Growing up in Las Vegas, surrounded by exaggerated showgirl images of womanly perfection, a girl gets a harsh sense of her own physical imperfections. Growing up anywhere in America, bombarded by plastic surgery-altered images of celebrities, a woman gets a clear image of a possible path to physical perfection or at least improvement. In my
And other Signs you’re not as young as you think you are.
“Are you still sexually active?” “Excuse me?” “Are you still sexually active?” repeated the gynecologist, peering up and around my legs. Why? I worried silently. Was she finding something ‘down there’ to indicate I wasn’t or shouldn’t be? “Of course, I am,” I replied sharply, snapping my legs together to signal an end to that
https://muddling.me/wp-content/uploads/2016/10/dried-flowers-1149191_640.jpg425640Karen Galatzhttps://muddling.me/wp-content/uploads/2024/10/kg-logo.pngKaren Galatz2017-05-05 09:05:022024-07-18 10:17:52Are You Still Sexually Active?
“What's in a name? that which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet;”
So argued sweet, naïve Juliet about her love Romeo’s last name. Well, as we all know, the tale of Romeo and Juliet did not end well. While many lessons can be learned from this story of teen love gone tragically awry, for me, the lesson is that there is a lot at stake when it
"Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet, Till Earth and Sky stand presently at God’s great Judgment Seat." Rudyard Kipling
I’m a city girl, as in The City, The Big Apple, New York City. He’s a western, small-town-kind-of-guy. I’m a Gucci-kind-of-girl. He’s always been a cowboy- boot-wearing-guy. And I don’t mean the fancy, handcrafted, custom-made, snakeskin, gold-and-silver encrusted Tony Lama or Lucchese kind of cowboy boots. I mean unadorned, work boots. “Shit-kickers,” as my father
https://muddling.me/wp-content/uploads/2016/10/cowboy-boots-975103_1280-e1491858782596.jpg8321276Karen Galatzhttps://muddling.me/wp-content/uploads/2024/10/kg-logo.pngKaren Galatz2017-05-05 09:00:522024-07-18 10:17:52These Boots are no Longer Made for Walking
I bought Elle magazine this week. I could not resist its siren call. It was the September/Fall back-to-school issue, the fat issue. You know, the issue loaded with more ads and ostensibly more features than usual, touting the latest in Fall fashions and back-to-school styles. It is, in fact, the only time it is acceptable
My Pain-free, Nonsurgical Facelift
Growing up in Las Vegas, surrounded by exaggerated showgirl images of womanly perfection, a girl gets a harsh sense of her own physical imperfections. Growing up anywhere in America, bombarded by plastic surgery-altered images of celebrities, a woman gets a clear image of a possible path to physical perfection or at least improvement. In my
Are You Still Sexually Active?
And other Signs you’re not as young as you think you are.
“Are you still sexually active?” “Excuse me?” “Are you still sexually active?” repeated the gynecologist, peering up and around my legs. Why? I worried silently. Was she finding something ‘down there’ to indicate I wasn’t or shouldn’t be? “Of course, I am,” I replied sharply, snapping my legs together to signal an end to that
Name Banes
“What's in a name? that which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet;”
So argued sweet, naïve Juliet about her love Romeo’s last name. Well, as we all know, the tale of Romeo and Juliet did not end well. While many lessons can be learned from this story of teen love gone tragically awry, for me, the lesson is that there is a lot at stake when it
These Boots are no Longer Made for Walking
"Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet, Till Earth and Sky stand presently at God’s great Judgment Seat." Rudyard Kipling
I’m a city girl, as in The City, The Big Apple, New York City. He’s a western, small-town-kind-of-guy. I’m a Gucci-kind-of-girl. He’s always been a cowboy- boot-wearing-guy. And I don’t mean the fancy, handcrafted, custom-made, snakeskin, gold-and-silver encrusted Tony Lama or Lucchese kind of cowboy boots. I mean unadorned, work boots. “Shit-kickers,” as my father
Fat Fall Fashion Magazines
I bought Elle magazine this week. I could not resist its siren call. It was the September/Fall back-to-school issue, the fat issue. You know, the issue loaded with more ads and ostensibly more features than usual, touting the latest in Fall fashions and back-to-school styles. It is, in fact, the only time it is acceptable