The Weighing Is The Hardest Part


So I went to the doctor today, and I was dreading it for so many reasons. The first is, everyone knows doctors are scary. They’re like society’s acceptable bogeymen. They take your blood and judge your lifestyle. And this was my first time seeing this new doctor (thanks, Obamacare, for screwing with my insurance), and I was especially nervous. Thankfully, she was a doll.

But another secret reason that I was apprehensive about going to the doctor is that I know I’ve gained some weight, and I was afraid of being weighed. Yup, that’s something I’m ashamed to admit, but there you go. I told the nurse I didn’t want to know my weight, and she complied.

BUT THEN, I found out anyway, by mistake. I saw the number. And my heart sunk into my fat chest. This is the most I’ve ever weighed. It’s the highest that number has ever been. If it was a Donkey Kong score, I could be proud of that number. But it wasn’t. It was my weight.

How many times am I going to write about my body before I’m over it? I mean, really?

I don’t see men do this. In my entire life I have only once heard a dude say that he had to lose weight (and he totally didn’t, he looked great, honestly. I don’t mean “great” as in, “I don’t want to hurt this person’s feelings, so I’m going to use the word ‘great'” — I mean actually great.) Why am I so bothered by my weight?

I think a big reason is because I don’t understand why I gained weight. I exercise and I barely eat, because I take adderall, and it suppresses my appetite. (I want to go off the adderall, I hate it. I’m talking to my psychiatrist about how to do that, safely.) But it’s like, how is it just my luck to be the only person who GAINS weight while taking adderall?

I’m getting old, you guys. I think that’s the only thing that can explain it. When you get old, the weight is harder to come off than when you were a goddamn teenager. And it’s crazy, because when I was a teenager, I was also complaining about my weight. I was trying to remember when I first started to hate my body. It started in elementary school. I hated my body because I thought I wasn’t tall enough. Then in middle school, I hated my body because I thought my breasts weren’t big enough. Then in high school I hated my body because I didn’t think my stomach was flat enough.

Am I ever going to be done hating myself? How much more can I put myself through before I’m really, truly, done?

So I don’t know where to proceed from here. I can continue to hate my body or I can try loving it. I’m really good at helping others love themselves; I just can’t get myself to give in. I just did a photo shoot and I’m trying not to judge every single photo of me with unhelpful thoughts like, “Double chin here”, “Fat stomach here”, “Large thighs here.” I should instead be looking at the photos and thinking, “How cool that I did this photo shoot, I look awesome.” But it’s like Tom Petty said, “The weighing is the hardest part.” (Okay, fine, he actually says “waiting.” But I needed a pun, I need puns so badly.)

Has anyone on the planet successfully given up their body hate and welcomed the body love? I want you to tell me how you did it. Let’s just talk from our hearts.

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Depression Is Like An Elevator

depression elevator

I want to talk to you about depression. At first, I resisted writing this post, for a few reasons. After the sad and shocking death of Robin Williams, it seemed like everything about depression that could be said was said, and also, it’s scary and uncomfortable for me to come out and talk about my own struggles with depression. But then I realized, maybe that’s why it needs to be written. Because it’s scary, and because it takes a sad and shocking celebrity death for people to talk openly about depression, when the conversation should be ongoing. So here’s my contribution.

I’ve said that depression is like being stuck in an elevator in an empty building. You basically feel like you’re powerless, and that no one can save you, least of all yourself. I’ve also talked about struggling with anxiety. I’ve joked that anxiety is like forcing a cat to wear a costume. But really, having anxiety is awful, as is having depression.

The worst thing about struggling with mental afflictions like these, is the feeling of being trapped. You feel like you have no one to talk to about it, because if you tell someone, you’re afraid they’re going to say the worst possible thing they could say: “Oh stop, you’re being over dramatic.” Hearing the phrase “over dramatic” makes me flinch. I hate being accused of being “over dramatic” so I push all of my negative thoughts deep down, hoping that I’m doing my best at pretending to be a real, functioning person.

And yet, you know that if you have depression, you should talk to someone. (In the wake of Robin Williams’s death people have said over and over, “If you have depression, talk to someone”, as though it were that easy. I understand it isn’t that easy.) That’s why therapy is helpful, but I can’t call and text my therapist 24/7, even though she’s the only person who understands why I freak out at the idea of parking my car. Everyone else thinks I’m insane and ridiculous for freaking out over something so stupid, so why would I tell anyone?

