You really can’t make this stuff up. Not too long ago I heard a woman in Whole Foods ask a store clerk which brand of vegan lip moisturizer had more calories. Lucky for her, the employee was super polite and actually stopped to read the tiny print on the two lip-balm labels before shaking his head and apologizing that he couldn’t help her. I can say with certainty that if she had asked me the same question, I would’ve promptly snatched the organic low-carb baguette from her shopping basket and whacked her over the head with it.

Why some women remain obsessed with calories, fat grams, carbs, inches, pounds, and God knows what other measurements we can obsess over, is beyond me. Now there are certain substances we do need to watch, such as our sodium and sugar intake, and foods we need to make sure we’re consuming … //READ MORE

During a recent dinner with several mom friends, the discussion turned to the stay-at-home vs. go-back-to-work debate. Now, this is a hot topic that many women start thinking about from the day that little plus sign appears on their pregnancy-test applicator. It’s a subject on which everyone—from mothers-in-law to politicians—seems to have a strong opinion, and those opinions can get pretty heated. When women begin judging one another, it can become downright nasty. I know a few stay-at-home moms who are righteous about their choice, as well as a couple of career-driven moms who view themselves as superior for remaining in the work force. Thank goodness, the majority of my friends fall somewhere in between, understanding that this is a decision every woman must make for herself, that there’s no one right answer and, most important, that children raised by both working moms and stay-at-home moms will most likely turn out absolutely fine.

Still, everyone has something to say on the topic. At this gathering of close friends, guards dropped and the women at the table got honest and emotional talking about the often-agonizing decision of whether to head back to a work and leave your baby in someone else’s care, or stay at home to enjoy your child but put the brakes on your career. One of the moms said she knew the moment she got engaged that she wanted to stay home to raise a family full time. (“My mom and grandma and great-grandma did it—I guess it’s in my DNA,” she said.) Another woman insisted she was destined to work until the day she died. “As much as I love my kids, I would be bored out of my fucking mind … //READ MORE

When a heterosexual man meets a woman for the first time, chances are he will, consciously or subconsciously, judge her approachability, her attractiveness and her potential for a great romp in the sack. If he’s a more sensitive guy, he might also try to gauge whether she’d make a good wife or mother. But when a heterosexual woman meets another woman for the first time, she will judge her ability to be a good friend…and her potential as a post-retirement roommate in a split-level ranch house in Miami.

My closest pals don’t know that I’ve already designated which of them will be the Rose and Blanche to my Dorothy, God forbid I’m a widow when it comes time for me to trade my stilettos for orthopedic shoes. (As a neurotic, native New Yorker, I allow myself to play the “God Forbid…” game on occasion.) And I have several back-ups in mind, in case my top roomie picks are unavailable by then—that is, if they are still married, living in a nursing home, or otherwise, ahem, checked out. One of the chosen ladies, like the Rose character, has a heart of gold, a slightly airy temperament and, most important, an endless supply of wacky childhood stories. The other is a sophisticated city gal whom I can definitely imagine evolving into a fun-loving geriatric sexpot, persuading everyone in the house to … //READ MORE

Fashion moves so fast these days that it’s hard to keep up. But the latest trend is a no-brainer: gorgeous head jewelry designed to make you feel like an Egyptian goddess. If the idea of wrapping your pretty little noggin with chains and gems sounds strange, consider this: You wouldn’t think twice about adorning your neck, ears, wrists and fingers, right? So why not bedazzle your most valuable asset?

No longer just for brides, Bollywood stars and princesses, head jewelry is now hitting the mainstream. Celebrities like Kim Kardashian and Vanessa Hudgens have been caught out and about sporting gold and silver chains draped over wavy tresses or a sleek ponytail. Styles range from simple gold chains to custom pieces ornamented with antique metal accents, rhinestones or jewels. While it’s still hard to find these heady accessories in stores, they’re readily … //READ MORE

When it comes to love, sex, marriage and motherhood, French women say relax. And we Americans should listen, according to Debra Ollivier’s bestseller What French Women Know, a witty examination of the French feminine mystique.

