My friend Amy (see her oh-so telling Formerly moment, under the pot leaves no one would ever suspect her of smoking, right) reminded me of something I’ve been meaning to write about: How part of being a Formerly is how… Continue Reading →
INSLEE WROTE: What about that “they ruined it” feeling you get when you discover that your treasured, saved-money-up-for, big-ticket-handbag–the one that you finally purchased after waiting until was on markdown–is on the arm of most 13 year old girls at the mall! You are now forced to toss it aside, because you figure all who see you with it will assume you are trying to be one of them! THEY RUINED IT!
AMY WROTE: At the doctor today I got the usual question: Are you a smoker? But I wasn’t asked if I used recreational drugs…I’m not even worthy of being asked? “Oh her? She’s too tame/boring/staid to even think of drugs. Not worth wasting the time with that one.”
“Mommy, what are those?” Vivian, who is six, asked, her face just millimeters from mine. She was fixated on my nose. “What are what, honey?” “Those. Those round things.” That Japanese book, The Holes in Your Nose, about nostrils and… Continue Reading →
Of course I love my nephew Jonah, and of course I’m proud that he became a Bar Mitzvah yesterday. I’m not at all religious, but it’s a mondo gigantic deal if you are observant (and Jewish, of course), which his… Continue Reading →
Whaddaya know about that? Check this all out! Self Magazine‘s editors decided in the June 2009 issue that Formerly Hot is a blog they love! I have a piece in Redbook this month about turning 40 (which I did two… Continue Reading →
I never thought I’d be titling a post after a KC and the Sunshine Band song. Then again, I never thought I’d be a Formerly who has so little time that she showers only when she absolutely has to, either,… Continue Reading →
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I’m not old, really. How can 33 be old? That’s just coming into my true self, right?… but I miss my formerly hyper and silly self. I used to have an imaginary world called Freak City on my livejournal that I would write about for my family and friends full of silliness. Now my livejournal is just a paragraph every few days about something bothering me in my real life. When did I become so boring? And damn tired?
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