Just One More Reason to Love Curvy Women

A Big Butt Is A Healthy Butt: Women With Big Butts Are Smarter And Healthier

Scientists from the University of Oxford have discovered that women with larger than average butts are not only increasingly intelligent but also very resistant to chronic illnesses.

According to ABC News, the results found that women with bigger backsides tend to have lower levels of cholesterol and are more likely to produce hormones to metabolize sugar. Therefore, women with big butts are less likely to have diabetes or heart problems.

And having a big butt requires an excess of Omega 3 fats, which have been proven to catalyze brain development. The researchers also found that the children born to women with wider hips are intellectually superior to the children of slimmer, less curvy mothers.

Eyeonthenut reports that the team analyzed data from 16,000 women.

From ABC News:

“Professor Konstantinos Manolopoulos, who leads the team at the University of Oxford, says that women with more fat on the buttocks have lower levels of cholesterol and glucose.”
Having a big butt also favors leptin levels in the female body, which is a hormone responsible for regulating the weight, and the dinopectina, a hormone with anti-inflammatory, vascular-protective and anti-diabetic attributes. The adipose tissue of the buttocks traps harmful fatty particles and prevents cardiovascular disease.

Eyeonthenut also cites similar studies conducted by universities in California and Pittsburgh not too long ago that discovered that women with bigger butts, wide hips and smaller waists may even live longer as well.

*This study did not include fake butts.*


Article by Sean Levinson

What is a 'True Friend'?

I should know....I've got a few

P.s.
because
N E G - A- T I V E
People
need
DRAMA
like Oxygen

by....
Staying Posi+ive

It will take your breathe away....
and theirs

Is Bigger always Better?

In Map Terms?
Yes!

Why?
Because people prioritize by/in size.
What's bigger is more Important....and so on...
Things with less significance are (listed) smaller....

But great things can come in small packages.

Take for example the country of Belgium.
It's a lot smaller (spatially) than Peru...
Roughly a third of the size of Peru.

But, I luvs my Belgium folks....just as much as my Peruvian cool cats!


http://www.upworthy.com/we-have-been-mislead-by-an-erroneous-map-of-the-world-for-500-years

GiveBackFilms Rock!

These guys here...
Give Back to the those that least expect it.
Just like I do, just like I have...and will continue to do so.

http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=G65z8p1YNhw&desktop_uri=%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DG65z8p1YNhw

Questions that Single People would rather not answer

Spinsters are Sexy!
Good, now that I have your attention...listen close...

I recently ran into a woman who I hadn't seen in forever. We went to high school together. We had, apparently, missed each other at high school reunions, so there was a lot to catch up on.    I'm always interested in "whatever happened to" stories, so I was looking forward to hearing hers.

Except I never really got the chance to hear much of her story, because she got stuck in mine. And I don't mean she was stuck in what I consider my pretty interesting life. No, she was stuck on the fact that I had never married. "What happened?" she asked.

I tried to blow it off by laughingly replying that "I'd been having too much fun." But it didn't work. She dug in with more of the same question, just re-worded... which is what has led me to penning this article.

With the release of the 2010 U.S. Census and various other research studies on singles (The Pew Research Institute, just to name one), we all know by now that there are lots of single women out there. My being single, as in 'never married,' just shouldn't be that astounding. We're everywhere.

But for those who still get tripped up over meeting a woman who has never been married, here are five questions that I (and women like me) would like not to be asked again:

1.  "What's wrong with you?" Usually paraphrased as, "Why aren't you married?" but we know what you really mean. Sometimes, it's the tone in your voice that gives it away. My answer to the voiced question is "marriage isn't for everyone." (I know that, and so do you.) The answer to the implied question is "nothing, really."  I know that neither of these responses satisfies, but they'll just have to do, because they're the truth.


2.  "Who will take care of you when you're sick/old?" (especially if you also don't have kids). I honestly don't know the answer to this question. You don't know the answer to this question, either. We both know what we would hope to happen and they are the same. We hope that we'll be tenderly cared for by people who love us. This might include your husband and/or kids... but it might not. Things happen and there are no guarantees.


3. "Do you... um... like men?" Meaning either "Are you gay?" or "Are you one of those angry feminist types?"or both. Yes, I like men. No, I'm not gay. And I'm not angry.


4. "You're not being too picky, are you?"  I never really know how to respond to this one. Sometimes, I wish the asker had been more picky in her choice of mate. Most of the time I just laugh, as I think about some of the characters I've had as mates. I don't think anyone who knows me well thinks I've been too picky. In fact, maybe I should have been more picky. I tend to enjoy men who are the opposite of steady and stable, though I think steady and stable probably are good husband characteristics.


5.  "What happened?!"    See 1.


Some of my writings on this topic are feigned outrage, because I do kind of get it. Though being married at this moment in time is slipping away as the statistical norm, it very much remains the societal norm. Adults are still expected to get married. And marriage can be a really good thing. I just want to do my part to help people to acknowledge that it's not the only thing.


Article by
Eleanore S. WellsSingles expert. Author, The Spinsterlicious Life http://EleanoreWells.com

Raising your Confidence

Confidence, to paraphrase George Orwell writing in 1984,"...is one of those interesting words that have two contradictory meanings. Applied to an opponent, it is abuse; applied to someone you agree with, it is praise." Confidence, in many ways, is a uniquely American obsession; mired in the murk of our DNA is this national hunger to be viewed as confident, and thus reap the perceived rewards. This is America, we remind ourselves, we should all be exceptional, and have our own talk shows and line of designer clothing...right? Right. Or at least, yes we all need to be confident to do the things within us, not just rappers, politicians and other made-for-TV entertainers who leak confidence.

Being confident isn't just mandatory for North West's daddy and the people who clog up the Interwebs with cat memes: everyone needs to be confident. Confidence is what makes, or breaks, your career. Let's just cut to the chase: without confidence, we're all doomed. Doomed to remain stuck in the here and now of what passes for our personal existence, blaming the haters and/or Congress for standing in our way. Let's be honest: the only person standing in our way is ourselves. Who else could prove such an inventive, imaginative enemy? Haters? Please. They're too busy endlessly prowling the chamber of horrors that stands in for their childhoods, to be able to bother with anyone else.

Why does confidence matter? Confidence matters because without it you won't get the education you deserve. Without that education, you won't be able to go after the career you want; you'll waste your own time assuming, before you even write one cover letter, that there's no way you'd ever be hired for the job you want. Or, even worse, without confidence in your skills, you won't even attempt to figure out what it is you really want to do, since you'll assume you'd never get the chance to do it. Without confidence, when you're offered a big promotion, that could change the course of your life, you'll be too busy detailing all the reasons you can't do the job, to allow yourself to just try.

