Blog Posts by Glamour Magazine

There's a picture of my boyfriend and I, on his desk at work, from the first time we ever met. In the photo, I am sitting on his lap, grinning like a loon at the camera, because I am sitting on his lap. And he is looking up at me with this look on his face, this perfectly ravenous, smitten look that I still remember, that makes my belly still jump a little bit when I think about it. I remember how incredibly sexy it made me feel, how hot and desirable and unconquerable--though I did want to be conquered, but good.

I love that picture. The thing that gets me about that picture, now, is the fact that I'm a good 65 pounds heavier, there. I was about 200 pounds, when I met my boyfriend for the first time. At 200 pounds, you're not supposed to feel like a sex goddess. You're supposed to be ashamed of your weight and afraid of your body and convinced that no one will ever love you or worship your soft and beautiful naked flesh. I only remember flirting with him, unabashedly, unashamedly,

The big, high-ceilinged, wood-floored, bright and light and open-air loft is mine. She emailed me last night, I had an awkward conversation with her this morning, and at 5:00, today, I go down to the place to sign a lease and walk around the apartment one more time, touching things possessively, daydreaming about the amazing flea-market finds and how I'm going to decorate, sighing big sighs full of pleasure and wonderment, and wondering how the heck I am going to move all my stuff up 43 flights of stairs.

It's funny how those stairs would have been a deal breaker for me a few years ago--there was no way I was going to be able to haul myself up and down every single day. If I did take a walk-up, I would have made any excuse in the whole world to just stay in my apartment and slowly sink into the couch until I become one with the spare change and melting m&ms that had fallen behind the cushions. In fact, that is exactly what happened, the last time I lived on the top floor of a

Hi! It's Lea and I'm over 200 days from my bone marrow transplant--it's amazing how quickly time can go (although at times it has certainly dragged on...). One thing I've realized is that time does not "wait" for you (nor cancer) and you can't hit the "pause" button on life.

When I was engaged to my now-husband, we came up with a "40 by 40" list. It was a list of goals/dreams that we wanted to accomplish by age 40 either individually--like Billy wanting to heli-ski (which I wanted no part of)--or shared hopes of having two children and traveling to China. For the most part this list has had to be scrapped due to us dealing with cancer, transplant, and the limitations placed on my/our lives for over two and a half years. I can't leave the U.S. at this point, as I don't have any immunizations nor can I receive them now, as many are live viruses, which could kill me without much of an immune system!

So, I want to make another list (can you tell I like lists?). This time the

I get into ruts with my fruit buying. A bunch of bananas, a sack of gala apples, sometimes purple grapes, and then I toddle off into the sunset, blind to all the glorious bounty nature has to offer me. Oh, I have been such a fool. And oh, I am grateful to have seen the error of my ways. Yesterday, at the grocery store, I hefted up a sack of strangely expensive grapes, tossed them into my cart. I looked at the bag, thought, those are weird stems, for grapes, and then realized what I had grabbed was actually a bag full of cherries. Crazy! I almost put them back. Even crazier! But I decided to go ahead and take a wacky chance, and now my fingers and lips are stained red because I cannot stop eating them.

They are sweet and crisp and cold from the fridge. Straight out of a bowl, they are the perfect summer breakfast; eating them is a tactile pleasure--plucking off the stem with a tiny snap, biting into the soft flesh and coaxing out the pit with your tongue. They are so sweet and perfect,

This past week I've had multiple patients, from age 17 to 35, tell me they've stopped the birth control pill--or don't want to start it--because they're afraid of gaining weight. Of all of the side effects attributed to the pill, weight gain causes the most universal fear. I'm glad to be able to tell my patients that the pill will NOT make them gain weight. When they look back at me doubtfully, I tell them three things:

• A fantastic scientific review looked at the best studies that have been published, and didn't find any major effect of the birth control pill on weight. As part of my training, I did a review of almost 200 studies of "observational" trials, and I found the same thing--most women did not gain weight beyond what's expected, about a pound or two a year.

• In many studies where one group of women used birth control pills, and another group of women used placebos, women in BOTH groups had similar effects on weight. Some women gained weight, and some women lost, but most

Much of our family lives seven hours away, and with no airport nearby, we have to make the drive several times a year. To keep our 5-year-old son occupied we play the superhero matchup game, which consists of us taking turns throwing out two superheroes and debating which one would win in a match and why. It can get quite technical debating whose powers would win, which means less time asking, "Are we there yet?"

--Lauren Norris, Cookie reader

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I love birds - who doesn't? Well, I'm sure SOME people don't love birds, but ... Anyway.

I want birds to be happy in my garden, so I have a lovely birdbath for them, but that birdbath is a big fake-out. After a couple of years of being eaten by mosquitoes (I am fairly certain NOBODY loves mosquitoes, except for maybe some type of scientist who has to love awful things, in order to study them for the benefit of mankind) I realized my birdbath was a breeding ground for skeeto larvae. Duh. Took me long enough.

At first I thought I could empty it every night and re-fill it in the morning. Three days of doing that kicked that idea to the curb - what a pain in the ass it was! The dish part of the bath was heavy, and then re-centering it on the pedestal while leaning over my aloes and echeverias was really annoying. I know. I'm a baby. Maybe that was that for the old birdie pool.

But I like my old Smith&Hawken birdbath. It isn't really my style anymore, but it was the