I was minding my own business, tweezing my eyebrows using a high powered magnifying mirror, capable of lighting up the crevices of your aging face like floodlights used to interrogate Colombian drug kingpins during the Pablo Escobar era, when I saw it.
When I was nine-years old my mom went through a debilitating divorce from my stepdad and I moved in, permanently it would turn out, with
“The thing about being murdered,” writes William Langewiesche in this May’s issue of Vanity Fair, “it usually comes as a surprise.” The Same Can Be
“When I was pregnant, I was living in Guatemala city, carrying a glock 9mm (with a 32 round magazine) in my purse …
When I was a student abroad in 1986, I suffered an attempted rape. I was fortunate, after a protracted struggle, to escape my attacker. Intellectually, I understood that he had absolutely no right to do what he did to me …
Back in the car heading north on I-35, I sat sucker-punched. I hadn’t been called “slutty” since high school …
If you haven’t read Sebastion Junger’s latest piece in Vanity Fair, The Never-Ending War: The Bonds of Battle, you must.
We women can tell stories all goddamn day long about how we’ve been mistreated. I could tell you one from today. But I don’t know how much telling those stories will mean until we can get a goddamn grip on the word feminist.
There is a 50+ woman online who out-sexes me by a mile. I’m so thrilled to introduce you to Erica Jagger, a pseudonym evocative of
I didn’t realize when I woke up this morning, there was a price on my head. I rolled out of bed, after the kids and
Intimacy with strangers just happens to me. There was the gentleman confessor of an adulterous liaison on the flight back from Boulder and now
ALERT! ALERT! ALL PERI-MENOPAUSAL WOMEN BEWARE: In case you were thinking of accidentally forgetting to renew your antidepressants, and weren’t concerned about missing a few
7 a.m. Without my antidepressants, I awake and think: “I am born.” — (Charles Dickens, David Copperfield) I feel fine and fresh and new. I
Two Women’s Epic Journeys I consider myself a feminist. By that I mean, seeing traits that are still intrinsically considered feminine — compassion, empathy, the
It’s the moment every woman dreads. You’re lying flat on your back, your feet in stirrups and a doctor lady with cold fingers kneads your
This is what I did to prepare for my 30th high school reunion: 1. Over-indulge in wine coolers and nervous carbohydrate eating. 2. Gain 5
In considering the usual psychological tropes for why alumni don’t attend their high school reunions my research has come to this: (1)He feels too fat.
I’ve known Maggie since we were freshmen in high school. We’re now both married moms who don’t get to see much of each other because
(Warning: This post is inspired by that foul-mouthed Delta Gamma who threatened to “C&nt Punt” her sisters if they didn’t shape up. Turn away if
I know three women whose first sexual experience was date rape. Two of them were in high school at the time, and the last was
A few weeks ago, I talked with Neal Conan on NPR’s Talk of The Nation about my experience as the victim of an attempted date rape in 1986.
We just wrapped our first week of performing Expressing Motherhood to packed audiences. Thirteen moms address everything from adoption to nude photos, (who could that
I’ve been content for three days in a row. Well, I had one little shard of jealousy poke me. As I watched Girls last
This week I’m focusing on teen dating abuse. Yesterday I wrote about a former classmate who was murdered by her boyfriend after she broke
I’ve been planning my 30th high school reunion, searching high and low for class of 1983 graduates. This has brought up a lot of
© 2021 Copyright Shannon Bradley-Colleary. All Rights reserved.