I’m here to tell you that you can tell me. I understand. I understand that it’s the little things that build up inside that make us feel like we’re in that elevator. And I’m also here to tell you that it’s okay. It’s okay to have those scary, depressing, anxiety-ridden thoughts. It’s not okay to always give into them, but it’s okay if that happens, because you’re human, and sometimes, the thoughts win. Sometimes they don’t, and when they don’t, I give you the highest of fives. I want you to know, that you’re not over dramatic. You’re allowed to feel depressed even if you have what others consider an enviable life. They’re not “first world problems” — they’re real problems because they hinder your life, even if no one else thinks so. They don’t have to agree with you. They don’t have to understand. I’d like them to, but people won’t always understand.

Sometimes, the thoughts that win are the thoughts that make people choose suicide. “Why would anyone commit suicide?” people say. “That’s so selfish.” And that’s another word that makes me flinch, because there’s nothing selfish about depression. It’s a disease, like any other, but unlike any other, you get accused of being over dramatic. And these are negative words, and when negative words accompany negative thoughts, bad things happen. I want to tell anyone thinking of suicide that I don’t think you’re selfish, or a bad person.

What I’d like you to do though is think of the story about a man who jumped off the Golden Gate bridge. On his way down, his only thought was, and I’m paraphrasing, “There’s nothing in my life that can’t be fixed other than the fact that I just jumped off a bridge.” In that one moment, he would take it all back. He survived. There’s nothing sadder to me than the idea of someone having that moment and being unable to take it back; of realizing that they made a decision that they can’t change, and wishing they could. Of having the fleeting thought of survival and watching it get sucked away. Please think about that.

I’m not a doctor, and I can’t fix all your problems, but I can let you know that I’m here, if you want to use this post to vent. This is a safe space. I won’t think you’re over dramatic. I won’t think you’re selfish. I won’t think anything other than I’m glad you’re here to add your thoughts to this world. Let’s be good to each other. Let’s break in the building and bust open the elevator door.


CC Image, “Help is on the way, elevator, Chicago Tribune, Chicago, IL”, courtesy of Cory Doctorow via Flickr.


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I’ve made an instructional (sort of) video on how to rock glasses, featuring glasses from Warby Parker. I used their free home-try-on program, where you pick 5 glasses and then send them to you and you try them on. I’m showing you 5 different looks. Let me know what you think.

warby parker

Do you wear glasses? What kind of glasses do you wear?

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It’s here! I teamed up with my gal pals Jordan Hinson and Kate Melton to answer your dating and relationship questions. And there was drinking involved. SO here’s our drunk dating advice video. Part 2 is coming soon! You guys had so many good questions I couldn’t fit them all into one video.

I do hope you enjoy. Thanks again for sending in your questions! We had a blast and a half.

drunk dating advice video

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The Summer Fling I Never Had

summer fling

I’ve never had a summer fling. Those kids from Grease make it sound like such fun! If I had a summer fling, I imagine his name would be Jacques and his hair would be as dark as a David Lynch film. We’d meet in a hilarious and adorable way, like perhaps he accidentally took my drink at Starbucks, and I would tease him for thinking my name was anything like his, and he’d have a fiery French temper but an English wit, and he’d say something like, “I deeply apologize for the horror I caused; let me make it up to you.”

And he’d make it up to me by picking me up at my hotel (yes, I’m suddenly on vacation, it’s summer, where else would I be) on his Vespa, and I’d be very nervous at the prospect of riding on a Vespa, and he would say, “Shhh, I steer her well.” And I’d trust him, because that’s what you do when you’re on vacation in a fantasyland. You trust the guy with the Vespa.

I’d cling to him as we’d zip throughout the city, all the way out to the beach, where he’d procure wine and cheese from his Vespa. Oh, and there’s a blanket, somehow. Somehow he fit a blanket, because he’s magical Jacques. We’d sit on the blanket and drink wine and he wouldn’t ask me even once, “So what do you do for a living” because he knows such questions are mundane and boring and make me fret about my future. We’d exchange rapid-fire banter like we were in a Nora Ephron film, or hell, an episode of Gilmore Girls. It would be the exact mental stimulation I’d need. He’d keep me on my pedicured toes and then we’d dive in to the water, together, and I wouldn’t feel self conscious about my “bikini body” because he’s already make it clear that he thinks I am the most beautiful woman on Earth. I’d point out that Charlize Theron is also on planet Earth, and he’d say, “Shhhh” and then blow confetti out of his palm.

Because whimsy.

After the beach he’d drop me off at my hotel, always the gentleman, so that I could change for dinner. We’d go somewhere where men are required to wear a jacket and tie — that’s how you know this is a fantasy, as such places don’t exist anymore. But we’d find it and we’d go there, and I would eat and eat and drink and drink and dinner would feel like our own little Disneyland; a place where we can have fun and be indulgent and no one can judge us. He would insist on ordering one dessert with two forks, and the most magical thing about this meal is that at no point during the meal do we ever check our phones, not even once.

