Gentle readers, none of us is getting any younger. It’s not exactly a sad truth—I don’t think my youth had all that much to recommend it besides higher energy levels and someone else paying the bills for the first 21 years—but it’s happening, and these days, as I enter my...
Recently I was at a dinner with a bunch of female friends. The five year old daughter of one friend had a birthday coming up, and was extremely excited about it. She kept rolling up on us guests and announcing: “I’m going to be six! How old are you?” We all dutifully reported our ages–which...
My latest from the Bed, Bitch and Beyond blog at Bitch Magazine, in which I commit a wee bit of feminist-on-memoir violence against The Virginia Monologues, Virginia Ironside’s nastily sex-negative new book about the “joys” of being a woman over 60.
Purty. Via srsalme @ Flickr.
What, that doesn’t sound fun?
The last time I got my hair cut, I realized that, at 34, I have my first grey hair. Hairs, rather. Two of them. Right on my hairline, just about an inch to the left of my widow’s peak. And they’re not actually grey,...
Some things never change. Via SarahMC
As of Sunday, I will no longer be in my “mid-twenties.” At 27, I’ll be living in my “late-twenties” stage, nearing closer to that arbitrary age at which women are supposed to be embarassed to admit when they were born.
I approach my...
We Harpies often discuss to the Old Harpy Home we’re planning for our golden years. It will be a villa, somewhere warm. PilgrimSoul will probably insist that it be on the ocean. There will be lotsa dogs and cats and books, plus many guest rooms so y’all can come visit. But there will not...