A wellness-humorist. Yeah, that's a thing. All thoughts, words, pictures, and diseases are my own.
Amy Cuddy, author of national bestseller, “Presence,” has my attention. And she has it good. I’m rivetted, I think, because I read her book—aforementioned—and then I watched her TED talk presentation right after. Both were great. And she is attractive. That’s not chauvinistic or demeaning, either; also not fodder for people who love to be
(#NationalRunningDay was last week. Apologies for a delayed, hashtag irrelevant post. My mom was trying to log into my Netflix account to watch Madmen but couldn’t figure it out. She needed my help, so I was late getting the post up.) Whenever a hashtag is involved, and something is trending on Twitter, it
A pained resignation, audible as a sigh, was all I got. Nancy was over it. When my mom found out about my tattoo—pretty substantially placed on the right arm and shoulder—I anticipated some fireworks. I anticipated them, and, really, kind of wanted them. But I didn’t get any. My name wasn’t removed from any will