I suppose we’d make love that night, and I say “make love” because that’s what he would say, and the best part is, it wouldn’t sound cheesy or creepy or weird. He’d have that uncanny ability to utter the phrase, “shall we make love” and have it sound as though it were a brilliant and novel idea.

And we’d repeat this every day, sometimes changing it up and going to wine tastings, sometimes just spending the whole day in bed, sometimes just wandering around whatever made up city we’re in, and I would never have to plan anything and he’d insist on paying for almost everything, because he’s old school. He’s so old school he’d drape his jacket over a puddle and insist I walk upon it, and I wouldn’t at first, but he’d beg, and I’d say, “C’est la vie” and he’d roll his eyes and call me a “typical American” and we’d bicker but there’s so much passion there that we’d probably wind up eloping by the end of my vacation and we’d realize it was a very very bad mistake but neither of us would want to admit it, so we’d stayed married for 10 years while he had numerous affairs and I pretended not to notice.

Ah, don’t you just love summer flings?!


Originally posted on The Gaggle, by me. Photo by Gordon Parks via LIFE photo archives for Google.


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Time for another RELATIONSHIP VIDEO!


L to R: Me, Kaity, Jordan. Don’t I look just precious??

My roommate, actress Jordan Hinson, and our fabulous friend Kaity, are doing a relationship advice video. I’ve done them before, here, with Max Landis. Now I’m relying on my gal pals to help me out.

Got a question about relationships? Dating? Sex? We’re here to help. There are three ways to send us your question:

  1. Tweet me @apocalypstick.
  2. Send it to me at my formspring.
  3. Comment here.

We will do our best to answer. We will probably be drunk, so get ready for some realness.

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10 Reasons To Buy My Book Now

almie rose book cover i forgot to be famous

So I wrote an eBook, published by Thought Catalog titled, I Forgot To Be Famous. And I thought I’d provide some reasons as to why you should buy my book now. Hear me (read me?) out.

1. It’s cheap.

If you hate it, it will be the cheapest mistake you’ve made in your life. It’s only $5.99 on Amazon, Kobo, and iBooks$5.49 on Barnes and Noble, and only $4.61 on Google Play. That’s cheaper than a martini.

2. It’s short.

I’ve vomited longer than it takes to read this book. You can read it while lounging by the pool, or while you’re sitting in a waiting room. It’s an estimated 53 pages. You can totally knock this off and then brag to people that you read an entire book in an hour. You’re welcome.

3. It’s got good reviews.

It’s got 4.5 stars out of 5 on Amazon, and I swear, not one of those reviews is me pretending to be someone else. You can tell because none of the reviews say “What a rollicking good yarn! — Marge Simpson.” It was also an Item of the Day on HelloGiggles, and a Frisky book recommendation.

4. You’ll feel better about yourself.

The book is a series of essays, most of which are about how I embarrass myself (like the time I got hammered and went up to the actor I had a crush on and told him he had a big head) or get heartbroken (like the time my ex left me for his now A-list actress ex who wound up not taking him back). You’ll read this and think, “Wow! At least I didn’t do THAT.” And somewhere in the world I’ll nod and stroke my chin thoughtfully.

5. It can be your good deed of the day/week/month/year.

Yes, I’m saying if you want good karma, buy my book. Support a struggling writer. Make her mom happy. Be young and free.

6. I can stop acting like this:

Nobody wants this.

7. You don’t have to put on pants to buy it.

You can download this puppy right here, right now, and not even have to put on pants. It will download instantly. Think of all that time you saved not having to put on pants and all that joy you gained not having to interact with real people.

8. You don’t need Kindle to read it.

You can read it on any tablet device or even on your phone or computer with this handy free Kindle app download. I promise. Up until recently, I didn’t even have a Kindle. Now I do and I use it mostly to play Words With Friends. And by “play Words With Friends” I mean “getting beaten, badly, by everyone, at Words With Friends.”

9. It’s a great way to waste time at work.

Don’t you just love wasting time at work? Why not waste it in a more creative, original way, by swapping Reddit or Buzzfeed for my book? If your boss catches you, just tell them, “I’m doing research for our next project.” That line will work for anything.

10. You can find out what When Harry Met Sally… would look like in 2013, or what Mad Men would look like in the 1990’s.

The book contains the essays “When Harry Met Sally… In 2013″ and “Mad Men in the 1990’s”. I tried to capture the tone of the movie and the show, respectively, and I think I did a good job. Plus, you have Don Draper talking about The Mighty Ducks. How could you lose?

Convinced? Click here.

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