throttle, others I️ stay down low. Also known as black-and-white and ‘woah, you are too much!’ what I️’ve never been called is middle-of-the-road.

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On Feeling Full (aka The Fear of Not Wanting Anything At All)

Panic is how I would describe it. The feeling I had when presented with my cake and candles and the moment to make my wishes (oh yes, even at fifty, I take my birthday wishes très seriously). Panic because nothing came to mind. I felt full. Full of food and drink, yes, but also full in that place that always has a yearning. That low-level hum of wanting more. That irritating itch of desire that feels unscratchable. That void which drives my drive, my ambition, my force. Devoid of the void, I am...fine?

That’s no way to live.

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How a Facebook Post Changed My Perspective on Turning Fifty (When Gratitude is Not an Attitude)

I’ve been reflecting on my fiftieth for some time now. Taking stock of my life, going over what I have accomplished, grieving all that I have not, reflecting on time that has past that I will never get again. Some say age is just a number, but in the game of life, resources are limited, and age is a barometer of time, a measure of how much has gone by and what is still left.

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Why It’s All In Your Mind (aka The Story of Our Lives)

I once asked Claude how she kept her jeans and tees so crisp and white. “I bleach the fuck out of them,” she said.

Claude is a brilliant artist with a great sense of humor, but of all our exchanges over after-school pick up, this is the one I remember.

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Reconnecting to Your Self (Whatever That Means)

I got married 21 years ago today. That’s 21 years of struggles and stress, celebrations and surprises (some more pleasant than others). 21 years of my belly growing, my heart expanding and my tolerance increasing as I learned to make room in and around myself for the (amazing) people that I share my life with.

21 years of figuring out how to compromise, to share, to think of others without losing myself.

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The Problem with Getting What You Want (Let's Talk About Desire)

The problem with getting what you want is that there is always more want underneath. Once you satisfy your appetite for food or for things or for power or for experiences, your desire becomes unleashed. There is more to want. More to yearn for, more to long for.

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You’re Better than the Cheesecake Factory (What LA Taught Me About Turning Fifty)

I haven’t been to LA in 25 years. It’s not personal - we’re just not a match(a). I used to come here for work and race back home when I was done. The place was pretty, but fake, plastic-y, a watered down version of its magical onscreen presence. The people felt the same as well - all smiles but little more - with one of my least favorite questions making me feel like work is the worth here, and little else. I opted for New York and its absolute reality.

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