An Rud A Lionas An Tsuil Lionann Se An Croi

I'm not going to change your mind about abortion. I know I'm not. No matter how many statistics, testimonies, scientific facts I post, I know some people will not be swayed from their position.  But you know what? That's not really my intention anyway. @destinynwf Since the news broke about the Texas Heartbeat Bill my newsfeed has been full of posts about it. I've seen people lauding it, people decrying it, and plenty of people who are feeling a bit of both. I've seen a lot of misinformation about it, a lot of fear-mongering. I've seen false hope and premature relief. I've shared things on my own social media pages about the bill, too.  I know it's not going to necessarily change anyone's mind.  What's my intention, then? I share these things and I talk about these things because I believe that the only way to truly create change, the kind of change that both sides want, is by thinking about these things, really thinking about them, and then get...

102.5 pounds. That's how much I weighed when I was a senior in high school. I remember that number because I was proud of it, and because I never hit it again after I went off to college. At that time I was playing field hockey, eating a bowl of ice cream almost every night, and in a terrible, toxic relationship. Looking back at pictures of me from that time period, I looked slender and toned, by skin tan from practices and games spent outside. My teeth were straight and picture-perfect thanks to braces. My hair had a cute, natural flounce to it that I've mysteriously never been able to replicate.  But, boy, was I miserable in that body.  Fake it 'til you make it, baby. This time of year, when beaches and social media feeds are filled with images of half-naked bodies, it's hard to not feel less-than. Even knowing that people edit their pictures with filters and Photoshop, that they contort their bodies and hold their breath long enough to snap that perfect shot, it can ...

  Statue by Bruce Wolfe I was at the doctor's the other day with my daughter for her check-up. The scene that seemed so bizarre a few months ago is familiar now - the spaced chairs, the social distancing markers on the floor, the usual pile of old magazines gone. My baby smiles at the masked faces that talk to her, their eyes shining with delight even if we can't see their mouths. This is normal for her, sadly. It's all she's ever known. It's busy at the office so we end up waiting a little longer than usual. There's a large circular window that overlooks the street below, so I bring her to it and sway back and forth as we look at the passing cars and trucks and the enormous windmills of the college campus across the road.  An old woman, small and thin but not frail, dressed nicely in white pants and a shirt with purple flowers and purple sneakers to match, sits nearby. Another woman, taller and more filled out, maybe in her late 50s or early 60s, sits with her ...