The women, all creatives, make the 15-23 dollars an hour. The men, all in finance, all make six figure salaries and bonuses 10 times larger than any amount the women have had in our bank accounts at any given time. The men live in luxury apartments in Midtown. The women live in Williamsburg, Park Slope, and Harlem, respectively. The men wear suits and ties and $600 shoes to work. The women wear joggers, the new Reebok nano weaves, and Lulu sports bras and sports shirts. The men pay for their own flights home. The women do not. The men travel to Colorado, Jamaica, California, and Aruba.
I remember your story, how you came into your sexuality to the tune of puberty and your body raced to the pulse of desire and came for the urgency of speed. How full of arrogance, shame, anxiety, need, and joy you were, but mostly of love and the chase of it. Thinking of it now, I drench the keyboard and take a step back to remember the bad poetry you wrote to the teenage love and think nostalgically about the innocent obsession in Sixteen year old self, wine-drunk and desperate, how I wish the happier me I am to you, then. How I wish to go back and impart the lessons you are (I am) still lear
There is a further out than outside of the closet, though I cannot say I am even that in every instance. Is gay something I do or something I am? I ask this with nobody kissing me. I want the possibility of being drenched, surprised by my own desire. Does this matter to my writing?
Writing about fitness and health for companies based out of the city of go-go-go has its perks. Think: occasional free workout classes, sweat-gear, and a chance to talk to the latest and greatest trainers, athletes, and obstacle course racers. While it’d be untrue to say it’s my favorite part of my job, because TBH the writing itself is my favorite part of my job, I do love sliding into a pair of not-yet-launched-leggings, saddling up for a new-to-me HIIT-class, and finding my power one burpee, pushup, and wall-ball at a time.
It feels like just yesterday I moved my tassel to the right and thought, “Now What?”. To call graduation the most anticlimactic moment of my life would be a bold understatement. But for a time displayed cinematically as a beautiful experience ripe with appreciation, gratitude, nostalgia, and power, in reality is (also) deeply replete with anxiety, the unknown, and nervous anticipation.
We may be hesitant to admit it, but our morning habits help define part (and reveal part) of our personalities. Whether we’re waking up at 5am to catch up on emailings, applying face masks with the sun rise, or hitting snooze one too many times and rushing to the subway, what we do in the morning is, for better or worse, quite telling. Think about it… the person who meditates every morning is probably the same person who drinks Kombucha instead of coffee, has nailed the art of the matcha almond-milk latte, and loves gramming about the benefits of yoga for the digestive tract. Meanwhile, the serial snoozer (the one who ignores her alarm until she’s got less than 15 minutes to shower, pick out an outfit for the day, and brew coffee in a to-go cup, and find her keys before heading out the door in a frenzy) is likely the same person who just never seems to have enough time or energy for her hefty to-do list.
I hit the gym in just a sports bra for the first time… and didn’t hate it. I know, I know. It’s ironic really, I’ll gladly post flex-pics in the ladies locker room post-sweat in just a sports bra and leggings, or will remove my shirt for an after-CrossFit photo-shoot. But there's something about a 50+ year old man grunting in your direction in the weight-room while he hammers out some bicep curls with bad form that can feel a little, well, unnerving… if you’ve ever been the only girl in the weight room, you know what I’m talking about.
The dictionary defines mantra as: A word or formula chanted or sung as an incantation or prayer. I define mantra as a kick in the butt, that push that lifts you up that hill when you’re at your last breath, the fight that gets you up out of bed on a cold morning, or phrase that helps you stay calm when stress or anxiety threaten to take hold.
I have so many self-help books lining my shelves (and stacked on my nightstand), I could build myself a cozy cottage out of the paper and bindings and live in it happily ever after.
As I set out to make my life in New York the happiest that it could be, I decided to become what can only be described as “a student of hygge”. After a month of studying hygge, I am by no means a master, but I have incorporated some of my learnings into my everyday practices. Here, I bring you the tips and tricks to your life hygge every day.
As Winter transitioned into Spring, I made the conscious effort to Spring Clean my life by focusing a new and higher level of energy towards a whole-body, whole-mind, whole-soul healthy lifestyle. Some of the things I did to cleanse my life were a return to the patterns and routines that I used to use to find happiness, however, others required becoming a student and being open to new practices. Here, I share the 6 things I have implemented over the last four weeks to increase the joy in my everyday life
While my friend’s glowing recommendation of CrossFit could not convince my stubborn, happy-with-weightlifting-alone self to try it, watching a workout could.
Is the equation as simple as more exercise= more sex? Sort of. But there’s a scientific reason for it.