Joni Edelman

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?

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.

More and more programs are offering services to help companies support and retain women during their maternity transition.

By baby three, well let’s just say things are a little anticlimactic, at least where furnishings are concerned. Hand me down crib. Check.

I didn't get a lot of mothering as a child, but when I did, it was from her. She taught me how to sew, how to crochet. She taught me how to stand up for myself, to be tough. She taught me how to make fried chicken and fried okra, which I will never make, because it's fucking gross.

I said (on TV, to Rachael Ray, so there are a few million witnesses): If you want a bikini body, put a bikini on your body.

Welcome to #RavsWriters, an opportunity for you to get to know some of the outstanding human beings who fervently type to make Ravishly the aw

My cocktail is wrong. It’s a gin and tonic with only gin. It’s a martini with 10 olives. And I can’t stand the sun. Not today. Not this month.

It's always so good to know the folks doing the work you're doing.

Suffering is America’s favorite thing to do. We starve ourselves to lose weight, and we’re a success story. We don’t sleep, and we’re just getting SO MUCH DONE. We do a thousand things a day and involve our kids in a thousand activities, because somehow, in some perverted way, that makes us successful.