Rocking my favorite white jeans on Chincoteague Island. Image: @TheHappyTalent
I really shouldn't do this, but I'm going to let you in on a super top secret girl secret:
No, women do NOT want pants with pockets.
I Accidentally Used The Men's Room At Disney. I'm Now Convinced Anyone Who Would Do This On Purpose is a Sociopath.
I spend enough time mountain biking, camping, and surfing, that people assume I'm not a "Disney person."
The truth is, I freaking love Disney. As someone who loves music, art, playfulness, psychology, engineering, and business, how could I not be in awe of the magic of this place?
But I did have one experience during my last visit to Disney that was not quite so magical.
I Wrote My Number On His Hand - A Song About The Powerful Intimacy of Small Touches (And The Awesomeness of the Girl Making the First Move)
"What song did you listen to today that made your day?" someone asked me on Quora recently.
I'm going to be honest: it's my own Eva Via original song, I Wrote My Number on His Hand.
Here are three reasons why:
The problem isn't your height. It's your mind.
This San Antonio Bar Understands Happiness Better Than Most Humans (Hint: Happiness is NOT The Same Thing as Fun)
I'm shocked I even have to say this — but it appears I must.
Saying "People With a Cervix" Literally Kills Women (Especially Low-Income, English Learning, and Less Educated Women)
I received a highly offensive reminder from Kaiser Permanente recently: "People with a cervix should receive a screening for cervical cancer every three years."
Setting aside the fact that I am not comfortable receiving care from a medical team that thinks "woman" is a dirty word and would prefer to refer to me as body parts and vaginal discharges, this reminder made me angry because exclusive, woman-erasing language like this literally kills women, harming the most marginalized women the most.
I Love This Coffee Mug - A Song About Love in the Dunes (And Why It's SUPPOSED To Be Exciting to Fall In Love) (And Why It's Important to Daydream)
"Everyone knows you have to wait at LEAST two weeks before you tell someone you love them!" I declared to an audience a few weeks ago at the Apalachicola Ice Company.
"Two weeks!?" someone contested.
"At LEAST two weeks -- but not more than three!"
It was kind of a joke... but kind of serious.
When you're a woman, men perceive everything you do as "flirting."
Smiling politely instead of scowling = flirting.
Making eye contact instead of staring at his shoes = flirting.
Nervously playing with your hair because this dude is standing way too close = flirting.
About the Author
Eva is a content specialist with a passion for play, travel... and a little bit of girl power. Read more >
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