Without confidence in yourself, your abilities and your unique contributions, you won't start a business, or learn a foreign language, or create the art inside of you. Without confidence, you're doomed to be your own worst critic, throwing every good idea into the incinerator before it can ever be incubated. Without confidence, you'll miss out on the love, family, maybe even the children you might have had, because you'll assume that the cute girl at the bookstore would be outraged, outraged if you spoke to her. Actually, it'd probably make her day. That book you've been talking about for years, while you waste hours on Facebook? If you had confidence in yourself, you'd realize that the stories inside of you are valuable and you'd commit to telling them.

A handful of years ago, I went to a celebration of Kurt Vonnegut's life in Bloomington, Indiana. One part of the exhibit was devoted to the 800 (give or take a few hundred) rejection letters Vonnegut had received before finding a publisher for his first book. What a liberating experience to witness Vonnegut's disdain for the people who had tried to dismiss him! He believed in his talent, in his story, and that was all that mattered. To be able to get 800 rejection letters and keep writing and submitting? That's the life-changing value of confidence. Without it, you and I would never have had the pleasure of reading Breakfast of Champions.

Your lack of confidence therefore doesn't just implicate you; it carries over to how you live your life, the choices you make and the choices you decline. It affects the relationships you cultivate, the primary one being with yourself. Your lack of confidence affects what you put out into the world, and thus what you get back.

Confidence is not arrogance, it's a realization of all you can do, and an understanding of all that you could do if you commit to yourself. Picasso said, "I'm always doing that which I cannot do, in order that I may learn how to do it." I don't know; some people kind of consider him a genius, so hey, clearly he must have some useful hints, right? I'm being deliberately factitious because I know some people are rolling their eyes and saying, "Sure but he's Picasso; easy for him!" Right. Then again, at one point he was just Pablo, or Pablito. Just a kid in the neighborhood who liked to draw. Not an expert, not a genius... just some kid playing around with art and seeing what he could get away with.

That was my rant. If you agree, here's three ways to start raising your own confidence:

1. Believe you have something important to contribute, and give your work the attention and respect it deserves. If you don't respect your work -- i.e. YOURSELF -- why should anyone else?

2. Absolutely stop comparing yourself to others. I have clients who want to write, for example, but from the get-go they're comparing their rough drafts to For Whom The Bell Tolls, or something. That's a wee bit discouraging. I promise you: Hemingway wasn't born Hemingway. It was a long process of writing, and drinking, making sexist comments and killing a lot of animals. And more writing. Looking to compare yourself to someone? How about comparing yourself to the person you were yesterday?

3. The former Czech political playwright/prisoner, Vaclav Havel, who went on to become that country's president once said," The more we did, the more we were able to do." One day, I'll get that tattooed on my forearm, so when clients mewl, "But... but how do I get started?," I can just get them in a headlock and bam! Clarity. We get started by (wait for it) getting started. That's how everyone else does it. Don't worry about where the process is going to take you. Just sit down and start changing the current of your life. Today. Right now.

I wrote this because I'm confident you need to know it. I'm also confident that you'll let me know what you think in the comments, or email me at carlotazee@gmail.com!

 

Follow Carlota Zimmerman on Twitter: www.twitter.com/kittenmagix

Random Acts of Kindness

Any parent will tell you that getting your kids to behave while out to dinner is no easy feat. When you're a single mom with three kids -- including two with special needs -- that task becomes infinitely more challenging.

Still, that's exactly what one Raleigh, North Carolina single mom has done every Friday night for the last few years, taking her family out to a new restaurant every week despite several moves and a messy divorce, ABC 11 reports.

Last week, while at a local Pizza Hut with her youngest kids, the divorced mom (who asked to remain anonymous) approached a man sitting in a booth nearby and apologized in advance for the noise she knew her kids were likely to make, the local ABC affiliate reports. The man assured the woman that it would be no problem and that as a father himself, he could relate.

It wasn't until after he left that the man's kindness was revealed: before leaving the restaurant, he made arrangements to pay for the family's meal, purchased a Pizza Hut gift card for them, and left the single mom of three a note that brought her to tears:

"I do not know your back story, but I have had the privilege of watching you parent your children for the past 30 minutes. I have to say thank you for parenting your children in such a loving manner.
I have watched you teach your children about the importance of respect, education, proper manners, communication, self control, and kindness all while being very patient. I will never cross your path again but am positive that you and your children have amazing futures.

Keep up the good work and when it starts to get tough do not forget that others may be watching and will need the encouragement of seeing a good family being raised. God bless! -Jake."

The note, written on the backs of receipts, came as a complete surprise to the single mom.

"You just don't know what people go through. Here I've had the worst few years of my life and I never get recognition like this, I just do what I can to get by," the woman told ABC 11. "I want him and his family to know that he's awesome. You never know who's watching you."

Perks of being Single

Non single folks...be aware there are plenty of singledom perks....
Plenty!

We're not going to cut corners here: Finalizing your divorce sucks, plain and simple. You struggled to make it work with your (now ex) spouse for years. You uncovered the half-truths and the deceptions, and at times even made excuses for them; you doggedly tried to brush off concerned questions from your family and friends. And while you didn't want to do it, you knew it had to be done. You filed for divorce.

And now that you've received those final divorce papers, it's natural to want to curl up into a ball of despair, mourning the loss of your relationship and fretting about what life's next chapter has in store for you. But now that you're free from an unhappy marriage, it's the time to give yourself some TLC! To get you motivated, here are some study-backed facts that'll make you feel better about being newly single again.

1. You Can Be Happier 
So you're divorced and feeling doomed to the single life, right? Don't worry. Despite how you may feel now, odds are your depression won't last forever. Maybe this bit of news will lift your spirits: Researchers at London's Kingston University found that women feel much happier for up to five years following the end of their marriages. And no, it wasn't just because they had finally broken free of their unhappy marriages. They felt more content than they had in their entire lifetimes. So what were you saying about "marital bliss," again?

