Winona Dimeo-Ediger

I call this happiness by proxy

Instagram: Don’t eat it though, just hold it. With a stiff, outstretched arm in front of a whimsical mural on a decaying brick wall.

All the skimpy clothes that come along with this time of year give me anxiety.

I regularly call upon personal saints for help. Really specific ones whose sainthood only exists in my own mind, but they’re very effective. Today I’d like to introduce you to a few of them; feel free to call on them as often as needed.

When it comes to hiring people, be sure to steer clear of anyone who has a customer service background and glowing recommendations. The last thing you want is a perky, friendly face to greet your customers. So predictable!

"While ample cleavage comes in handy for filling out sundresses and storing cracker crumbs for later, it presents a professional dressing challenge that’s annoying and a little unfair ... "

F*ck that noise. Wear a bikini if you want. Or wear a one-piece if you want. Or wear a baggy t-shirt from a Def Leppard concert and knee-length bike shorts if you want. Wear whatever you want. But definitely go to the beach.

You, dear senators, have been busy trying to bring about the apocalypse, which doesn’t leave a lot of time for self-care.

The other day I met up with my friend Paige at a coffee shop. She went to the bathroom, came back, and said, “So, the toilet paper roll was empty, and I almost didn’t put a new roll on, but then I thought, ‘Be the change you want to see in the world,’ and I changed it.” She beamed triumphantly, and I said, “Paige, you’re a hero.”

I'm all about body positivity practices that require self reflection a