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I Honestly Didn’t Know I Had Sweat Glands There.

Be in the moment. Be in the moment. Beinthemoment. 

A single droplet of sweat carved a lazy trail from the top of my shoulder to the crook of my elbow, meandering across spring freckles and around fine hairs until it dropped unexpectedly, as though it felt close enough to the ground to just let go, and landed with a splat onto my purple yoga mat.  Read the rest of this gem…

This Is A Post About Breasts.

I looked at myself in the mirror and assessed. As we do.

Not terrible, I thought, which is much kinder than I usually am to myself. My 32-year-old body has never borne the burden of birth and so, for the most part, while things might not looks as fresh as they did when I was 22 and I’m certainly not as thin, most pieces are still in their proper places. Mostly. Read the rest of this gem…

And Then Ashton Kutcher Sent Me A Present.

“Katie, you’re not going to like this, but I’m just going to say it.” I looked at him wearily, the way anyone would look at someone who is about to ruin your day. Especially when that person is technically your employer, and even more especially when you’re living in a foreign country. Read the rest of this gem…

To WIT.

The city appeared newer than I’d expected.

Sodden and gray in its refusal to quit winter, I thought most of Boston’s buildings might be brick and colonial — not sleek and concrete. But modern monstrosities dwarf the stunted historicals as towering testaments to the industrial age. And somehow, interestingly, it works. Read the rest of this gem…