Emmy 2016: Fetch or Wretch?

It's that time of the week. Let's recap a night full of, as Amy Poehler once put it, the rat-faced people of television! 

Can I just say something before we start? I saw this headline today: "Amy Schumer Shut Down the Sexist Question, 'Who are you wearing?' Once and For All!" 

Mmkay. 

First of all, what Amy actually said was who she was wearing, she just happened to make a joke about how she was also wearing an OB tampon. #classicamy 

It really bothers me that the question, "Who are you wearing?" is being deemed as sexist. Y'all, these celebrities don't own any of these clothes. These gowns were loaned or were custom-made for them by design houses as a means of promotion. When Kerry Washington steps on the red carpet looking FIERCE AS HELL (we'll get to that in a minute), she's a walking advertisement for Brandon Maxwell. It's not sexist to ask women what designer has created the look they're wearing - it IS sexist to ONLY ask them about that. 

Whew. I feel better. Okay. Let's get to judgin'. 

FETCH. 

1. Felicity Huffman

Girl, I don't know whatcha man is wearing, but you look great. This is simple, understated, well-fitted - hair and makeup are on point. I also love her, which never hurts. 

2. Padma Lakshmi

I mean, it's Padma in a skin-tight, slinky, silver, sequined gown. Do I really need to say more? Fit is fabulous and she looks super striking. 

3. Priyanka Chopra

The actual definition of "feeling myself." Priyanka is such a knockout 100% of the time, but everything about this look makes me want to applaud. That color on her is to die for, and she clearly  l o v e s  how she looks in it, which makes it that much better. She was twirling all night, including when she came out on stage to present an award. You go, Priyanka. 

4. Kristen Bell

Beautiful. My only quibble here is that the makeup could've been a touch more punchy, just so everything wasn't quite so beige, but that dress is SUPER fabulous and really unusual. I love that all four dresses featured so far are totally different, which just goes to show - it's not about fitting into a mold, it's about finding what works for you. 

5. Emilia Clarke

That fit. WOW. She looks like she was poured into that dress, and I mean that in the best way. Totally beautiful. Again, could've punched up the makeup, but I love that she kept her hair back so that all you see is dressdressdress. 

6. Kate McKinnon

Jordan's girlfriend Kate doesn't always get it right, but she really nailed it last night. Sure, there are some minor fit issues around her waist, but overall, that dress reads as lovely. She is glowing, which, once again, makes a huge difference. And she won! Love her so. 

7. Tina Fey

So really I have a couple of bones to pick here, but I loooooove this color and love that Tina knows what works: her tiny, not-a-real-human waist is showcased. It does read as a little "bathing suit cover-up" if you're not careful...man, I don't know anymore. I may have just talked myself out of this being Fetch. Let's move on. 

8. Sarah Paulson

I waffled a little on this, but ultimately, this dress is pretty spectacular. The craftsmanship of the dress alone is pretty incredible, but when you pair it with Sarah Paulson, who I find to be particularly fabulous, it really sings. Perfect color on her. Not completely in love with the plunging neckline, but whatever. More than anything, this was a great night for her because DAMN did she ever deserve that win. If you haven't seen American Crime Story: The People vs. OJ Simpson, you need to RUN, not walk, to your computer and start. It's worth every second, and its cast (rightly) cleaned house last night. Watching Marcia Clark get absolved on stage by Sarah Paulson was tear-jerking. 

Now, for a declaration.

The winner of the night: 

Kerry "Slay All Day" Washington!

Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who's the Fetchest of them all? KERRY KERRY KERRY. 

I mean, come ON, right?? Every angle, every photo, everyTHING about this look is so fierce it's almost hard to look at directly. I can't even form a full sentence so here are some fragments: pregnant. Glowing. Natural hair. Goddess. Perfect skin. Cutouts. Fit. 

She is not of this world and we are lucky to behold her. 

Le sigh. Soak up Kerry, because now it's time to rot your corneas with these MESSES. 

WRETCH. 

1. Sarah Hyland. 

Sarah's dress got caught in the limo door on the way here, so she borrowed a friend's workout leggings to make do. Really, though, it's pretty terrible. I understand the idea, but everything about it is aging and unflattering, from where the bodice hits her midsection to the two giant, floppy dog ears she's wearing as a skirt. It's not good, girl. Reconsider. 

