Joni Edelman

The FDA has approved a new drug for banishing double chins . . . it's ACID.

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

When I heard about accusations that Lena sexually abused her sister, I was astonished. And my visceral emotional reaction prompted powerful questions.

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

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

I'll never forget the day I discovered the name for my mental illness.

Actually, no, I'm not a gluttonous moron.

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.

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