Joni Edelman

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.

You may have seen the acronym "HAES" floating around the Internet, and that is because the "Health At Every Size" movement has taken over THE WHOLE WORLD.

A weekly trip to Walmart would end in tears — first theirs, then mine. Them pining in the toy aisle. Me saying no. Over and over. It wasn’t so much that I wanted to buy my kids whatever they wanted, it was that I couldn’t.

New research suggests that brain inflammation occurring independent of a disease may be linked to depression. Could a "cure" be on the horizon?

In honor of World Bipolar Day, I present a sample stream of consciousness based on my experiences living with this disorder.

The FDA has approved a new drug for banishing double chins . . . it's ACID.

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.

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.

My decision to bed-share with my children despite potential SIDS risks has less to do with studies, and more to do with instinct.

So you fed your baby some formula instead of breast milk. His future is not shot. Really. It's not—and The Guilt serves no one.