As I officially embrace being a “thirty-something”, my (not so)little boy will have his final single-digit birthday in just a few weeks.
I contemplated the busyness and the hours I’ve lost worrying about whether or not I’m “doing it right” or “doing it well enough”.
Smoothie bowls differ a little bit from smoothies in that they’re thicker, and thus harder to consume via a straw.
What’s not to love about whiter teeth and a better clean feeling?
In the past five years, my perspective on weight and, in particular, owning a scale has shifted.
I stood staring at him. What would I change? Would I go back in time and finish that degree? Would I get rid of the extra skin and the stretch marks on my stomach, the ones I often hide?
The less than idyllic truth is this: sometimes our dreams are bullshit.