Gemma Hartley

But I was yet to face the cold, hard fact that my lack of acceptance for my own body, was really a lack of acceptance for all the bodies I had falsely embraced for so long. Could I really love someone else’s ample stomach, when I could not love my own?

Last week, the internet went into an understandable uproar when a Christian woman decided to take to Facebook to talk about how she is

When I made the decision to become a stay-at-home mother, the choice was an easy one.

The real reason I’m worried about sending my kids to school is that I’m going to be alone. For the first time in nearly a decade. And that’s scary.

It wasn’t the name I would have picked — not originally, at least — but as days turned into weeks, it grew on me.

Minimalism is great in concept, especially when you’re looking at someone else’s well-curated life. Declutter, simplify, own only things that bring you joy. This is all well and good for the twenty-something living in a one bedroom apartment, beholden to no one. When you’re a parent, however, minimalism gets a lot more complicated.

Clearly, it does not take long for my over-ambition to turn me from a vision of perfection into a train wreck you can't look away from. Behold, my first week of school splendor, versus my second week of school ineptitude.

Feminism should empower all girls — not just those who buck the system. Do I have my preference for what I would like her to do? Yes, but what I envision for her isn’t as important as what brings her joy and helps her find fulfillment.

Like many progressives, the early days of Trump's presidency have left me angry, exhausted, and fighting with strangers on Facebook.

My mother called me the morning after the