Final Stretch
I realized I was pregnant on my thirtieth birthday. I had been nauseous all week, and my boobs were as sore as they were when they sprouted in junior high school — a symptom I’d...
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Progress vs. Perfection
For whatever reason, it feels weird to admit that it’s taken me most of my life to-date to truly cultivate a sense of self love. It’s simply not something that comes natural to me. As the...
Read MoreAnd So It Goes
New Years celebrations, much like birthdays, are inevitable, provided you’re alive. If my Bubby Cyrille were still living, she’d insist that I qualify that statement with “G-d willing.” More major milestones were crammed into 2015 than I would have...
Read MoreThe Meatball: My Walk on the Wild Side
I haven’t really eaten meat in years. I’ve dabbled with the idea of becoming omnivorous again, but it’s never quite appealed to me. I went to the doctor a few weeks back, and was told...
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