Erin McKelle

This year I’m going into the holiday season with a self-care game plan, so that I’ll be ready when the holiday blues come around. I think that probably more people get the holiday blues than you would think, since this isn’t an issue that’s often talked about openly.

I propose going back to basics, back to what self-care is supposed to be about. Instead of this new flashy and expensive self-care movement.

Imagine you just went out with someone that you like, and have been out with a few times, but that you’re still not quite sure where things are heading with. Now, imagine that they call you to ask you if you would like to join them at a birthday party on Saturday, for one of their good friends whom they’d like you to meet. What’s your reaction? Are you jumping at the chance to get closer to their inner circle, already preparing your excuse for why you can’t attend, or do you land somewhere in between?

I know it’s a lot more complicated than just one day declaring, “Fuck it, I’m done dieting!” Just like we can easily make resolutions for ourselves to lose weight, we can just as easily resolve to love our bodies as they are, and quietly fall flat on our goal.

I decided to experiment. I would set my alarm and get up at 6 AM (or earlier) for seven days straight, no matter what.

One reality TV franchise people often point to when talking about misogyny in the media is The Real Housewives. However, I believe that many aspects of The Real Housewives make it a feminist franchise.

I’m adopted. It’s one of those things that has been a major force in shaping my identity, but that’s hard to talk about authentically almost anywhere.

Just like you might find it difficult to fly while fat, going to the gym can also be a terrible experience to endure while fat. This is one of my favorite points to make when people justify their fatphobia with “I’m just concerned about their health.”

I’ve decided to give up any sort of permanent living space in favor of using my money to travel and see the world. The only things I have with me are the things I can literally carry on my back, which includes my purse, a carry-on bag, and two suitcases.

There’s nothing worse than taking a pregnancy test when you don’t want to be pregnant.

It’s especially bad when you don’t know who the father is.

Last year, this is the exact situation I found myself in: 23, single, not on contraception, and with a late period. I was nothing short of panicked.

After finding the least expensive test that CVS carried (by the way, can we talk about how expensive pregnancy tests are?!), I went home to find out my fate. After locking myself in the bathroom, I turned the shower on to drown out the noise of my thoughts. I waited five minutes and then peered at the stick, leaning as far away from the sink as possible in case it showed two lines.

I breathed a sigh of relief as I saw one clear line on the screen.

I quickly tossed the test in the trash, turned off the shower, and hopped in bed with a bottle of cabernet.