Winona Dimeo-Ediger

Old friends make it possible to conduct entire conversations in inside jokes, like a secret code you’ve taken 15 years to hone.

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.

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.

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.

"I’ve been on three rollercoasters in my life. I hated every second of all of them."

Will you ever find a chair you like? Are there any good chairs left in this world? Why are so many people in your neighborhood attempting to sell “lightly used” sex chairs? What is a sex chair?

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.

One of the best things that happened when I downsized my wardrobe was that I finally felt like my clothes were working for me, not vice versa. I wasn’t constantly stressed about the mess in my bedroom from clothes that didn’t fit in the dresser. I no longer had daily freakouts about what to wear while staring at an overstuffed closet. I had a nice selection of clothes that served me well.

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.

Basically, if you took a map of the world and put red pushpins wherever something terrible was happening, you’d find a millennial directly in the center, snapchatting.