I am an approval junkie.

Am I an elitist because I like wine?

Sometimes art helps illuminate science.

This is America; our icons are complicated.

Wanting to be loved and appreciated connects us all.

I'll never get complacent. I am my own toughest critic.

Nothing ages you more immediately than being called 'Mrs.'

I'm squandering invaluable gray matter by censoring myself.

The boy taught from infancy to be tough is emotionally doomed.

Wildfires can leave the land with burn scars that last for years.

As a mother, I don't want any girl twerking near my kid at a bat mitzvah.

John Travolta is getting old, despite what his hair is trying to tell us.

Snowflakery is simply being human, which makes it a pretty flakey insult.

I tell my kids all the time that I'm so lucky they chose me to be their mom.

If I could have had my baby sooner, I would have, simply to spend more years with him.

Approval makes the world go round, even if many of us want to transcend our hunger for it.

Well-done eyelash extensions make you look beautiful and doe-eyed without a lick of makeup.

Mother's Day is a bittersweet day for many of us. We all have mothers, but some of us have lost them.

I'm not proud that, in my time, I've tried to harness the power of prayer to fit into a pair of jeans.

I admit I feel funny when I use the word 'whom' as I'm talking to my diapered children, but I persist.

Did you know you're supposed to soap and scrub for as long as it takes to sing 'Happy Birthday' twice?

Not that I'm any good at it, but the beauty of meditation is that it liberates us from our own thoughts.

I don't think, in my entire 18 years as a student, I ever used an exclamation point in an academic paper.

Just as kids need to learn to respect their elders, we are a society that increasingly respects our youth.

I know how much sleep I need, how much time on the elliptical I need, and how much chocolate that buys me.

Social media provides a constant platform on which to feature what we deem beautiful, meaningful, and worthy.

The custom of clasping hands is thought to date back thousands of years, as proof of not holding any weapons.

One man's content is another woman's crap. And the crappy content - let's call it crontent - will never go away.

I spent my late twenties and all of my thirties figuring out what I was supposed to be doing and where my home was.

Divorce court seemed to inspire in my girlfriends 1940s-era fashion fantasies, not only for me, but for themselves.

I'm not actually perishing, but I do feel like I die a little every time someone uses 'literally' to mean 'really.'

Donald Trump, who surely has lots of high-stakes issues on which to focus, is consumed with the appearance of women.

The t-shirts that declare 'Girls Rule the World' offer an empirical falsehood, but at least the aspiration is there.

I think the curation consternation is this: Just because you like something or list something, are you really curating?

We all think Al Gore invented email so we could save time and save paper, to save trees. And that includes phone trees.

When I was a kid, we called every teacher, every parent - anyone over the age of 20, it seemed - 'Mr. or Mrs. so-and-so.'

I don't mean to brag, but my water filter curates tap water, offering moi the finest combination of H, 2, and O available.

I have no problem being full-term pregnant and do not understand women who say, 'I can't wait to get this baby out of me!'

I've spent my life being responsible, building a career, and waiting to find the right partner with whom to start a family.

Manspread, mansplaining, manterrupting - all of it, whether conscious or not, diminishes women's voices, minds, and bodies.

I think there's something very disingenuous about literally all people who say that they don't care about anyone's approval.

The option to freeze one's eggs is just about the most empowering choice a single woman who knows she wants to be a mother can make.

On a meaningful day, everything you wear can have meaning. It becomes what I wore That Day, whether that day is a beginning or an end.

In case you don't watch much TV or spend time with anyone under 40, 'Really?' is pop culture's pithiest way to deliver a withering put-down.

For weeks I ran through a mental inventory of my closet. Did I want to wear something new - to christen it and forever make it The Divorce Dress?

I'm no scientist, but I'll dare extrapolate and say that it's pretty obvious that the more you struggle to recall something, the smarter you are!

Shaking hands is a pretty good way to get yourself sick, not necessarily with Ebola, but with a million other germs that can cause colds and flu.

'Man cave' seems retrograde, but 'she shed' seems progressive. Or maybe it's just a place for me to eat embarrassing amounts of chocolate in private.

They say there are no atheists in foxholes, and in the foxhole of my divorce, I found solace in walking to St. Patrick's Cathedral and lighting candles.

Adverbs, we know, are meant to modify a verb, an adjective, or another adverb. They help us understand things more clearly, more vividly, more... morely.

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