Winona Dimeo-Ediger

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

Stage one: annoyance. Stage five: obsession!

I regularly call upon personal saints for help. Really specific ones whose sainthood only exists in my own mind, but they’re very effective. Today I’d like to introduce you to a few of them; feel free to call on them as often as needed.

Clothes can be altered. Clothes can be sold. Clothes can be swapped with friends. In the meantime, you have to get dressed every day, and you might as well love the clothes you have right now.

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.

Instagram: Don’t eat it though, just hold it. With a stiff, outstretched arm in front of a whimsical mural on a decaying brick wall.

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.

In 1897, a little girl named Virginia O’Hanlon wrote a letter to the editor of the Sun, asking if there was a Santa Claus.

It seems like as soon as normal, civilized people set foot on an airplane, they forget all manners, decency, and social skills. And the person who takes the brunt of this bad behavior? Whoever they’re sitting next to. So let’s go over some basic dos and don’ts for being a good airplane seatmate, shall we?

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