Originally published on Huffington Post. And the Oscar goes to… Drumroll, please… Ego! There seemed to be a dominant thread weaving itself through all the male gynecologists I had the pleasure of visiting in the last three months, but I was stumped as to what it was. Impatience? Boredom? Self-importance? Repetitive motion syndrome? Lack of empathy? No compassion? Disinterest? Inability to listen? Disdain for all things “natural” no matter how reasonable? And then it finally dawned on me. Yes! Ego! Read More…

Originally published on Huffington Post. Shame and Anger were having lunch one day at a restaurant of Shame’s choosing. They often hung out together because they had so much in common: feelings of helplessness, despair, guilt, confusion and a belief that true happiness is beyond reach. Acquaintances didn’t understand the friendship because Shame seemed so weak and pathetic, while Anger, though aggressive and unpleasant, enjoyed a reputation for toughness, grittiness and a refusal to accept life’s unfair lessons. Anger seemed Read More…

Originally published on Huffington Post. “Foolish, foolish heart, you’ve been wrong before, don’t be wrong anymore…” Remember that Steve Perry song? I so related to it in my 20s. Um, actually, I meant my teens! Okay, I admit it. My foolish heart fell prey to the bad boy syndrome far too long, although I was lucky — some women never escape it. You know what I’m talking about, right? That passionate surrender to the siren call of someone who really Read More…

“… there are occasional prostitutes, and sometimes they’re top models who try to make ends meet. They aren’t miserable women on the sidewalk.” That’s a quote from a guy named Hubert Delarue, a lawyer for one of the men allegedly involved in the prostitution ring that catered to the sex parties attended by alleged rapist and former French International Monetary Fund (IMF) chief Dominique Strauss-Kahn, or DSK if you prefer using his sexier-sounding initials; you know, like OJ. This casual Read More…

Mitt may not remember me but I remember him like it was yesterday. I’ve been married nearly 25 years now, but if you’ve ever been intimately involved with a pathological liar, it’s an experience you never forget. The eight months I spent with my own fabulist were so traumatic that I came to think of all liars as one and the same person. Pathological, chronic, habitual, compulsive—whatever, they all have the same uncanny ability to stir the pot, creating dissention Read More…