2. You Will Be Healthier Than If You Stayed Unhappily Married 
Researchers love to praise marriage as a health-boost (they clearly were never stuck in a miserable marriage.) And the rest of us tend to think that a marriage is better than no marriage at all. And while all the stats and studies love to tout the benefits of being hitched, we often forget that it's not about the marriage as much as it is the quality of the marriage. There's been plenty of science to prove that an unhappy, conflict-riddled marriage can be worse for you health-wise than if you were single. And if you hadn't broken up, you would still be at an increased risk for heart disease, cancer, arthritis, diabetes and depression.

3. You Can Avoid Financial Frustrations Of Married Couples 
It's the common belief that getting married can be one of the smartest financial decisions you can make: a surplus tax break, not to mention cutting expenses in half. And yes, your divorce was costly, but there are some instances in which that divorce could be financially advantageous. Enter the Alternative Minimum Tax or AMT. The AMT was originally designed to prevent the wealthy from taking so many deductions that they end up paying little or no taxes, but it's unintentionally hurting more middle-income married couples. And that's just the start. From tax breaks to health insurance, it proves that being hitched doesn't always pay off. And while we definitely aren't suggesting that you sacrifice a happy union for a little extra cash (you could also say that's abusing the system), if you're already divorced, isn't it nice to know that your one step ahead in avoiding these insane (yet legal) loopholes?

4. Your Kids (If You Have Them) Will Be Better Off 
Don't think that just because you try to "stick it out" for the kids that they will be happier. Kids will appreciate two homes where Mommy and Daddy are separately happy over one home where Mommy and Daddy are hurling insults at each other and using them as pawns in their mind games. Once you and your ex split, the tension is gone and the kids can breathe again. By divorcing from an unhappy marriage, you're showing that you deserve to be in a supportive relationship and that's the best thing you can model for your little ones.

5. You'll Be Happier In Your Next Marriage 
If you fall in love again, don't be intimidated by the idea that you don't have what it takes to make a marriage work. You actually have better odds at making your marriage last having been married once before. In fact, a study found that people who remarry are less likely to get divorced. According to the Marriage Foundation, 45 percent of first-time marriages are destined for the divorce courts. Compare that to 31 percent of second-time newly weds ... how do you like your odds, now?

6. You'll Have An Easier Retirement 
As we've already mentioned, we rarely escape from an unhappy marriage expense free. However, a study proves that divorced women are often better off in late age. Researchers at the University of Connecticut, Social Security Administration, and National Institute of Aging dug back through 40 years of Census Bureau and Social Security data to see how divorce affected women's earnings over their lifetimes. It turns out that the earnings growth was greatest for divorced women who never remarried. They were more likely to delay drawing Social Security benefits, resulting in higher lifetime benefits than married women. Financial independence is worth it!



Written by Alexandra Churchill for YourTango.com

Proud to be Single

I’m 23, I just graduated from university, and I’m single.
Many of my friends are married, and a few are starting to have children. And I feel as if I just graduated from high school again. You could say my life is in transition. And it’s true; I am in the middle of shifting myself from university to the career world. But I’ve started to wonder about whether it’s right to refer to my singleness as an in-between stage.
What exactly am I in-between again?
“It’s the first day of the rest of my life.” I recently I heard someone on TV say this about her wedding day, and it really bothered me. While I don’t want to discount the gift of marriage, I must say I’m a bit confused and frustrated with this sentiment. I’ve heard the cliché before, but I suddenly felt the weight of it. As if it equates marriage as the start of life, or at least the good part.
Don’t misunderstand my frustration; I think there is a beautiful element of starting a new family with your spouse. I’m all for godly marriage. But what I’m afraid of is viewing life through the lens of marriage as the goal. For waiting to get married before life starts.
I’m afraid, because I’m afraid it has happened to me. I’ve been living like I’m waiting for someone to get here. And it isn’t Jesus.
I’ve wasted my time, my energy, and my emotions on this concept that singleness is just a waiting room for a relationship. I’m tired of this view that my life begins when I wake up next to my husband, because I’m pretty sure my life began 23 years ago when my mom gave birth. And this mentality has robbed my joy.
As much as I’d like to place all the blame on Christian culture, the perpetual “Have you met anyone yet?” question the world asks me, and the reality that my Facebook feed looks more like a Pinterest wedding board these days, I am convicted of my own failures.
I’ve been living like God owes me something. Like he hasn’t held up his end of the deal. He has given me the desire for relationship and marriage, and he just hasn’t followed through.
I’ve been living under the impression that I deserve a relationship.
I’d be lying if I said Christian culture does much to inhibit this mentality. There seems to be a deep understanding and appreciation for the gift of marriage, but not so much for the gift of singleness (if it’s treated like a gift at all). Rather, singleness is something to be cured. Like I’ve got a disease, and introducing me to your single friend might perhaps cure us both. Singleness is the lump of coal, the gift that is never on your Christmas list.
There are at least a handful of us standing around, wondering what happened. (After all, I have been pretty nice this year.)
But it’s never been about being entitled, or even about being nice. I have to stop thinking that I’m doing something wrong here.
Well actually I am, but it isn’t about fixing something that will magically make a boyfriend appear. It is about changing the direction of my heart.
 “I’d rather have the right God than the wrong man.” –- Christen Rapske
People talk all the time about pursuing people or things for the wrong reasons, but maybe we pursue God for the wrong reasons. Maybe subconsciously I’ve been treating God like he’s a vending machine. And my pursuit of him has really been a pursuit of someone else.
When did Christ cease to be enough?
And when did I stop finding my identity, self-worth, and fulfillment in Him, only to place my life on hold for someone I’ve never even met?
Each day is a gift, and I’m not waiting for it to get here. It is present in every moment, and it begins anew daily.  Man-less or not, I want to wake up every morning and be excited because I get to spend my day with the God who created the universe.
And I want to do that for the rest of my life.


Written by Rachel Selinger

Why Are Cats so Badass

Just see for yourself

http://www.yourdailymedia.com/post/10-reasons-why-cats-are-badasses/?utm_source=crowdignite.com&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=crowdignite.com

Truths, with Warts

I have always believed that people...for better or for worse, whatever the reason(s) maybe...come into our lives for a specific purpose...a lesson of sort to be had.

It can be a given, that our paths...at some point...

In our lives, we met someone...

New...someone interesting...

Someone whom you knew would benefit and grow to a better emotional place...as you would in return.  Whatever the circumstances might have been...it never materialized...therefore, there was nothing to speak of....

You can't ever force anyone down a path that they are not ready to walk.

