Joni Edelman

I'll never forget the day I discovered the name for my mental illness.

If you're brave enough to take the DIY Brazilian plunge, these tips are a must-read. As in, tip #6: It hurts, but not more than having a baby. Good to know.

I want my kids to have an understanding of the truth of sex, the ins, the outs, the details no one wants to ask anyone—least of all their mom.

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.

The argument against homeschooling is always the same: “Kids need to socialize.”

If you decide pit or leg hair isn't a big deal, then bam! It's not a big deal.

When I heard about accusations that Lena sexually abused her sister, I was astonished. And my visceral emotional reaction prompted powerful questions.

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

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.

Good god, where will I ever find someone who will love me in such a pitiful condition?