Similar to a near-death experience, my dating life flashed before my eyes. This, I concluded, was my sexual rock bottom.
“Do not allow yourself to have any guilty pleasures even tangentially related to Miley Cyrus. You would be welcoming toxicity with open arms.”
Introducing the latest weekly feature: a line-up of life-hack links I’ve stumbled upon throughout the previous week that offer some really fresh wisdom (read: not-your-average Dr. Phil-ish guidance, but something new or unusual).
“I am a psychiatrist with little interest in what is wrong with people and a lot of interest in what is right with them. I care about the simple tweaks and changes that can make a difference. It’s usually the small things that remind us of the bigger picture.”
I’m not a big believer in idolatry, especially when it comes to the sphere of fashion. Many people are raised on platforms that have epic connotations–as if the ability to pair the right shirt with the right pant is a holy faculty given to the mere few.
The more you try on different hats, the easier it is to pinpoint what you like and don’t like, who you really are beyond the mirror.
Ever since the publication of The Feminine Mystique, American women have been haunted by the problem of more.
I realize that I can’t fault my favorite virtual venues for trying to cash in a bit on their popularity—after all making it in America is not as dreamy as we’d once hoped.