2. Giuliana Rancic

Giuliana looks like a small mammal who got caught in a wind tunnel outside a bridal salon. She is tangled up in that tulle and she can't get out. SOMEBODY HELP. 

3. Sofia Vergara

I know I know, I said that thing about knowing what works, but y'all - it's just tired. She wears the same tight, bustier, corset-backed, ass-featuring dress to every event. Come on, Sofia. You're gorg. Find something else. 

5. Gabby Hoffman

This isn't really fair, but I can't get Gabby's character on Girls (has long underarm hair, takes baths in front of her brother) out of my head when looking at her. Know your audience, Gabby. This men's shirt is just not cutting it. 

6. Alia Shawkat

Oh - sorry! The barbeque is down the street. No, you're totally fine - happens all the time! You can leave your heels here and grab some flip flops from the basket at the back door. Thanks! 

7. Michelle Dockery

Hot take, I know. Listen, the overall look is gorgeous. The level of formality is exactly right, she's perfectly accessorized, her head styling is on point. This is a personal preference. I reeeeeeeeeeally don't love tiered (or pick-up, for that matter) skirts. But what's bugging even more about this dress is the two little boob ruffles. Each breast looks like a hooded head. Not my thing. Sorry, Michelle. Love you though. 

8. Aziz Ansari

This is what you should look like at the end of the night, not the beginning. Not here for the tie-less look. Also, those pants are too tight. ...I feel bad, because I love Aziz so much, but it's true. 

And the Wretchest goes to...

Anna Chlumsky! 

*needle scratch*

Um...what?? 

My Girl has been playing dress up in her grandmother's trunk. Tonight, she's wearing a brocade quilt she found. The little ring of elastic around the hem of the skirt was her favorite touch, because she did that herself with her own sewing machine. It says, "I'm here to look classy, but if I need to drop at low at the after-party, this skirt gives me the freedom to do so." 

Wince. 

You know JLD personally, right?? Take some style tips from her. And ask her what her skincare regimen is because THA BITCH DOESN'T AGE. 

5 Reasons Camping Terrifies Me.

First, some context. 

This weekend, Jordan and I are headed to the east Tennessee to camp for two nights and white water raft on the Ocoee. We're meeting my brother Parker and his girlfriend, Emily, and I am jumping out of my skin with excitement to see them. 

But I'm a little scared, people. I have been camping exactly once. I was about 11 years old, and it rained so hard and so long that night that our tents collapsed in on themselves. 

So, as you can imagine, it was a real pleasure of a trip. 

I am definitely not the kind of person who imagines the worst-case scenarios (HAHAHA yes I am), so don't worry, I haven't thought of everything that could go wrong. 

Ladies and gentlemen, in no particular order, my camping fears. 

1. I (or others) get eaten by a wild animal. 

Just like this scene from The Parent Trap in which Meredith gets eaten by this lizard. 

Guess what? We live in the woods. And bears are particularly active this year. And we're gonna have a bunch of food. Out. On the ground. Guess where we're sleeping? Also on the ground. I'm going to get mauled by a bear. Don't we need some kind of whistle? Horn? Spaceship? Something? 

2. Creatures bite me all night long. 

Now listen, I take pride in not being scream-y and girl-y about bugs (except ticks and roaches). I don't lose it when I see a spider - I just help it back outside where it belongs.

But y'all, mosquitoes LOVE ME. As in, once I went out in workout leggings that were mesh in the back. I put bug spray all over my body except on the backs of my legs, because, what mosquito is going to bite THROUGH mesh? None, right?? Wrong. I got 13 bites in a the half hour I was outside. 

I'm basically going to be The Mummy at the end of the movie. #mynightmare. 

3. No sleep. 

Let me confess something to you that I'm ashamed to admit: I have become a pretty finicky sleeper. 

I wish this wasn't true, but it is. Also, I think I just officially realized that I am O L D.

I like the house to be 70 degrees, I need exactly the right pillows, and a sound machine needs to be on. I know. I hate myself a little bit. 

But in the woods, you don't have a sound machine. You hear every snapping twig and hooting owl and scooting bug and grumbling bear and slithering 35-foot snake. And, you know, you're sleeping on the ground. Although Jordan did get some sleeping pads. Maybe I'll take some Tylenol PM? But then what happens if I'm too asleep and don't hear the werewolves approaching me? And then I'm too groggy to wake up and run away? 

Thanks a lot, Tylenol PM. 

