Why you might want to stop talking about your anxiety and try this instead

Photo of a woman putting her hand to her collarbone
Photo of a woman putting her hand to her collarbone
Photo: Kittiphan Teerawattanakul/EyeEm/Getty Images

Let’s back up 50,000 years or so. Imagine you’re a Neanderthal taking a leisurely stroll through the fields. Suddenly, in the nearby bushes, you hear a tiger. In a nanosecond, your entire body starts reacting. Your pulse quickens, your breathing gets shallow, your eyes dilate, your body starts producing adrenaline.

Everything happening in your body is good; you’re prepared to survive this tiger encounter. There’s just one small problem. It wasn’t a tiger. It was a tiny prehistoric weasel. …


Pandemic relationship repair you can tackle tonight

Photo: Uwe Krejci/Getty Images

The year 2020 has been a total romance killer. Most of us are stuck at home with our partners, juggling childcare, Zoom schooling, and full-time jobs. We’re stressed about money, Covid, and politics. Plus, we’re all wearing sweatpants… all the time. It’s no surprise that divorces are spiking.

I know of what I speak. The other day, I referred to my husband as “what’s-his-name.”

I asked relationship experts to weigh in and tell us how we can start to heal the cracks that 2020 has made in our relationships. Disclaimer: This is not going to be the hottest date of…


Wait until Alice hears this

Photo: Peter Muller/Cultura/Getty

Gossip can be awful.

Being the subject of malicious gossip is pretty much the ur-nightmare of adolescence. I still remember being 13 and having a group of girls circle me in the bathroom, insisting that I show them my breasts because they’d heard a rumor that I stuffed my bra. I didn’t go full-on Carrie at them, but needless to say, I wasn’t thrilled.

Years later, having finally recovered from the Bra Gossip Debacle, I’m going to state an unpopular opinion: I also think gossiping can be great. Really. …


For two years, every Monday night, I’ve been taking this Bootcamp class. The instructor, we’ll call him Rambo, is like a greek god crossed with Fabio.

I’m the worst one in the class.

For two years, I’ve been the last person to finish suicides, the only one doing girly pushups, a red sweaty mess struggling to breathe and taking multiple breaks to refill my water bottle.

Everyone else who comes to Bootcamp is a toned, hyper-energetic, fitness buff. When Rambo makes us do one-legged bear crawls across the floor, they act like fried Oreos are raining from the sky.

“Should we do another round of goblet squats…


When I was much younger (and much stupider), I dated a guy who was twenty years older than me.

I was eighteen. I worked at a gelato shop. I drove a Volvo that was born the same year I was. It had been my mom’s and then my brother’s and then mine. It would overheat every 50 miles, so I had to keep a gallon of water in the backseat. …

Emma Pattee

Writer from Portland, Ore. Words in The New York Times, The Washington Post, The Cut, Glamour, Marie Claire, Elle, and others. emmapattee.com

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