Joni Edelman

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.

Nutritionists have weighed in on what to order at McDonald's. Here's what I think you should get instead.

Can we just take a pause to consider all of the total fucking bullshit to which we subject ourselves?

Our relationship has been a little complicated. I've loved you a lot, and I've loathed you at least that much, but mostly you've just gone unnoticed. Except for those 5 to 7 days every four weeks when you made your presence quite evident, what with the river of life blood and the random excruciating, and from what I can tell, unnecessary, contractions.

Help. Me. Please. And by help me, I mean, bring me my jumbo size jar of

I am tired of taking medication. I am tired of relying on the manufactured versions of the chemicals and hormones my body could — should? — make for itself.

Chronic stress secretes a hormonal cocktail that wreaks havoc on that amazing body you have. Here's how you can chill your adrenals and reduce stress.

Body politics activist. Photographer. Chronic quoter of Monty Python. Unapologetic fat chick.

Attention Civilians: Colonel David Iverson does not want to see your boobs.

As a former Mormon, the Church's revelation that they're going to start “loving and accepting” the LGBT community makes me laugh. Hard.