Category: Productive Mother

At 5am, I write. Around 11am I go for a jog. I never eat the skin on a chicken. And on Sundays, after a morning fuck, I do my accounting. I used to think that habit & routine were for the birds. I used to think that doing certain things a certain way all the time was the equivalent of jail. I used to think that predictable was for boring people, and methodical for the scared. Scared of life. Scared

There’s a lot of pressure these days to be perfect. (Says the girl carrying thirty extra pounds and a dysfunctional pouty face.) As someone who used to be very all-or-nothing, over the years I’ve had to make some major peace with the fact that all-or-nothing is a gigantic, sweaty faced fool’s errand. :: How many times have you thought about getting a new website, but don’t…because you’ll “wait until you’ve got more money to really get all the bells and

I get a lot of email. In fact, I probably have more emails in my inbox every day than I have hairs on my head – and since I’m not going bald, this means that I have a lot of people who are requesting my time…all the time. You’d think it was because I was important or something. I wish that were the case. I’m no more important than you are. But since I have a public persona, I probably

So if you’re anything like me (which obviously you are or else you wouldn’t be reading this blog and/or wishing for those last 10 pounds to magically fall off), you’ve constantly got a never-ending stream of STUFF TO DO. When you run a business, that never-ending stream sextuples in size, and you begin to feel like everybody in the whole wide world needs something from you at all times of day, at all times of the month (especially *that* time

I wrote today’s tip earlier today about copywriting. It was pretty fucking good, actually. I might have even made a joke about ham. But then I stalled. I hated the tip. The tip was useful, for sure. The tip was original, most definitely. And the tip was something that some people might have even printed out to remember later. But the fact is? I’m not interested in later. How many pieces of advice do you have bookmarked somewhere for later?

I’ve stopped checking my emails every day. Before that, I shut down my Behind Closed Doors program. And this past Saturday night out with the girls? I drank…sparkling water. Yet, I can confidently confirm that I am not pregnant, suicidal, dying of cancer (at the moment, anyway) or just having such great sex that I can’t be bothered. (Again, at the moment.) So why the drastic changes? Well for one… …vodka was making my neck appear larger in real life–not