Dust off your crown

“Your crown has been bought and paid for. Put it on your head and wear it.” –Maya Angelou I don’t know whether I want to shake them or hug them. Lately, I’ve been bombarded on social media—Facebook, Twitter, YouTube—with images of women who look like they’re trying too hard to be supple and youthful. The…

Sophie’s Choice in the dermatology office

My dermatologist makes me laugh with the same question whenever I bemoan my weight and aging: “Ass or face? Make a choice, Kristine.” Allow me to explain. The sign above her desk shows two words: “ass” and “face.” When “face” has a smiley face below it, “ass” has a frowney face. And vice versa. Meaning–a…

I’ve been Goop’d

I have fought the good fight. But, despite my best intentions, I have been Goop’d. Baptized into the fold. For the uninitiated among you, Goop was begun by actress Gwyneth Paltrow. It is a lifestyle site, where Gwyneth and her team share their insights and finds on just about everything, from recipes to skincare to…

Worth it

When did we decide that we were not worth it? When did we begin to tell ourselves the choices that bring us joy were too expensive/impractical/self-indulgent? I remember, as a young girl, asking for a $20 calendar for my birthday. My mother told me it would be “shameful” to spend $20 on a calendar, that something so…

Not a beauty pageant

I’ve tried so hard. Tried so hard not to bring politics into my blog, my tweets, discussions at dinner parties. Usually, it’s not so difficult, really. I have no illusions about why people read my blog. It’s not for my political savvy. I’ve always, frankly, wondered at those who post their political views on Facebook,…

Hope on a balcony

I am moved by many things. Sunrise over mountains. A hummingbird in the woods. My children’s belly laughs. But nothing moves me quite as much as hope. In today’s cynical world, to hope is to be mocked on some fronts. Or to be disdained, dismissed as less sophisticated than your jaded peers. When I tear…

Praying for beautiful

I lay in my bed and prayed: “God, please make me beautiful.” Of all the things I could have prayed for, this now strikes me as a sad choice. I was a skinny, bony, pale pre-adolescent. Puberty had already struck half of the girls in my class, while I still looked like a tiny beanpole,…

Here cometh the mojo master

He. Makes. Me. Feel. Fabulous. And he’s gay, so not in the way you might think. I’m talking about my old grad school buddy, Andrew. Everybody needs an Andrew. I’ve previously written about Patrick, my fairy godmother when I first moved to Chicago as a twenty-something.  Patrick took me from Ohio college grad to sophisticated…

Bibbidi bobbidi boo

My fairy godmother was a queen. Named Patrick. Every woman needs a fairy godmother. Cinderella had it going on, man. The perfect ‘do, that figure-flattering gown with glass slippers adding just a touch of trendy—enough to ratchet the whole ensemble up a notch. You really think she could have pulled that off by herself? I…