Six Generations of First Born Women

Being born on Picasso's birthday, October 25th, always seemed like an omen to me. I started copying Degas when I was 12. My parents didn't discourage me. As long as it was a "hobby". My mom enrolled me in things like weekend ceramics classes. She came along and liked to select the premade but... Sign in to see full entry.

Getting your license was THE rite of passage at my regional high school in northern New Jersey. We all took driver ed. We had a smoking lounge for students too (would you believe! this was 1962). The PTA and the faculty figured it was better if they had a place for kids to smoke in school instead of... Sign in to see full entry.

It was 1969, my last year of grad school. We'd been married a few months. He was ten years older than me. I hadn't yet figured out the role I was supposed to play with his two kids. His divorce papers were still wet and we were flat broke. Based on the alimony settlement this condition could last... Sign in to see full entry.

At 14 I'd won the battle of control with my parents. I'd exhausted them. School had been my sanctuary, so while my parents bemoaned my behavior, they had no quarrel with my academic achievements. I'd been on those hormone pills to bring my period back just a few months when my personal research... Sign in to see full entry.

Anorexia and bulimia were not in the popular lexicon in 1958. It was the year I turned 13. After a turbulent childhood the struggles with my mother escalated. Being a housewife, a stay at home mom, the kitchen was her seat of operations and food was used as a vehicle to control behavior. Meals where... Sign in to see full entry.