Emma McLaughlin

You should totally get implants," she said admiringly in the mirror. I shake my head. "I don't yet know what I'm going to do with my life, Diane. But I'm hoping being shaped like a barbell could only be a hindrance.

... keeping her wild-honey-and-chamomile-soaked hair from falling into her oatmeal-and-yogurt face mask

Screw sharks a Transformer could be stretching up on its tippy toes and would still have a mile of cover to eat me.

We 'chicks' have munched our popcorn while romantic comedies became just comedies, and then each female protagonist got recast for Matthew McConaughey or Seth Rogan.

My writing partner, Nicki, and I became obsessed with a monologist who performs unscripted shows equipped with nothing more than scribbled bullet points and a glass of water. We wrote him a fan letter and found ourselves sharing lunch and eventually a friendship.

The more Mommy blogs going nuclear over playground etiquette I read and birthday parties of glazed adults munching cupcakes like demoralized zombies I attend, I realize this is what my friends who conceived before me meant by, 'You just won't care.'

As a rule, I try to steer clear of opinions pertaining to your parenting. I assume you're doing the best you can, and God bless.