This Breakup Letter Is Seriously Epic

Recently, a dear friend shared a story with YourTango.com of the abrupt ending to a seemingly blissful, loving relationship with her boyfriend of nine months. There were red flags, she says, but none so glaring that they gave her pause. Then one day, bam! He just wasn't feeling it anymore. "But I'm committed to a friendship," said the oh-so-generous beau-no-more. Six weeks later, she discovered (through a twist of Facebook fate) that this dude had been having an affair with his most recent ex on and off the whole damn time ("Her life is chaos too, so she gets it," he would later explain). Post-confrontation, our friend composed an opus of a text message so burningly poetic, we simply had to publish it. Behold the most epic f*ck-you breakup letter ever. 

(And yes, she sent it.)

"Don't worry, darling. My anger won't last long. I know your life is already your punishment. A 40-year-old man of mediocre accomplishment who's incapable of true intimacy, who casually lies and cheats, who's being sued by his own aunt, who hardly has the love of his own family, who has few friends and no community to speak of, who's been living in his musty, forgotten childhood home in suburban New Jersey for almost a year, alone, at 40, who isn't even close to his ultimate dream of a book deal, who is frail, insecure, pathetic, tortured, has no moral fiber, who's dissatisfied with his career and is constantly traveling to corporate wastelands.

And then a woman comes along and tries to love him, encourage his dreams, invite him to be her "other whole," and he repays her kindness with lies, secrecy, a handful of sh*tty chocolates he probably picked up at the airport on his way home from France, an unceremonious breakup based on his own inability to get close to someone who has her sh*t together and with whom he could have a real partnership, and tops it off by having an affair with his ex the entire time — at an apartment just ten blocks away from his girlfriend's. And projects onto his girlfriend that she was the untrustworthy one. And tells her the breakup was about "something I just can't put my finger on."

This is who you are: an aging, sad, sneaky, devious man who travels from one hotel to another, putting on a face for strangers, living out of a suitcase, having no real home and no connections, lying to others, lying to himself. So I don't have to humiliate you. Your entire life is one big humiliation. And no matter how much you meditate, do yoga and undergo therapy, this will never change. This is who you are."

Warmth

Intertwined like a nest, our bodies lay as one...
Linked, not only by body...but also in soul
The heat flows, rumbles roll...
Your gentle touch, your soft delicate skin
Mirror my rugged physique, my indestructible frame
My solid, strong feel...with your seductive finesse 
We swim in a sea, funneled to a sordid paradise...
Exotic, passionate...incandescent in its lecherous isolation
Fueled with fire, bathed in a charged indestructible wave
Oncoming with fury...not even this tsunami can separate us...
No force will come between us

Can One be 'Too Strong'?

The Surprising Thing I Learned From Being 'Too Strong'

People spend a lot of time being told to be calm. The idea is so ubiquitous, it's presented in nearly every aspect of our everyday lives. We see countless books, tweets, movies, memes, statuses and television shows about keeping control of our emotions. We are bombarded by a chorus of "don't let him know he made you cry," "don't let her know it bothers you," "be strong," "just forget about it" and my personal favorite, "just ask like you don't care, and eventually, they will notice and then they will (insert objective here)"; which, by the way, seems a little manipulative. I can't tell if it's art imitating life, or the other way around. But somewhere along the way, true emotion got the boot.

So, why do we say this to each other? Or more importantly, to ourselves? Is it because we don't want to argue? Because we don't want to risk showing someone our true emotions? Because we are worried about feeling sad? Or maybe we a little worried to feel anything truly painful.

These phrases are tossed around today with such ease that they are now the new norm. We have come to a point in our lives where showing emotion -- or simply feeling it -- has been deemed unacceptable. We wear our stoicism like a badge of honor, and have trouble understanding someone who doesn't. When people are visibly upset, they are quickly labeled as erratic, overly-emotional or worse.

I am not immune to this "movement."

A few years ago, a friend of mine died. We weren't the best of friends and we didn't grow up together, but it was someone I knew for a few years. Someone I knew well. When I found out they died, I didn't cry. Don't get me wrong, I was sad. Very sad. Especially because I had spoken to this person two nights before it happened and couldn't wrap my head around the idea that they were gone. But I didn't cry. I felt empty, like a robot. I would stay up nights wondering what's wrong with me? Why aren't I crying? The guilt consumed me for not crying. I was extremely upset, even questioning how someone so young could have been taken so early. But still, the tears did not come.

And then I thought back to other difficult situations I had been facing lately. I finally realized I hadn't cried for a few years. I was constantly being told how tough I was. How strong I was for not getting emotional when a guy I liked would dump me. Or for holding it together at a funeral when a family member had passed away. Female friends would say they wished they could be more like me, strong. But I don't know if I was strong. I didn't feel strong, I felt numb. Cold. I was constantly validated for being reserved. But there's a thin line between being reserved and being repressed. Anytime a small wave of emotion would hit me, my first instinct would immediately be to hide it. To laugh it off or have a drink. After all, it was what I saw all day long. Everywhere I looked.

From a small age, we are told to stop crying, to act more maturely. "Act like a lady" or "be a man." Grow up. But when did being a grown up mean being unemotional?

I wasn't the only one in my life acting this way. As we reached our mid to late twenties, my friends had taken on new temperaments too. The older we got, the more detached their emotions became. I started to miss them. I grieved over the ambiguous loss of my once charismatic friends. But I couldn't blame them. It was the world we lived in, and we all knew we stood the chance of being eaten alive if we weren't too careful.

Now, don't get me wrong; there are obviously places and situations in which our emotions should remain checked, such as the work environment and school. But if you're out to dinner with your best friend and you just had a horrible day, it's OK to stop repeating how "fine" you are.

A few months passed, and I finally cried. I was out at a bar, feeling particularly low and I left to go home early. The second I got into my car, I broke down. I cried for what felt like an hour. I cried about my friend's death, I cried about where I was in my life, I cried for relief. When I was finished, I drove home. I never told my friends it happened.

Over the course of the next year, I realized I couldn't live like this anymore. I couldn't be on point 24 hours a day. I had to make a change. I started being honest with myself and others about when things bothered me. I stopped dating men who enabled my detached personality and started looking for someone I could be relaxed with. I stopped constantly trying to gain the upper hand in every situation in life and just actually started to be myself.

I'm still not 100% there yet. There are still moments when I want to flee, to close everything off and prove how strong I am to the world, even though and the end of the day it really doesn't matter. I'm not sure any of us are being graded on how tough we are. I think we could all use a breather from trying to be perfect, and just be ourselves a little more often. And yes, I know I sound like an after school special, and for that I'm sorry, but I don't think repeating, "Smile, so no one knows you're crying," is really doing any of us any good in the long run.

