Approval makes the world go round, even if many of us want to transcend our hunger for it.
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?
Whenever I told women - friends or acquaintances - that I had to go to divorce court, they'd invariably, without skipping a beat, ask, 'What are you going to wear?' It was like instant female solidarity: of course it mattered what I was going to wear.
Divorce court seemed to inspire in my girlfriends 1940s-era fashion fantasies, not only for me, but for themselves.
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.
I've always wanted, notionally, to be a mother. And I was certain I would be, because everyone I know, gay or straight, married or single, rich or not so much, who truly wants to have a child figures out a way, some way, to have one - whether through adoption, fostering, surrogacy, fertility, accident, or persistence.
Well-done eyelash extensions make you look beautiful and doe-eyed without a lick of makeup.
If you want to become a mother, you can. I promise. It may not happen the way you think, but it's possible. It just takes a combination of a little planning and a lot of living your life.
My first husband and I never came close to having kids.
I spent my late twenties and all of my thirties figuring out what I was supposed to be doing and where my home was.
Most of my best friends had children in their early 40s.
Donald Trump, who surely has lots of high-stakes issues on which to focus, is consumed with the appearance of women.
Making fun of people's looks is something that children do - mean children - and, in fact, linguists have determined that Trump actually speaks like a 3rd grader.
People who champion Trump say they don't want politics-as-usual. But 'politic' is also an adjective. It means 'tactful and diplomatic.' It's necessary for an elected official to be politic.
Hours after I gave birth to my first child, my husband cradled all five pounds of our boy and said, gently, 'Hi, Sweetpea.' Not 'Buddy' or 'Little Man.' Sweetpea. The word filled me with unanticipated comfort.
The t-shirts that declare 'Girls Rule the World' offer an empirical falsehood, but at least the aspiration is there.
The boy taught from infancy to be tough is emotionally doomed.
I don't think, in my entire 18 years as a student, I ever used an exclamation point in an academic paper.
Real love is more than a one-time, seemingly iron-clad pledge that we will never be apart. If you're over 20, you've probably figured out that meaningful love isn't constricting; it doesn't chain you to one place or to each other.
