Suzannah Weiss

Women — and everyone, for that matter — I invite you to join me in a new game. Instead of stooping down to sympathize when someone strays from societal body ideals, and instead of bringing others down with us when we're struggling with body image ourselves, let's all lift one another up by declaring that there's nothing wrong with what we've just eaten, how we look in a bathing suit, or what size pants we’re wearing.

At age 25, I'm hardly an adult. But boy am I grown up compared to who I was in college. If I could go back in time, I'd have quite a few things to tell my former self, and save a lot of stress, time, and energy.

Ever since I was a kid myself, I’ve held the conviction that I didn’t want kids. I found baby dolls creepy and real-life babies irritating. Whenever I told my parents this, they’d say, “You’ll change your mind.” But at age 25, I still haven’t.

Pham’s company, MOGUL, is run by women and for women, and has a profound social mission.

When people picture an eating disorder, they often imagine shocking behaviors that deviate wildly from normal eating. But our society’s definition of “normal,” especially for women, can look so similar to an eating disorder that it’s hard to tell when you’ve crossed the line between healthy and disordered eating. That's why, by following popular health advice, I became anorexic without even knowing it.

The more conversations I have with fellow millennials, the more I realize we’re all going through similar growing pains. Professionally, we’re often struggling either to find our niche or to advance in the careers we’ve settled on. Socially, our friendships are in flux, with people constantly moving around and revising their values. And romantically, many of us still have nothing to report while we watch one friend after another pair up.

On the interview room’s cozy couch, Ellie (AKA Elliphant) sounded off on the absurdity of American gender roles, how humans are like giraffes, and her past life as a dude resembling Mowgli from The Jungle Book. No, really.

“Don’t make yourself feel good by calling us survivors.”

When the police arrested Wendy Barnes's pimp, it appeared as if she were free at last, she recalls during our phone interview. “Maybe this nightmare ends,” she thought. But that's when they handcuffed her, brought her to the station, and charged her with the exact same crime: prostitution.

Best of all? She's just getting started.