Winona Dimeo-Ediger

F*ck that noise. Wear a bikini if you want. Or wear a one-piece if you want. Or wear a baggy t-shirt from a Def Leppard concert and knee-length bike shorts if you want. Wear whatever you want. But definitely go to the beach.

How does that old cliché go? “Love is not a noun, it’s a verb”? Loving your body is a verb. It’s an action — and in many ways it’s a sacred and defiant one.

For example, if you’re having gastrointenstinal distress, resist the urge to hashtag it with something generic like #diarrheacramps. Instead, include your first and last name and the date to make it your own: #LynnSmithDiarrheaCrampsFebruary2016.

Career-wise, you’re the boss, or, if you’re not the boss yet (emphasis on YET), you’re the boss’s dream, going above and beyond in every way. You tend to define yourself by your job title, and the thought of letting go of that identity gives you hives (this might be something you want to work on, Group A). Your desk is so beautifully organized it could be part of a MOMA exhibit called, “The Artful Workspace: A Retrospective.”

You’re washing dishes or sorting laundry or grocery shopping, half-listening to a random Pandora station when it happens: Your favorite song from 7th grade starts playing.

As we prepare to take to the streets to protest the inauguration of a racist, sexist, xenophobic demagogue, we need to LOOK GOOD doing it.

Make a u-turn into the darkest recesses of your psyche. Wonder about your life purpose: Were you put on earth to stare at computer screens and pay bills and die? Cringe while imagining what your idealistic college self would think of you now. Conclude that your life lacks creativity and meaning and simple joys.

If the weather has you cooped up with your partner, here's how to cope and bond instead of snap and split.

All the skimpy clothes that come along with this time of year give me anxiety.

Here's what I want to ask the guy who used this airplane bathroom right before me:

1. Dude, seriously?