Essays

Today’s essay was written by guest contributor, Dennis Hong.

A few weeks ago, Wendy responded to a letter from a woman who was disgusted by her current boyfriend. As she put it, “He is grossly hairy EVERYWHERE, he is poorly educated, lacks common sense, is extremely clingy and he has halitosis.” Further complicating the situation was the fact that this woman was still in love with her ex.

Wendy’s advice was not to tell the current boyfriend how much he grossed her out and instead focus on the part about her not being over her ex. Pretty much everyone agreed with this advice. I mean, it’s the tactful and compassionate thing to do, right? He’s already going to be crushed. No reason to bludgeon him after reducing him to a whimpering pulp.

But then, over the next few days, I kept thinking back to this letter. And I kept wanting to put myself in the stinky boyfriend’s stinky shoes: [Click to continue]

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by Wendy on October 31, 2012 · in Essays,Getting Personal,Guest Column

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It’s October and I’m in my mid-30s, which can only mean one thing: my Facebook newsfeed is suddenly clogged with an astounding number of family photos taken in pumpkin patches. Some time in the last five years or so about 89% of everyone I have ever met in my life, from pre-school to prenatal yoga class, has popped out a kid or two, myself included. And this time of year it seems that 99% of all those people are strapping their babies into their car seats and heading out to the nearest pumpkin patch for an afternoon of… I’m not sure what. What goes on at the pumpkin patch? From the looks of these photos, it seems like you sit in a field and … take pictures? And then maybe pick out a pumpkin and take it home and carve it? I’ve heard that sometimes there are pony rides and petting zoos and hot apple cider, but so far I have not seen photographic evidence of this. It all sounds sort of mythical if you ask me.

I didn’t grow up in the states and didn’t have a child until last year, so my understanding of American kid culture, especially of the seasonal variety, is still a little spotty. Have pumpkin patches always been a Thing? Or has the advent of Facebook and the search for adorable photo opportunities made it so? Because, I will admit: people all dressed up in their fall attire with their babies in pumpkin patches look fucking adorable, they do. But beyond the photo opp, I don’t understand the activity. But I also don’t really understand apple-picking either and I’m know I’m a freak in that regard too. Who doesn’t get excited about picking apples?! (I don’t. You pick apples from trees? And then you take them home and eat them? So … it’s sort of like grocery shopping, only it’s just the one item you’re getting? But it’s fun because you’re outside? Why not just go to the park and then go grocery shopping on your way home?). [Click to continue]

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by Wendy on October 23, 2012 · in Essays,It's Personal,Parenthood

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An article entitled, “Mom Stays in the Picture,” is touching nerves over at Huffington Post. In it, the author, mother to a five-year-old and an infant, talks about how, as a woman whose body has changed so much through motherhood — the months of pregnancy, giving birth, the sleepless nights, the exhausting days — she’s hesitant to document this time in her life with photographic evidence of herself looking less than her best. But then she thinks about how her children, years from now, will want — will need — to see pictures of their younger selves with their mama. They won’t see her unwashed hair or bags under the eyes — or, if they do, what they’ll hopefully notice more is the love, the happiness shining through even the deepest exhaustion.

My son, Jackson, turns one in just a few days (we had an early birthday celebration for him over the weekend). These last couple of weeks have been a time of reflection for me. Finally, after many months of finding my footing — and falling a lot, metaphorically speaking — I’m feeling like myself again. I think I’m starting to look like myself again, too. I’ll never look as young as I did even two years ago before I got pregnant, though. Motherhood has aged me and will continue to age me faster than, well, not being a mother. I’ve lost many hours of sleep in this last year (and in the final months of pregnancy preceding Jack’s birth). My body changed, most likely for good. I’ve lost all of the baby weight I gained, but I have a feeling I’ll never lose the “mother’s pooch” I now sport just below my belly button, a souvenir from those months I carried my baby inside my body while he grew big enough and strong enough to take on the outside world.

But if this is my mom look, I’m OK with it. I don’t love looking in the mirror and I HATE trying on new clothes — or old clothes, for that matter (there may or may not have been crying in the dressing room the last time I went shopping and tried to squeeze into dresses that I’m sure would have fit me just a couple years ago). But when I look at photos of myself with Jackson, with my husband, Drew, and with other people I care about, I see love and I see happiness shining through the exhaustion. I see a fuller face, too, and sometimes puffy eyes and bangs that need trimming. But those aren’t the things I notice the most. [Click to continue]

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by Wendy on October 4, 2012 · in Essays,It's Personal,Parenthood

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Today’s essay is written by guest contributor, Gauri, an engineering graduate student in Los Angeles.

I decided I had nothing to lose. My family had known his for over two decades. He’d graduated from prestigious schools and was doing well career-wise. We both hailed from the same community, and had had a similar upbringing in the same hometown. And from the pictures I’d seen of him, he was tall and extremely attractive. The only apparent catch was that he lived over six hours away from the city I had just moved to for graduate school. He was given my email, and wrote to me after our parents had discussed setting us up with the intention of marriage. [Click to continue]

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by Wendy on October 3, 2012 · in Essays,Getting Personal,Guest Column,weddings

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The following essay is from guest contributor Melissa Amen, who blogs at “Twisted Words.”

I get two emails from my grandmother every year – one in July for my birthday and one in December for Christmas. I don’t even have to read them anymore because it’s been the same thing for the last four years: “Happy Birthday!/Merry Christmas! Are you and John engaged yet?” Actually, this year on my birthday she mixed it up a bit and posed a question I couldn’t simply respond ‘no’ to: “Are there any plans (wedding!) for the future?” [Click to continue]

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by Wendy on September 19, 2012 · in Essays,Getting Personal,Guest Column

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