4. Murderers. 

I mean, you had to be waiting for this one, right? I'm pretty much 1,000% positive that we will get murdered. I think that's a totally reasonable fear. 

Jordan does carry a large knife on camping trips, though, so maybe that'll help. Maybe he can Mick Dundee the scary meth-head who lives in the woods and is going to come kill us and eat our bones. 

5. We run out of s'mores. 

The most grave and terrifying fear of all. Unlike Toby, who is widely regarded as THE WORST, I will never say, "No more s'mores." Never. 

Jordan made a grocery run earlier this week, which was super kind and awesome, but also means that he got normal amounts of food. For s'mores, he got 4 Hershey's bars, a bag of marshmallows, and a box of graham crackers. That's right right amount of food, except you need about 7 more Hershey's bars. I'll go get them. 

I know I know I KNOW everything is actually going to be fine and it's going to be really fun. I'm just being stupid. I don't want to end up like those Naked and Afraid contestants shivering alone in the woods and fighting off mountain lions while night-vision cameras watch impartially. 

OH MY GOSH DO NOT GOOGLE NAKED AND AFRAID GIFS. Don't. Do not. Do not do it. There is porn in there. WHY?!? I MEANT THE TV SHOW!!! People are disgusting! 

Okay. Anyway, I'm going to wrap up this blog post in which I basically word vomited all over you and say that I'll report back first thing Monday with a full report of how our weekend went. 

Who knows? I might have turned a real Outdoor Girl. But probably not. 

Hope Jordan remembers to bring my faux fur and my air conditioned tent. #beverlyhillswhatathrill

Anxiety.

It's a pesky little concept. 

Anxiety is something I never really thought I struggled with. And, to be fair, I don't have a chronic anxiety problem. It isn't something for which I take medication or see a counselor (though man oh man do I believe in counseling and therapy!). But it is something I've learned more about recently, and I'll tell you why. 

First, let me share how anxiety creeps into my world.

Mine is a social anxiety. Sure, I experience other types from time to time - anxiety about work, about money, about big looming life decisions - but the majority of the time, my anxiety shows up in one of the following ways: 

• Inviting people over, then stressing to an absurd degree about my house (what it looks like, whether it's nice enough, hosting, etc.). 
• Tightness in my chest at the thought of an upcoming social gathering with people I don't know very well and whether people will like me.
• Playing a social interaction back in my head (sometimes over and over) and worrying whether that thing I said or did has made a person start spontaneously disliking me. 
• Knowing someone is upset with me and being slowly eaten alive by that information.

Have you been there? 

I know many of my friends struggle with anxiety in a more debilitating way: playing back the day's conversations long into the night, restless, unable to sleep until they know beyond a doubt that they didn't offend or upset anyone; that same tight-chestedness, but all the time and spanning from activity to activity; being so racked with doubt and fear that everyday decisions can seem overwhelming. 

Do you relate? 

I think anxiety, lots of times, is born out of being sensitive. And I don't mean "sensitive" as in, "get your feelings hurt easily." I mean truly sensitive - the definition of the word - a person who senses. If you're a person like me who senses the social balance in a room when you walk into it, or who senses when someone is upset before other people catch on, or who reads about tragedy in the world and feels like it has happened to you: that's sensitivity. And I think that's a great quality (though I'm admittedly a little biased). It makes for creative, loving, intuitive people. But it can also be a tinderbox for anxiety. 

This is where my friend Meredith comes in. 

There's a concept in carpentry (h/t Glennon Doyle Melton) called that really applies here. When the joists (the weight-bearing pieces of a building that preserve the structural integrity) get overloaded with bearing the weight of the building, carpenters go back in and add reinforcements. They add a board on either side of the joist, creating a stronger, more stable structure. The act of adding those extra boards is called "sistering." 

When I first heard this explained, a lightbulb went off in my head. I don't have any biological sisters (hey, Parker!); instead, I have a handful of girlfriends who are more like family. All throughout my life, when I've needed extra support - when the weight of my own world has become too heavy - I have looked to my left and to my right and found my sisters to help me bear the burden. 

In this particular case, at this particular juncture in my life, the concepts of sistering and dealing with anxiety fit like a hand in a glove. 