Article by Jill Knapp

Wine + Women = Company

Why Women Have A Complicated Love Affair With Wine

There are few relationships more complicated than that between women and wine.

Yet to me, she is my mistress....my lone consultatory source of insight and inspiration.
On all and/or any given days, she's there...sitting all nice and red...ready to be pour into my soul.
Even on those days littered with gloom,
Just as Eager as...
On my days of celebration...
Regardless of the Reason, Day or Place...
Wine keeps me company and shares her tales...



Mine started at the age of 14 in Italy, where I was gallivanting around Rome, Florence and Venice on a not particularly well-supervised spring break trip through my high school. In the evenings we were allowed to go off on our own for dinner, and being American teenagers in a foreign country where the drinking age is a loose suggestion and fermented grapes are practically a national treasure, we ordered wine. Lots of it.

At 14, drinking wine feels like a small, sophisticated rebellion. It's classier than stealing your parents' Wild Turkey from the basement and trying to mix it with orange juice (spoiler alert: not a great combination), but still produces the desired tipsyness and slightly lowered inhibitions. As I grew up, my drinking habits did as well.

Wine became a staple of "girls nights" and conversation-heavy dinners during college, and office happy hours once I joined the workforce. When I moved apartments in May, the home decor purchase I was most excited about was the wall-mounted wine rack, which my roommate and I always have stocked with Trader Joe's prosecco, pinot grigio and vinho verde. After a stressful day, I love dipping into our supply while sitting at the dining room table rehashing the previous 12 hours with my roommate. With a few sips and some conversation, my anxieties seem to lift.

As someone who is solidly a part of the generation of women who watched "Sex and the City" a good 15 years before entering their 30s -- and as someone who aspired to be one of those fabulous New York ladies who had deep conversations with her girlfriends over drinks -- I've always seen wine as primarily a means for connection and relaxation. It's also always struck me as a very female ritual. (An idea, of course, happily perpetuated by marketers.) Over the last few years, the "ladies drinking wine" trope has inundated the popular culture. A glass of wine is Tami Taylor's nightly ritual, Maya Rudolph tells Kristin Wiig about her engagement at their "magazine and wine party" in "Bridesmaids," and the "Cougar Town" crew guzzles it on such a regular basis that when Courteney Cox's character, Jules, decides to abstain for a few days her best friend tells her: "Nothing could ever make me stop loving you, except you not drinking."



At dinner with friends (and wine) in 2012.

Wine means different things to different women. It may make us feel beautiful, or be what helps us calm down or open up or connect with our peers. Often women's emotional connection to wine is benign and positive, but as with any substance, there is a darker side to the daily rite. And whereas no one would hesitate to declare that someone who was kicking back glasses of vodka on the rocks every night had a problem, doing so with wine seems more harmless and is unquestionably more socially acceptable.

Over the last decade many female writers have discussed the way alcohol -- and wine in particular -- has become a way for women to get through the day, especially when that day includes an increasing number of tasks and roles and the pressure to complete them all with a smile on your face.

"Whether the effect is physiological or psychological, a glass of wine calms me: Okay, I can handle this if I just have a drink first," wrote Laurie Abraham in an essay excerpted by Elle in 2006. "A drink is the modern (time-worn) 'mother's little helper': our generation's answer to Valium." And the head of the women's addiction program at Toronto's University Health Network told The Daily Beast in October 2013 that the one common thread she sees among the professional women who enter her program is "perfectionism." Wine companies have exploited this truth and begun crafting marketing campaigns that explicitly address the stresses that working mothers feel. In 2012 the New York Times reported that wine brand Cheateau Ste. Michelle introduced an ad campaign targeting women, which included the copy: "It's where you become you again -- not mom, not colleague, not chauffeur, cook or cleaner-upper."

I think the temptation to self-medicate exists not just among mothers -- I have yet to become part of that demographic -- but also among unmarried, 20-something working women (and men). A sentiment I hear echoed often amongst my peers is that we drink more now than we did in college. (At least more frequently if not more quantity-wise.) Often this drinking is used as a way to cope with post-collegiate uncertainties -- at work and in our love lives.

A few months ago on a Sunday I woke up feeling incredibly anxious for no particular reason. As morning turned to afternoon and my entire body was still in overdrive, I made my way to the roof of my building with a neighbor and proceeded to drink a half a bottle of my favorite white wine. It was only after I stood up and went back to my apartment in the early evening that I realized I was drunk. There was absolutely nothing glamorous or relaxing about stumbling into bed and passing out at 8 p.m., only to wake up Monday morning with a pounding headache. I know I'm not the only one of my friends who has had an experience like this.

I still maintain that sipping a glass of wine with friends is one of life's greatest pleasures. The ritual nature of an after-work drink is both what makes it so comforting -- and potentially dangerous. I want my love affair with wine to be slow and steady. And like any romance, I want to want it -- not need it.



Article by Emma Gray

Should there be a Revolution?

Russel Brand Thinks So!

Heck, if the United States of America

http://gawker.com/russell-brand-may-have-started-a-revolution-last-night-1451318185?utm_campaign=socialflow_gawker_facebook&utm_source=gawker_facebook&utm_medium=socialflow

Who is Beautiful?

I'm Not Gonna Tell You You're Beautiful


I used to wait for my roommates to go to sleep so I could creep down the hallway into the kitchen and fill a bowl with food.

It was odds and ends of the things I could find in the fridge and I would eat until I reached the bottom of the bowl. I never told anyone how I was a vacuum cleaner at night, that I was trying to fill some kind of emptiness inside of me. It was a secret sworn between me and cutlery and the 1 a.m. hour.

I'd cry and I'd cry and I'd cry. And no one knew the desperation that visited me when I no longer knew how to control myself. How I just wanted to shrink smaller, smaller, smaller until I could disappear. Who taught me to be less? Who taught me to be so fragile?

My mama is like a gust of wind. She is stronger than I know how to be. She is all the sorts of love you wish you could grow up and become. She never taught me to be small, so I never learned it from her. My mama had promised me the stars and I just settled for the crumbs.

My mama would probably say:

Beautiful is loud footsteps. Knowing the weight of your own footsteps, not your torso. Beautiful is knowing that you came here to make a ruckus. Beautiful is being so big and bright that it makes it impossible for people to take their eyes off you. Always they will wonder, what will that one do next?
When I said I was struggling, people would tell me I was beautiful.

