According to Trish

not worth reading since 2009

Month: September 2012

  • Open letter to the protester holding the picture of the bloody fetus

    Dear Abortion Rights Protester, I’m going to admit: My sister and I were less than thrilled to find out that there was going to be a big prayer hoedown of some sort at Independence Mall today. We didn’t mind so much that y’all were sharing your message — we were more concerned about traffic and…

  • When you have no choice, soldier on

    Years ago I went to visit my friend Jeana (not her real name) in Lexington, KY. I drove my cushy rental car from my hot shot job down to her apartment near the University. After settling in, she suggested we get dinner. We walked out to her car. I saw that the driver side door…

  • Breastfeeding and work: How Obamacare got the breastpumps out of the bathroom stall

    I’ve been writing about employment law in my day job for 8 years now. I thought I’d seen it all. But just recently I stumbled upon a legal matter I hadn’t come across before: A woman was suing over breastfeeding. This made me happy. Not that I was happy about how this woman was treated. Rather,…

  • Sins of the father: Making peace with my dad’s anger

    Sins of the father: Making peace with my dad’s anger

      I read an article this morning in The New York Times that blew my mind. It’s about how environmental factors in fathers’ lives — nutrition, stress, chemical exposure, emotional trauma (whoa!) — can activate or de-activate genetic information in their offspring. The kicker: These environmental exposures can happen long before child-bearing years and still affect…

  • Am I a slut? Hell, yeah.

    So I guess I’m a slut. A dirty, skanky, nasty slut. Why do I say this? Because I’m having sex. No, not at this exact moment while I’m sitting here typing, but I am having sex sometimes. You know, in my free time. By choice rather than by obligation. Like a hobby. And … I’m not…

  • Consumed by The Motherhood: After 9 years, I can finally tell the tale

    I didn’t take to motherhood like a duck in water. My own mother was — and is — so good at it. Endlessly patient. Endlessly understanding. Endlessly giving. She was born to be a mother the way Mozart was born to be a musical genius. (Nope, not an overstatement.) Me? I feel selfish in comparison.…