Meredith, one of my sisters, has taken her own winding and fascinating path to end up exactly where she is right now. She has done loads of research about anxiety and has dealt with it in very real ways herself. She's a certified yoga instructor and a pharmacist, so she's deeply familiar with the inner-workings of both the mind and the body. Meredith decided a few months ago that she was going to use the work she'd done to overcome her own anxiety toward helping others overcome theirs. Aside from just talking about anxiety, this program involves movement - actual yoga - to accompany the mantras and lessons you learn each session. I took Meredith's pilot program in February and noticed a tangible difference in the way I moved through the world: 

Suddenly, I felt lighter, more at peace, less mentally frantic. I wasn't re-tracing my conversational steps. I wasn't freaking out when people came over. I could separate my thoughts from my SELF - the deepest and truest part of me. I could be still. It was world-rocking and incredible. 

Since her course, there have been moments when I slip back into my old habits. When that happens, I have a list of mantras (provided by Meredith's coursework) that I return to to remind myself of what's important; of how to stay grounded. It has helped me enormously.

You can get more of an idea of what the course is like by visiting this link and listening to the free workshop Meredith put together to explain the program. Stick with it - if it sounds a little "rah-rah-cheerleader" for you at the beginning, just give it some time. I can guarantee that you'll learn something, be intrigued, and, if you decide to pursue the course, your life will be changed by this important and meaningful work. 

Because y'all - we have ONE LIFE. Who wants to live it tied up in knots about things beyond their control?? 

Life is hard. Anxiety is paralyzing. Sistering is important. So let me lend you one of mine. 

To learn more, click the photo above or visit meredithmcelroy.com. 

The Story of My Wedding Shoes

So the first thing you should know about me is that I'm a serious Sarah Jessica Parker fan. Yes, I'm a Sex And the City fan, too, but it runs deeper than that. My love affair with SJP began in high school when saw my first few episodes of SATC. The curly-haired, effortlessly stylish writer that she played on that show would serve to be one of the female characters I idolized growing up (more on that in another post). One of my most treasured Christmas gifts was a tiny diamond horseshoe necklace like the one she wears. I still have a giant costume flower that I pin on jackets and dresses every so often. 

Beyond Carrie, though, I love SJP herself. She is whip-smart, funny, classy to a fault. I love her blindly and always will.

My freshman year in college, the Sex and the City movie came out. My mom and I went to see it and it was every bit as fabulous as I thought it would be. One scene in particular stayed with me: 

Those shoes, people. 

They were so gorgeous and so unique. I loved them so much that when a friend of mine spotted them in a Saks in Chicago, she snapped a photo and sent it to me. That picture was the background photo of my Blackberry Pearl (anyone? anyone?) for two years. 

My between my sophomore and junior years, I studied abroad in England at Oxford University. One of the weekend trips I'd scheduled was for me and two girlfriends - just a day trip into London. We would arrive, shop, eat, see Les Miserables (my all-time favorite Broadway show) and then come back. 

Little did I know.

The girls, Alexis and Elizabeth, had seen the background photo on my phone and had recognized the shoes immediately. 

"I wonder if there's a Manolo store here," Elizabeth asked.

I hadn't even thought of this possibility and grabbed my phone to Google. 

There was. It was a stand-alone Manolo Blahnik store - not inside a mall, but a real-deal, floor-to-ceiling Manolo store. We all squealed. 

"Call and see if they have your shoes!!" 

I frantically clicked the number listed underneath the address I'd found online and waited. 

"Manolo Blahnik, how can we help?" 

"Um, hi!" I was painfully Southern and PAINFULLY uncool, but I was trying my hardest to sound adult and professional. "I'm looking for the 'Something Blue' pumps with the rhinestone buckle. Do you have any in store?" 

"We have one pair." 

"Really?? Oh my gosh, thank you!!" I practically screamed. Then hung up. 

The girls stared at me in anticipation. 

"...well?" 

"They have a pair. I can't believe it." 

"Are they your size??" Elizabeth was being practical. In my spazzy panic, I hadn't even asked. 

"Oh. Right. Okay. Yes." 

So I called back and asked. 

"The shoes are a 39 1/2." 

I quickly thanked them and hung up again. 

"And??" the girls said. 

"They're a 39 1/2," I reported. I had absolutely no idea what that meant. 

I Googled (man, Google really came to our rescue in this story) to discover that the single pair of my dream shoes in all of London - maybe even all of England - came in my size. I relayed this information to the girls. 

"We have to go. Right now." Alexis was determined to get us there before the curtain rose for our show later that afternoon. 

And so we did. 

