Winona Dimeo-Ediger

Recently, I challenged myself to something radical: What if I didn't wear makeup for awhile?

Our resident aesthetic ace offers fashion advice to a "professorial punk femme."

Dear bikini manufacturers: Not all short, curvy women want to channel their inner Marilyn Monroe.

Listen, we all have "bills" to pay and "jobs" to do and "families" to spend quality time with, but I'm going to tell you something right now and I

Dear Winona,

You, dear senators, have been busy trying to bring about the apocalypse, which doesn’t leave a lot of time for self-care.

Winona,

"These days, I don’t shop at the mall very often, but every once in a while when I find myself at a mall — any — I’m overcome by a wave of nostalgia for my salad days (although perhaps “Sbarro calzone days” would be a more fitting expression here). In many ways, I grew up in these chain stores and pretzel kiosks. And sometimes I feel compelled to write melodramatic poetry about it."

I’d been so busy patting myself on the back for conquering my big fears, I failed to acknowledge that the types of things that scare me had shifted. A lot of the obvious stuff didn’t bother me anymore — but what about all the smaller, more personal things that still scared the living shit out of me?

In light of the news that the GOP’s Affordable Care Act replacement