Michaela Mitchell

I don't know if it's because I've lived in the deep South my entire life or if it's a generational thing. I do know that I was raised to “act like a lady” — always. Good girls didn't say certain things or look a certain way. We didn't raise our voices or argue with authority figures, and we apologized – a lot.

Ah, January of a new year. Time to wake up a completely different person from the woman I was in 2015, including: 30 pounds lighter by February! I call bullshit.

I admit it. I have a resting bitch face. Yes, I've been told I'm intimidating. And yes, I've heard “What's wrong?” when I'm randomly existing somewhere. I'm used to people misinterpreting my facial expression and moods.

Ever hear the phrase, “We were poor growing up, but I didn't know it?” It was a common refrain in my family. When my mother and aunt speak about those days, they wax poetically about tomato sandwiches and bread with every meal (meant to fill an empty stomach when there wasn't enough food).

I make no secret that I prefer older men. The way they handle themselves in a relationship is important, but there are things older men do better in bed!

During the darkest moments after my split with my husband and then divorce, when I thought life would never get better, and I kicked myself for thinking I could be on my own, it was music that got me through.

Several months ago I read a piece from a mother who was so over people comparing raising kids to taking care of their “furbabies.” The annoyance and eye rolls practically leapt off the page.

God forbid a single group, like fast-food workers, attempt to unite and fight for a better living wage. The moment they do, stories about more deserving groups who don't complain about their income are thrown about.

If someone you care about is suffering through the pain of first holidays without someone they love, there are things you can do.

Ok, for the record, he's in kindergarten, and for his age, it did not suck. It was a masterpiece of little boy seriousness and hard work, actually. (Of course, I might be biased.)