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.

By baby three, well let’s just say things are a little anticlimactic, at least where furnishings are concerned. Hand me down crib. Check.

Compassion for myself is not a thing I do. It is not a thing I have ever done. It is not a thing I feel comfortable doing. It's time I stop for compassion.

You should know that she is a really awesome human.

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.

91% of women report dissatisfaction with their body. Ninety-one. I know you know math—that’s 9/10 of women.

When I had my first child, I couldn't have prepared for the way it would make me feel.

As a stay-at-home mom, I've made plenty of sacrifices. Where are my accolades?

I was told that feminism is man hate. That abortion is murder. And then I thought, "What am I doing here?"

I don’t think of myself as fat. Not inside, anyway.