"Don't worry, you're beautiful. You're strong."

Like just telling me "You're beautiful" was enough. I couldn't help but laugh. I was uncontrollable. I was sad. I was a sometimes, some days, most days animal.

Beautiful was a word that I'd heard so many times -- flung from girl to girl in some shallow exchange of words that was rarely ever meant -- that it lost all meaning to me. Beautiful is a bound-up, broken word in a culture that matches it against thigh sizes and blemish-free skin.

The world had drained out all the metrics of measuring beautiful and replaced it with scales and calorie counts.

I'm not gonna stand here and tell you that you're beautiful, like that's gonna fix all your problems. Sorry, I just won't. I'm not going to tell you of the worth you have. I'm not gonna wait for you to come to grips with whoever meets you on the other side of the mirror. I'm not gonna tell you that loving your curves makes everything better. Because what if it doesn't? And what if you're still sorry over that cookie you had two hours ago?

I'm just going to tell you that you're kind of strange. You're kind of quirky in the sense that no one ever fully understands the person that you are so you carry it like a secret between your smirked lips. Yes, you've been waiting for a moment to prove people wrong. I cannot wait to see that day.

You're weird. You're a little odd. You've never fully fit in but you are finally coming to grips with the fact that you don't really want to be a follower. And baby, if you don't want to be something, then just don't be it. People will tell you it is not as simple as that. But what if they're wrong? And what if it is? Maybe we are all just 30 seconds away from stopping something for good and being different people today.

I'm not gonna tell you who to keep in your life. I'm no expert in always keeping the best company. But I am gonna say that someone out there believes in you. Someone out there needs you alive and breathing today. I am gonna say that someone else out there, they don't see what you are. They never have. They never will. I'm not gonna tell you to cut the cord or break the tie but I am gonna wonder why you're clipping your own wings though... I cannot do anything but wonder why you're letting someone snuff the light out from your eyes. You could be so bright, you could be so bright.

I'm not gonna tell you that you're beautiful. You have not needed to know you're beauty so much as you've needed to see that you're capable.

I'm not going to tell you to just get over it. If it were that easy, maybe we'd all do it. We'd have no issues. We'd have no internal struggles. We wouldn't walk this line of good and evil every day. But I am gonna tell you that no bone inside of you has ever been a mistake. And no struggle inside of you has ever gotten rooted without a reason. Babe, if you've got struggles then let's start raging. Your tiny fingers were prepped and created for battle.

Struggles are going to make you a fighter. Where I come from, we kiss the dirty ground for struggles. They are going to make your story that much resilient. You're not going to survive them, you are going to absolutely obliterate them.

I'm not gonna tell you you're dainty, and fragile, and a flower in the field. I'm not gonna turn you into a delicate line of poetry when you were born with so much feist and zeal and madness inside of you. How dare the world not tell you, right from the start, that you are some kind of warrior.

I'm not gonna tell you that you'll always like yourself or that you'll always believe in yourself. If you're the least bit human then you've given up on yourself too many times to count this month already. I'm not gonna promise you won't do something to hurt yourself or others around you. I'm not gonna act surprised if you admit it happened last night. But I am gonna tell you that deciding to believe in victory, that it was made for me, has made all the difference to me.

If you want to stand here and wallow for too long about how you need to fix every itty bitty thing inside of you before you can ever get out there and do something that matters in this world, you can. I can't stop you. But I can tell you that it's this stupid, fragmented idea inside our heads that if we can just fix everything about ourselves then we'll somehow be adequate enough to love on the world.

Darling, you're adequate. While dancing. While speaking. While ugly crying. While spitting game. While struggling. While fighting. While laughing like a lunatic. While singing Taylor Swift at the top of your lungs. While slamming the door and walking away. In every little crook of you stands some sort of adequacy that the world would do anything to keep you unconvinced of.

And maybe I've got no street cred, no authority, no weight in saying this, but I'm not gonna let you be the world's largest living and breathing apology. I'm not gonna let you say "sorry" any longer -- as if "sorry" were your second language -- for things no human should ever have to apologize for. Say sorry when you've hurt someone. Say sorry when you've really misplaced your words and actions. But stop saying sorry for standing there and showing up to life everyday. You're not an apology letter, you're a thank-you note just waiting to happen.

And the best thing you might be able to do today is get outside, thank the skies for this day, and be the best darn broken piece of lovely you can be. Broken loveliness is the world's most common language. We all speak it so we might as well get fluent.

The best thing you might be able to do today is forget yourself. And forget all the people you've tried to be. And forget all the people who told you to be someone different. And just look around long enough to notice that we all need some sort of pick-me-up on a Monday. We all want some kind of worth. We all struggle to see what is really right in front of us. We all deprive ourselves and get it wrong. We all wonder about the bigger picture and who made it all. We all wonder when we'll wake up and finally, finally, feel like we were made to take on this day. We all wonder when, if ever, we'll get better at this whole human being thang. Maybe "beautiful" is an overly diluted word but there is no denying that you are surrounded, surrounded by people who've wanted to be warriors too. With loud footsteps. And the power to make a ruckus. And the kind of heart that makes people wonder, what will this one do next?

I'm not gonna tell you that you're beautiful. Sorry, I won't. I am just going to stay here. And I'm not gonna give up on you today. Because I've found we stay standing when people don't give up on us. So I'm not giving up on you today. Or tomorrow.

You cannot mark the day on the calendar when I'll walk away from you.

That, my dear, is just not happening.





Article by Hannah Brencher

Weak or Strong?

My Demon void,
A deep, dark unavoidable decent into my own personal abyss...
Plummeting through a dense and corrupted wave of events
Elusive, Stubborn, Unforgiving
A microcosmic of fantasy
In a thankless search for
For a never arriving bliss...
Much like Gadot, I Wait....
patiently
waiting
and
wondering
If, Fantasies do come true

I am harden by my wisdom, 
Solidified in my destiny
Like all overtures....my thunderous crescendo 
Introduces a lightening storm of fascinating people and misguided adventures
It is my Odyssey, my maiden Voyage

I dream of a time, in a place of passion where heaven's world fragmented mine....bridging two roads in one mind, flavored with lust and fury....
Snark In Color
Dusted with Gold
So Posh, So Lush...so highbrow
Who Cares
Who Wants
wanting...an insatiable egotistical drive down shallow waters
Dirty, 
You're so Dirty
Your Show
Look...No Ones watching
No one cares....
You won your losing battle
Now you get to fall Back into Your Void...your own personal abyss...

