Blog Posts by Jessica Ashley, Senior Editor

Oh dear God. Of course, you don't want to calculate all the jelly beans, creamy eggs and even the disgusting below-grade chocolate bunnies you devoured over the weekend. But then, if you're like me, you also weren't so amped to read up ahead of time on how to steer clear of the candy or count out a reasonable portion of Peeps.

Well, honey, there's no use in beating yourself up over peanut butter cups. Hopefully, you enjoyed your Easter indulgence and are ready to put good stuff in your body once again and feel good about doing it.

First, toss out any goodies that are tempting. All that guilt and all those calories aren't worth the price you paid for them. If you are miraculously a master of willpower, portion out a few small pieces into snack-size Ziploc bags and put them in the freezer or somewhere out of view as an occasional treat.

Next, step away from the basket. And the kitchen. In fact, go outside for a walk today during your lunch hour. Remind yourself where the gym is located

It's the end of the week, people, and we know you are burned out on all the crap that normally fills up your days. I suggest you put a very stern look on your face, stare intently at the computer and conjure up your best community theater acting skills to make everyone around you think you are very serious about accomplishing each task on your to-do list before the Friday whistle ring. If you're feeling really good, throw in a head shake or two to suggest that you realize you're the only one hard at work or you could never possibly finish this all in time and you might just need to come into the office over the weekend. Even though your furrowed brow will suggest a healthy work ethic, you will be indulging in some healthy living reading recommendations instead.

It's a good plan, friends. Trust me.

Female athletes from around the world get dusted in the media even though they hurdle many more obstacles. [via Jezebel]

Straight-talk -- even when it's not easy to admit -- about being

There was a time in my life when I was absolutely convinced that I would be really happy if only I had a new job. Another time, it was a home of my own. In other fleeting moments, it has been less jelly in my belly, more sleep, those ridiculously overpriced red patent leather pumps, a bigger paycheck, longer hair. It wasn't that I was necessarily unhappy during those times or in devising those impulsive equations for my own bliss. It was just that, like many of us I imagine, I was focusing on tangible or external ways to be happy or happier rather than finding internal peace, deciding I have enough or digging into what I really want my life to look like.

Those happy-equation days, no surprise, mostly landed on the calendar of my late teens and 20s. While I can't say I was ecstatic to flip the page into my 30s, several years in I do know that my happiness is a lot healthier. I'm fortunate to have women-friends who are in their 40s who show me everyday how fabulous and fierce that

Ahhh, remember the good old 30s? No no no, not YOUR 30s! The 1930s, when Coke was full of the sauce, cigarettes were safe and healthy (not to mention so sexy) and you could lose weight simply by slipping into a sudsy tub of motor-produced bubbles. Sigh, good times.

What? Grandma didn't tell you about leisurely Sunday afternoons spent with a ciggy and a soda just watching the fat go down the drain?

Now you can see the wonder for yourself in this advertisement from 1933 that rose to the surface this week. The ad touts a "motorized electric motor and pump, which connects with a series of long, perforated metal tubes placed in the bottom of the bathtub." Simply add a small scoop of soap to make a thick blanket of bubbles that, according to the ad's claims, were endorsed by "eminent medical authorities" and were great for "reducing" -- a polite, old-timey way of saying weight loss.

As quaint as this is, what makes me laugh most is that a bubble bath contraption actually is on par with

Fashionably Lauren/EtsyIf you are going to crawl out of bed too early on a Saturday morning and choose green tea in a reusable cup over coffee in something horrible eco-disastrous or schlock yourself on a bus 47 blocks after work while your co-workers are slugging 2-for-1 tequila shooters during happy hour, all in the name of your yoga class, you may as well look sassy doing it.

There's no reason to fumble around with your own (cleaned and antibacterial, thank you very much) yoga mat, water bottle, hair clips, wool socks and other accessories you absolutely must-have in order to get centered, breathe and stretch your body. Instead, pack it all into a styley tote not only made just for yogis, but handmade and made with you in mind. Whoever you are inside the studio or out on the street, here are a few totes you'll only find in Etsy's boutiques of artisan-made goodness:


For the sassy girl rocking the tree pose, Funky Chic, $24.

For the wild child working the warrior, Fashionably Lauren, $30

For the softy in

Without getting too graphic, dare I mention those desperate diversions into porta-potties along bike trails, hiking paths and in forest preserves when a full Camelback and several more Gatorades are protesting for an immediate exit? You know those are always the times when the last stop on the urinary track is devoid of toilet paper. Or tissue. Or even a corner of a paper towel, for pity's sake.

These are the times when shorty running shorts, spandex or even the slightest hint of a chafe rule out any thoughts of resorting to the old drip-dry method. What's a girl on the go who has to go to do?

I suppose you could always carry a giant roll of Charmin in your fanny pack. Perhaps tuck a square or forty in your sock. Maybe fashion a headband out of a dual-purpose chamois cloth and pray you don't sweat as much as you know you'll eventually need to pee.

If your potty prep needs to be a wee bit more discreet the next time your workout takes you outdoors, why not disguise your TP in a tube

wmbreedveld/FlickrOnce upon a mid-1990s, I laced up my combat boots and went out for a hike through the town where I was living, my Walkman secured to the waistband of Guess jeans with the big rip in the ass and a mix tape blasting into my seven-times-pierced ears. Dude, that was a killer workout.

My motivation was pure: A freshly-finished cassette tape on the theme of names. I labored over the song choices for days, methodically placing Visions of Johannah just before Adia and just after Me & Bobby McGee. I may have even thrown in a little Jessie by (gulp) Joshua Kadison for obvious (and embarrassingly narcissistic) reasons.

Although my fitness gear may have upgraded from combat boots in the last fifteen years, I know I could still totally jam to that name tape. Sadly, it is probably buried in a box with loads of other mix tape gold under a bed or in a basement somewhere.

In the meantime, this week's Stolen Playlist, "Name Songs for Cool Kids", might just add some fun personalization to your

karindalziel/FlickrMost of the lies I've spouted about my size or weight or eating habits have, quite honestly, been to myself. Let's not kid ourselves, other people don't listen when we preach about our instinctual portion control monitors and how we never, ever, ever would dream of putting a morsel of food on our tongues after Wheel of Fortune starts. I'm convinced we say those things (and when I say we, I mean me me me) for one reason only: to delude ourselves into believing we are way healthier than we actually are.

Some of those lies are productive. I have been so fabulously convincing (at least to myself) that I am a organic-loving, uber-granola healthy eater, that I've spent a hundred dollars on Whole Foods produce without batting an eye. Once you invest your savings in heirloom tomatoes and kale, you pretty much have to ingest all of it, if only to the lie feeling real. In that case, the deception did my body good.

On the other hand, those lies can also be painful. And I'm not even talking