Joni Edelman

It doesn’t get any more difficult to insult ourselves, regardless of how old we are. It would be ideal if it got easier to respect ourselves, but it generally doesn’t do that either. Every year you age, and every year the aging you looks at the you of the years before and thinks, I can’t believe I thought I was fat/ugly/etc.

When I was little, any time I got an insect bite or stubbed my toe, I had to ask my mom, “Am I going to die? If I was going to die from this, I’d already be dead — right?” I also had a 30-minute prayer that I needed to say at each meal or else everyone would be poisoned and die. And corners. I had to check all of them before I went to bed.

...I’m going to help you! By “help” I mean “tell you all the things that didn’t work.”

Misogyny is pervasive. And my three boys are living it all.

91% of women report dissatisfaction with their body. Ninety-one. I know you know math—that’s 9/10 of women.

How do I raise a boy to love and respect all women regardless of size in a world where he is bombarded with images of what is attractive?

What to really expect when you're expecting.

In today's HELLO, OBVIOUSLY news: National Coffee Day.

Brangelina are splitting up. A sad day for them, a joyful day for single ladies everywhere.

Compassion for myself is not a thing I do. It is not a thing I have ever done. It is not a thing I feel comfortable doing. It's time I stop for compassion.