The Legs are The Last to Go One day last summer I was walking into the grocery store in shorts when a young man ahead of me looked over his shoulder and gave me the once-over. He started at my feet and looked interested, then quizzical, then somewhat abashed as his gaze travelled from conventionally attractive legs to round middle to my almost-seventy-year-old face. At that point he turned and scurried through the door. I
Inspiring the Boomers Podcast It was March 19, 2020, and I was driving home after spending the spring break vacation with my son and his family in Panama City Beach. It was a strange vacation. We were all aware of the rapid spread of the Corona virus, yet there was so little information. My son scolded me every time I touched my face. We didn’t know if we should mask to go pick up groceries
The New Improved Pink Tax Much has been written about the Pink Tax, which, despite the name, is not an actual tax. It refers to the practice of charging more for products intended for sale to women, where an almost identical product for men costs less. The same manufacturer may charge more for a pink razor than a blue one. A women’s blouse will often be more expensive than a similar men’s shirt. A salon
Better Late: A Neurodiverse Love Story “I deserve so much better,” I whisper into my husband’s ear as we embrace in the kitchen. Alex’s barrel chest and round belly press against me. “Yesterday you left me waiting for you at the restaurant,” I remind him. “That’s not okay. You can’t do that.” I’d waited for an hour before giving up and eating alone. He texted me later with an offhand “Sorry, I got caught up
Get Out Your TugBoat In 1971, Erica Jong interviewed the legendary Anais Nin, who was then in her sixties. Jong asked Nin why she allowed her publisher to cut the sex out of her diaries. “Women who write about sex are never taken seriously as writers,” said Nin. “That’s exactly why we must do it,” said Jong. That year I was a freshman, studying writing at a top liberal arts college. My writing teachers were
An Open Letter to the New York Times Dear New York Times: I now live several states away and read your paper on a screen. Still, the daily experience of reading the Times brings me back to the 1970s: to mornings in Brooklyn with a poppyseed bagel in one hand and a newspaper in the other. Ever since, throughout the events of my lifetime, public and private, the Times has been my trusted companion. And