Chance Encounter

There is a chapel in the mall where I work: the St. Francis Sanctuary. Wedged between Dunkin Donuts and Ann Taylor Loft, just across the corridor from a cupcake kiosk. Curious as to what a mall church looks like, I stopped in the other day, right before my afternoon Starbucks run.

It turns out once you get past the Sheraton sharing the lobby, a mall church looks like any other church.

On a whim, I lit a candle for my grandmother. Gram wasn't Catholic. Far from it, she'd have said, ever the New England Protestant, born again before born again was uncool. My mother wasn’t wholly convinced and married a lapsed Catholic, so my brothers and I were raised vaguely Methodist, which meant that on most Sundays we watched televised golf and played Monopoly. Catholic or not, I felt like throwing up a flare to let Gram know she’s missed. I lit the candle, stared at the bronze St. Jude flanked by a wall of votives (are those Crate and Barrel?) and did my best to conjure her.

I miss you, Gram. Does heaven have a bandstand? I hope you're having a blast.

She didn’t answer, but I sat there in the quiet anyway. I don't know the Lord's Prayer by heart and my only practical knowledge of the rosary comes from Madonna videos, so for a moment I ad-libbed my way through a prayer: Heavenly Father, thank you for the blessings you have bestowed upon me. For my health, the roof over my head and the love in my life. Thanks for the steady job and for the safe car. Thanks for Aretha’s greatest hits and crisp fall nights and premium cable.

As I ticked through the list, it dawned on me: I have every earthly thing I need.

I asked for something anyway.

Just in case someone up there was actually listening, I requested even a tiny smidgeon of the faith my Gram had while she was alive, the kind that from the outside looked like rose-colored glasses and sounded like big laughs and joy. The kind that celebrated with sing-songy certainty the knowledge that Jesus had a mansion just over the hilltop with her name on it. Even after losing my grandfather and after her health started failing, she had a smile for every person she met. Gram didn’t fret for nothing. I think she saw the good in the world because she knew exactly where she was going when she was done with it.


There, in the mall church, I asked for a small slice of that kind of certainty.

I'd had a brush with it once before, several years ago. I was holding vigil for my (then) boyfriend in a hospital intensive care unit. He was catastrophically ill and on life support, given very little chance of survival after a heart attack. He's fine now — a medical miracle who even made the local papers — but every expert medical opinion at that moment had him on the fast train to the pearly gates. At the time I was just a bystander on the platform, and all I could do was sit on my hands and rock myself with worry.

The nights and days in the ICU passed like the kind of fever dream where everything terrible happens at once. But amidst the fraught all-nighters and blurry tear-stained days, I noticed something: When I took a moment to breathe and surrender to the uncertainty, I felt something downright wonderful welling up inside me, something akin to what I’d always imagined unconditional love might feel like. I felt safe, at peace, resolute. A calm in the storm.

As I passed the days and nights pacing the halls of the hospital, I thought of Gram a decade earlier at Gramp’s bedside in hospice. I thought of all the other Grams and Gramps in the hospital and in the history of the world who’d been in the very same shoes: loving, suffering, waiting, hoping. Gram would have said, We’re all in God’s waiting room.

The idea that I was just a bit player in a timeless story as big and as old as the universe calmed me. I felt myself just knowing everything is gonna be all right, whether this very human, very mortal man I was holding vigil for lived or not. I heard Bob Marley singing those same words from my car radio when I finally left the hospital for the first time to go home and sleep. I turned it up, rolled down my window and breathed in the fresh air. In spite of myself I felt as good as I’d ever felt. I exhaled THANK GOD out loud as I motored down Storrow Drive, and I felt like maybe he’d heard me.


In the mall church, I prayed to feel that again.

God, thank you for everything. I totally appreciate it, really. But if it you don’t mind, can you please help me feel that feeling again, now, when everything is good, and not just when the, um, shit hits the fan?

Again, no answer. I left the mall church and went back to work. I wrote a checking account brochure and listened to casting selects for a voice-over. I requested an actor who was less Judge Reinhold and more Gene Hackman. I drank a banana-almond-milk smoothie. I scrolled through Facebook. The chapel, my prayer and the candle for my Gram — all forgotten, like so many status updates.

Then something happened. On my way home from work I stopped at CVS, and as I rounded the corner for the pharmacy I saw him.

Manuel.

Even though it had been almost 5 years since we’d last met, I recognized his bald head and big smile immediately. He’d been the custodian who worked the second shift at the ICU, cleaning up blood, piss and balled-up Kleenex. I saw him every night. Sometimes there was small talk, but mostly we just did our thing. He worked and I fiddled with my iPod, feigning something I hope resembled non-panic.

One night, Manuel tapped me on the shoulder and offered me a tiny can of Coke from the employee fridge. He expressed concern that I was in the waiting room again, late at night, all alone. I took the can from him and said, "But I'm not alone. You're here." He smiled.

The exchange became a nightly ritual between Manuel and me.

You're alone.

But I'm not alone. You're here.

Days stretched to months. I saw Manuel on more nights than I didn’t, sometimes in the hospital cafeteria, sometimes in the lobby. I’d find myself looking for him, a lucky omen. Whenever we ran into each other, we had our little routine. Sometimes I'd go first, saying; "I'm here alone."

To which he'd reply, "But you're not alone, I'm here, querida."

When I ran into him in the CVS, he wasn’t alone. His wife, a beautiful, silvery haired woman introduced herself. She hugged me, saying: "You're the lady he told me about! Nobody thought your friend would live, but you were there every night."

We exchanged the usual pleasantries about weather, the Red Sox and the end of summer. Then it was time to go. As we parted, he smiled at me.

“You're here alone, querida!"

I’m not alone. You’re here.

We said goodbye without exchanging numbers or emails. Squeezed hands and walked away.

But I'll see him again, I’m certain.




by Jess Tardy

Girls Don't Poop

Well, what's to say...
I don't particularly finds scatology jokes funny, but this actress is quite humoring.
http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=ZKLnhuzh9uY&desktop_uri=%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DZKLnhuzh9uY


Also...
Blooper Takes
http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=E9LrUEK97AA&desktop_uri=%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DE9LrUEK97AA

Superfoods

http://www.everydayhealth.com/longevity-center-pictures/9-foods-that-may-lengthen-your-life.aspx?xid=aol_rss#/slide-1

How Hard is it to find 'True Love'?

