Winona Dimeo-Ediger

The side effects of weight loss are not—gasp!—all positive.

The other day I met up with my friend Paige at a coffee shop. She went to the bathroom, came back, and said, “So, the toilet paper roll was empty, and I almost didn’t put a new roll on, but then I thought, ‘Be the change you want to see in the world,’ and I changed it.” She beamed triumphantly, and I said, “Paige, you’re a hero.”

I’ve always hated shopping for dresses in general (I’m seriously supposed to track down one garment that fits properly on my chest, waist, arms, and hips simultaneously?), and finding the right thing to wear to a wedding is always tricky (do they really mean casual?).

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.

It can be difficult to describe the pervasiveness of sexual harassment to people who don’t experience it firsthand.

You, dear senators, have been busy trying to bring about the apocalypse, which doesn’t leave a lot of time for self-care.

This woman has serious swagger. It’s a slightly more subtle swagger than, say, Snoop Lion, but it’s there: in the nonchalant flick of her wrist while tossing garlic cloves into a food processor; in her decision to throw a spontaneous formal garden party just because she made a frittata, and in her firm pronouncements to use only “good” ingredients — without ever defining what that means.

The hardest thing about transitioning to an in-office job after working from home for a long time? Not being able to tell your boss, “I’m gonna take a quick shower to clear my head” after a stressful team meeting.

Stage one: annoyance. Stage five: obsession!

You’re washing dishes or sorting laundry or grocery shopping, half-listening to a random Pandora station when it happens: Your favorite song from 7th grade starts playing.