For generations, the world has known that French ladies are sophisticated and confident, sassy and sensual, and can rock a bustier like nobody’s business. But what we may not have noticed, says Ollivier, is that their views on relationships are in some ways strikingly different from American women’s, so much so that French females are able to enjoy life exponentially more than we are. Surprise, surprise.

Now, Ollivier, an American who has lived and raised children in Paris, is not saying French women are perfect. She is simply suggesting that we … //READ MORE

I used to think those girls who complained of PMS symptoms were looking for attention. Cramps? You’re kidding. Mood swings? Yeah, right. Acne and migraines? Fahgettaboudit.

And it used to tick me off when people made jokes about women being unable to serve high office, because they would do something rash “during that time of month.” As if a female president would order a nuclear missile attack just because she was on the rag. (Raiding the White House kitchen, hitting on a male intern, or sending the Secret Service on a midnight Haagen-Dazs run, however, I would not put past her.)

On the occasional month that I did get cramps or a headache, I popped a Motrin and I was good to go. But during the past year or so, all that skepticism about PMS “symptoms” has come back to bite me—big time. Suddenly, during the week before my period, I am experiencing migraines, bloating, fatigue. And oh yeah, raging hormonal swings. It is sort of like one of those pharmaceutical infomercials coming to life, except all the possible side effects are really happening.

Strangely, the hour or so before my period is the absolute worst. And apparently I am not alone. A friend recently told me that one afternoon, she picked up the phone and screamed at her next-door neighbor over a backyard-encroachment issue, only to welcome her “lady friend” three seconds after she hung up. After her outburst, my friend immediately felt better about the yard situation, as well as everything else in her life, so she called her neighbor to apologize. Her neighbor, being a victim of monthly meltdowns herself, understood completely.

I have been known to do crazy things during that witching hour, like hitting on my husband while he’s designing flow charts on his laptop, or going out and buying a Red Velvet cake for no apparent reason.

Here’s some of the other amusing stuff I did during the hour before my last period: Screamed at my kids for leaving their scooters in the driveway. Screamed at a copy of Highlights magazine for giving me a paper cut. Consumed an entire bag of corn chips and a jar of salsa while watching a ridiculously bad Lifetime movie. Snapped at my mother on the phone.

In my defense, you really can’t blame me for that last misdemeanor, because this is how my mother answers the phone:

“Oh, honey, is that you? Yeah, hi. Sorry it took me so long to get to the phone. I was in the dining room clipping coupons. They have spiral honey hams on sale at Key Food, it’s such a good deal. I need to run over there tomorrow and pick one up for the holidays. Oh, and then the Chinese food delivery guy was at the door, so I had to go and find my purse…”

“Mom?”

“…I couldn’t find it anywhere, but then I realized it was in the dining room, because that’s where I was putting the coupons after I cut them. Anyway, the delivery guy didn’t have change, so I had to dig through my purse…”

“Mom?”

“Oh, and that’s when I heard the phone ring, but by the time I finished paying the guy the answering machine went on, so I put the Chinese food down in the kitchen and ran to get the phone…”

“Mom!!”

“You don’t have to yell. I’m here. So how are you? You never tell me anything that’s going on over there.”

Bottom line, we should learn to enjoy the PMS while it lasts, because it’s a lot more manageable than the post-menopausal Dingbat Syndrome that’s heading our way. I remember my grandmother used to have similar phone manners, twenty years ago, and it drove my mother crazy. I guess the take-out doesn’t fall far from the delivery truck, so I’ll be preparing for the day my daughter calls me and I spend ten minutes reflecting on the medications I’m taking and the early-bird dinner I had the previous night.

Ah, so much to look forward to. But for now I’ll leave you with one of the funniest shorts Saturday Night Live has ever produced. It’s a fake commercial for a period-delaying woman’s pill called Annuale. Watch it now to understand how grateful you should be that you still get a visit from your lady friend once a month.

This story originally appeared in Lady and a Red Typewriter, 2011.