Like catching a five legged sheep hard
(Real Sheep have Only IV legs)
(I needed to add that for those you dream up of the impossible)
But...
Five legged sheep could be as common as purple penguins and thirsty fish...if and when this all comes to fruition....I prove to you dear Ms, that love is but a curse...a jinx.  It turns you into a pot belly, donut eating daytime soap opera connoisseur...it's a vile reality of life's cruel joke on all those you want to become slap happy!  It's all true...especially the penguin part!

Join them if you can't win

What happens when your little Brat....
Throws A
T A N T R U M!!!!?

Join in....
Totally my style...

http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=1MgHMIyyr_c&desktop_uri=%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D1MgHMIyyr_c

What Curvy Ladies don't want to hear....

Despite the fact that we should all know better, a shocking number of people think that it's acceptable to comment on women's bodies -- curvy, skinny, short and tall alike. However, women who fall outside of the thin "ideal" face a specific type of weight discrimination. The comments often directed at these women make it glaringly clear that fat stigma is (sadly) still alive and well.

The term "plus-size" itself is a point of contention for many women. Obviously no one should be singled out for their body size, or treated differently because of their weight. But the fact remains that strangers, friends, family members and colleagues often feel empowered to comment on a woman's size -- especially when that size is not petite.

In a January 2012 piece for xoJane, Lesley Kinzel wrote about being criticized for her weight in public places such as the grocery store, the gym and a parking lot:

The frequency with which fat-shaming happens means many fat people go about their lives for years feeling constantly on guard, always prepared for someone to make a comment, to call them out. It doesn’t have to come from strangers, either; often our families and friends are just as likely to throw out careless fat-shaming comments, and not always with malicious intent.

We asked our readers to share the size-related comments they hate receiving most. Here are 23 things you should never say to a woman who isn't rail-thin:

1 "You have such a pretty face."

2 "You should wear black."

3 "You're a big girl."

4 "Have you ever thought about lap band surgery?"

5 "I don't have a problem with bigger girls."

"You're big-boned, that's all."

7 "If you ate less, you'd lose the weight."

8 "What happened?"

9 "I wish I enjoyed food like you."

10 "Don't worry, I like thick girls."

11 "Have you ever tried losing weight?"

12 "You should eat this."

13 "You look fine the way you are."

14 "You shouldn't eat that."

15 "Did you gain weight because you're afraid of attracting men?"

16 "You'd be so pretty if you lost weight."

17 "When are you due?"

18 "My friend lost so much weight on this great diet."

19 "If you slimmed down, you'd be really sexy."

20 "Have you checked your cholesterol recently?"

21 "You should try to be healthier."

22 "You shouldn't wear stripes/polka dots/floral prints."

23 "You'd be dateable if you lost weight."



Article by the Lovely and Curvaceous Nina Bahadur

Online Dating

We all Know someone, somewhere...who has had their fair share of online dating stories. For the most part, they tend to be spoiled aftershocks from earthquake-like dating situations.  Misrepresented and misguided, there are way too many instances that can (and have) soured one with spurned emotions of impractical luck in the way of Love.  I say Fukk It...

Get a dog, they are so much easier to bond with.  Not to mention, that no matter what...a dog will still love you at the End...no matter how rotten things get.

The Way I see things...from my vantage point....I get what I give, and what I have been giving is nothing but goodness...and what I have been given seems nothing short of greatness...or not...either way, My Karma (and yours) never fails me (or you)..,.possibly even as in us...or not.  I won't say that I told you...but, I really did Tell You!

NEW YORK (AP) — Online dating is shedding its stigma as a refuge for the desperate, but people who use sites such as Match.com and eHarmony are still in the minority.

Thirty-eight percent of Americans who are "single and looking" say they've used an online dating site or mobile dating app, according to a new study.

The report published Monday from the Pew Research Center's Internet and American Life Project suggests that attitudes toward online dating "have progressed in a clearly positive direction." In fact, 59 percent of Internet users agree that online dating is a good way to meet people. That's up from 44 percent in 2005.

As Americans shop, socialize and entertain themselves online, a growing number are turning to the Internet to find dates. Some 11 percent of people who started a long-term relationship in the past decade say they met their partner online. Even so, only 10 percent of Americans say they've tried online dating.

Online dating is most popular among men and women ages 25 to 34. Nearly a quarter of them have used online dating sites, compared with just 10 percent of people in the 18 to 24 age group. For ages 35 to 44, it's 17 percent and then the numbers fall to the single digits. Three percent of those over 65 have dabbled in online dating.

Whites are slightly more likely to use dating sites than other ethnicities — 11 percent compared with 7 percent for blacks and 5 percent of Hispanics, according to the survey. People without a high school diploma were the least likely to use the Internet to find a date, while those who have completed "some college" were the most likely.

While a relatively small fraction of people use online dating sites, forty-two percent of Americans say they know someone who has, up from 31 in 2005. Among those 65 or older, the number grew to 24 percent from 13 percent.

Once upon a time, couples who found each other online felt compelled to spin alternate "how we met" tales, but that's no longer the case. Perhaps it's the result of changing attitudes. In 2005, 29 percent of Internet users agreed that people on online dating sites were "desperate." In Pew's most recent study, that number fell to 21 percent.

But online dating isn't all chocolate hearts and red roses. More than half of online daters say they believe someone else "seriously misrepresented themselves" in an online dating profile. More than a quarter have felt uncomfortable or harassed by someone who contacted them.

The results of Pew's recent study aren't directly comparable to its 2005 report because the way surveyors count the "online dating population" has changed. There were no dating apps eight years ago. That said, the percentage of Americans who say they have used an online dating website grew from 3 percent in 2008 to 6 percent in 2009, and 9 percent this year.

Among Pew's other findings:

— Don't call it stalking: One-third of Americans who use social networking sites use the sites to check up on somebody they once dated. The same is true for nearly half of those ages 18 to 29.

— Match.com is the most popular dating site, according to the 2013 survey, just as it was in 2005. No. 2 this year is eHarmony. Yahoo Personals was in second place in 2005, but it no longer exists. Searching for it online will take you to Match.com.

— Twenty-nine percent of respondents say they know someone who has been in a long-term relationship or married someone they met online, compared with 15 percent in 2005.

— Forty-six percent of people who use online dating sites say finding someone long-term is a major reason they use the sites. A quarter, on the other hand, "just want to have fun without being in a serious relationship."

The 2013 telephone survey was conducted from April 17 to May 19 among a sample of 2,252 U.S. adults, including people who don't own a landline. It has a margin of error of 2.3 percentage points.