Alexis, in her brilliance, documented each leg of the journey. First, we took the tube to the stop nearest the store:  

Circa 2009. 

We literally ran out of the subway and, panting, hailed a cab we'd soon realize was being manned by the slowest driver on this planet. 

Me and the slowest man. Note the Blackberry Pearl hanging out in my lap.

"Sir, I hate to be a bother, but could you speed it up just a bit? We're really trying to make an appointment." 

The whole ride over, all I could think about was whether I was about to put my foot into a shoe I'd been dreaming about for years. It was more than just a shoe - it was a connection with this person who'd always been aspirational to me. It sounds silly, I know, but Sarah Jessica Parker is more than just a celebrity I love. She's someone whose candor and example have given me something to strive for. I have plenty of wonderful female role models in my real life, but she and I have a special relationship. I wanted to have my very own Carrie Bradshaw moment. 

Finally, we arrived. I remember pulling up like it was yesterday. Vines grew along the edges of the marble awning where the subtle words "Manolo Blahnik" were carved in small letters. 

I felt light-headed. Suddenly, I didn't feel old enough to be here. Did you need parental supervision at Manolo?? Would they let us in? It felt sneaky - rebellious, even - to waltz into this store at 20 years old, accompanied only by other 20-year-old's. But I was on my own in another country, and everything, even going to the food truck outside our college, sent a bolt of electric independence through my chest. 

"I'm only going to try them on," I told the girls. I didn't want any expectations raised that I'd actually be purchasing these bad boys.

Elizabeth and me right before walking in. 

We took our first steps into the small store and I quickly realized we were the only people there. The salesman immediately recognized me (I'm sure the accent was a dead giveaway) and led me straight to the shoes, which were sitting on top of a box, waiting.

"Will you be trying them on?" he asked. 

"Yes."  

I sat down in a chair and the salesman slipped the shoes on, one after the other.

The last photo we were able to take inside as we were told that "Mr. Blahnik doesn't allow photography in the store." Well then. Noted.

Few times in my life have I been speechless, but this was one of them. I couldn't believe I was here. I couldn't believe these shoes were on my feet. 

I stood up and looked in the full-length mirror. Suddenly, standing before me was the reflection of a grown-up girl. These shoes completed the transformation that study abroad had begun: I was an adult now. I was my own woman. I was the agent of my own happiness. For that moment, the person I always wanted to be and the person I actually was merged together. It wasn't the shoes - it was what the shoes represented. Tears filled my eyes, and I heard myself say, 

"Sold." 

"YAY!!!" My precious friends were celebrating and clapping - they'd secretly wanted me to buy these shoes all along. 

It was, to date, the most expensive purchase I've ever made and will probably be the only one of its kind. I won't go into cost details (cough, way-too-expensive, cough) except to say that I paid my parents back for the loan they made. But what choice did I have? These shoes were more than shoes. 

Moments after we left the store, having a total joy-fit. 

We ran sprinting down the streets of London, breaking a tiny sweat, and slid into our seats during the overture of Les Mis. It was a Top 5 day in my life then, and still is. 

I knew when I bought them that I'd keep them unworn until I got married. These were no ordinary shoes - not shoes to tout around at parties or wear to random dinners. No, these shoes were sacred to me - they would be worn for the first time down the aisle at my wedding. 

(Except for all the times I'd "practice" around my house, of course.) 

When I put these shoes on to walk down the aisle in 2014, years later, to a man I hadn't even met when I tried these shoes on in that store in London, I felt a funny wrinkle in time. 

As I looked in the full-length mirror in my wedding gown, I realized that part of what made that moment 2009 so transcendent is that that Mary Catherine, the 20-year-old version, knew somewhere deep down in her bones that these shoes would accent not just that one, but two moments of formative importance. My past self and my current one connected across time and space, both of us standing in our favorite shoes, both having traveled miles and learned lots of lessons to be standing right there. It almost felt like, if I stared hard enough at my reflection, I'd see myself in that yellow dress, smile bursting off my face. Without that girl, I wouldn't have been this one, I thought. They took me down the aisle to the love of my life, then out the door with him as we started our new adventure together. 

I've only ever worn the shoes again to my second anniversary dinner with Jordan. They sit in the now-tattered Manolo box that has been moved from house to house to house, and every so often I peek inside. They wink at me from their box, still inside, still magical, wondering what adventure is around the corner. 

Whatever it is, they'll be along for the trip. 

