Joni Edelman

I didn't get a lot of mothering as a child, but when I did, it was from her. She taught me how to sew, how to crochet. She taught me how to stand up for myself, to be tough. She taught me how to make fried chicken and fried okra, which I will never make, because it's fucking gross.

My cocktail is wrong. It’s a gin and tonic with only gin. It’s a martini with 10 olives. And I can’t stand the sun. Not today. Not this month.

My husband and I recently traveled together without our kids for the first time . . . in a while. And it was a brand-new ball game.

Now that I've embarked upon the decade I once considered "old," there are a few things I'd like my 20 (and 30) year-old self to know.

As a celebration of the Ravishly community, we welcome you to #RavsReaders, a weekly feature where we'll spotlight one of our beloved readers.

New research suggests that brain inflammation occurring independent of a disease may be linked to depression. Could a "cure" be on the horizon?

This is an article about a real product that exists, that was designed to deliver an electric shock, to YOUR BODY, to stop you from eati

I’m lucky to be smart, to have an astonishingly good memory. Or maybe I’m lucky to be bipolar.

It doesn’t get any more difficult to insult ourselves, regardless of how old we are. It would be ideal if it got easier to respect ourselves, but it generally doesn’t do that either. Every year you age, and every year the aging you looks at the you of the years before and thinks, I can’t believe I thought I was fat/ugly/etc.

I am tired of taking medication. I am tired of relying on the manufactured versions of the chemicals and hormones my body could — should? — make for itself.