How Tom Hanks Changed My Life

Published at the Huffington Post here: 

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/57d13a3ae4b0273330ac369e?timestamp=1473342539989

5 Reasons To Go To The Gynecologist.

Aaaaaaaaand every straight male reader I have just closed their browser. 

I know, it's kind of unsavory. But really it's not, which is what we're going to talk about today. 

I live in the deep South, and down here, we do not discuss such things - particularly in mixed company, particularly on public forums. Topics like gynecology are met with a wince. "Do we really need to talk about that?" 

Yep. We really do. 

It's because of this taboo that many women are terrified and/or unwilling to see their doctors. We don't talk about it in everyday conversations because of what is associated with that area of our bodies - sex, babies, and intimacy. And that's all totally understandable - privacy and decorum are important and have their place. 

The other side of the coin, though, is that a gynecologist is not just a doctor for sex, babies, and intimate questions - a gynecologist is a doctor for women's HEALTH. That includes all of those less-than-dinner-appopriate conversations, but it also means that someone is giving you a good solid once-over - checking the miracle that is your body for trouble spots and medical puzzle pieces that, when put together correctly, paint a picture we just can't see on our own. 

So here are five reasons you should go to your gynecologist, with a little help from Dr. Mindy Lahiri, our favorite OB/GYN. And I'm only going to say the word "vagina" once. Ready? Okay. 

1. Prevention.

People, if this isn't a reason enough, I don't know what is. Even if you only see your doctor once a year, that's a guarantee that someone who is not you will check for things like cervical and breast cancer EVERY YEAR. Of course, self-checks are key, but taking advantage of an objective set of medically-trained eyes never hurt anyone. In fact, quite the opposite. You taking initiative and asking questions could be the difference in your quality of life for years to come. 

2. Building a relationship. 

This may sound weird, but I love my gynecologist. It took me a few tries to find exactly the right person for me, but I am so happy that my doctor is someone in whom I trust and can confide. Every visit, she carves out at least 5 minutes to sit and talk to me about what's going on in my life so that she has a whole picture of me as a person, not just a patient. I have laughed and cried in her exam room, and I feel totally at home with her. The fact that this woman will deliver my future babies is actually thrilling to me. 

Similarly, there are lots of doctors who won't be your type. But, as with dating, one bad apple shouldn't spoil the bunch. If you're unhappy with your current gyno, make a change. Somewhere out there is your gynecological soulmate, and you have to find them. Go! Right now!  

3. Education. 

If I ever had a wake-up call about how little some of our young people know about sex, it was teaching middle school. WOW. Nope, you actually can't get pregnant from oral sex. No, you can't "wash off" an STD by showering. And The Clap isn't a fun dance move. 

But the education piece goes beyond young people. Every woman needs to know about her specific, particular body - how it functions, what it looks and feels like when it's healthy, and what warning signs to watch for if it's not.

4. Normalizing. 

In my short 27 years, I've met several women who are terrified to go to the gynecologist. Some of these women were afraid something about their visit would hurt; others were under the impression that they only needed to go to the doctor when they became sexually active. 

The way to face a fear is to face it. If you are afraid of the doctor, go to the doctor. This is your health we're talking about - not a roller coaster, or heights, or some other avoidable anxiety. And for the record, your vagina (there it was!) is just as important whether you are sexually active or not. In fact, The American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists recommends that women see their doctor for the first time between 13 and 15, not at 18 as is the common practice in the US. 

And the truth is? Nervousness is totally normal - your doctor expects it! The right doctor will make you feel comfortable and relaxed, and they've seen everything you've got before. Probably right before and right after they see "yours." 

5. Because you deserve it. 

It's easy to think of gynecology as a specialty, and technically, it is. But in my own mind, seeing my gynecologist is just as important as seeing my general physician. There are so many pro's to seeing my doctor. My annual appointment was yesterday, and I love knowing that all systems are "go" so that I can live my life to the fullest and not fret over my health or my fear of going in to get something checked. It's empowering, and everyone is entitled to that feeling.

You are fabulous, and you deserve to live a long, healthy life. Your doctor can play a huge role in allowing that to happen. So, while you might be fearful, or just dragging your feet to finally make that annual appointment for this year, DON'T. Go. Go to the gynecologist. Be a woman who is proactive about her health and takes charge of her body. Mindy Lahiri and I want you to. 

Thanks, girl.