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Have you ever been bopping along to your favorite pop song and realized, nope, you don't have the moves like Jagger? Well, that can all change once you discover Caleb Marshall, known as The Fitness Marshall on YouTube. His videos show you how to channel your inner Beyoncé with moves anyone can do. You're also pretty much guaranteed to break a sweat. So go ahead: Dance like no one's watching.
If you wanted to do well in school, you asked a teacher for help. The same principle applies if you're practicing sports, learning instruments, or even making friends. In this video from BuzzFeed, a self-described awkard guy hires a life coach to help him get better at making friends. The best part? The video offers several helpful tips and challenges anyone can use to kick-start their social life:
Love really is a drug, and we're all hooked. So what happens, biologically speaking, when you fall off the wagon? Or, in less allegorical terms, what happens to your body when you go through a breakup? The easy answer is that you go into withdrawal. This video from Bustle shows that the areas of the brain that light up after a breakup are similar to those of someone who is going through cocaine withdrawal. Yikes! That explains those irrational and existential thoughts and feelings (no one will ever love me again, what is love anyway?).
If scientists know why breakups feel like sh*t, do they also know how to heal heartbreak? Unfortunately, there's no silver bullet. The most important thing is to rely on friends and family, both as a safeguard against bad decisions and as an outlet for confusing thoughts. It’s also essential to realize that emotional healing takes time, so don’t stress if you don't immediately bounce back.
Look at the image below. Do you see anything more than a simple red dot?
Do you see a slightly darker red horse? What about the blades of grass and the horse's saddle? If you’re panicking because you didn’t see anything or kicking yourself as you look back at it, take a deep breath.
The red dot test, the newest optical illusion spreading across the internet, doesn’t actually test for much at all, says Dominick Maino, an optometrist and professor of pediatrics and binocular vision at the Illinois College of Optometry.
“It looks like it might be a test for contrast sensitivity and perhaps visual acuity," Maino says. "I haven’t seen anything in the research literature on it though. I think it is just interesting. This is not a real test as far as I can tell.”
So there you have it: There may be some merit to the meme (contrast sensitivity is part of most routine eye exams) but not enough to get all riled up. If you’re still not convinced, see your optometrist. Chances are it’s been a while since your last eye exam anyway.
Plenty of jokes begin with the phrase, "If men had periods." (They'd brag about the size of their tampons, or they'd check into the hospital once a month for a morphine drip.) This video from BuzzFeed shows what actually happens when three men get a visit from Aunt Flo.
OK, technically they're rigged up to a contraption that releases a steady flow of a blood-like substance. But over the course of three days, they learn that even without hormones and cramps, a period is a hell of a lot to handle.
I hear the familiar hesitation in your voice when we speak. The sharp intake of breath and the disappointing sigh of an unposed question, like the hiss of an emptying balloon. With coaxing and reassuring, you come out with a familiar question.
But what about your health? Am I not even supposed to care?
And with that, you step into a long and living history. It stings and disappoints, as it always does. As a fat person, someone is always telling me about their concern for my health, and hearing it from such a dear friend smarts. I need you to know about your companions—the friends, family, colleagues, and strangers who have expressed those same concerns for as long as I have been fat.
I was 18 years old the first time someone told me I was going to die. I had just gotten the first job that I'd been truly passionate about, working with poets and novelists whose writing I so admired and had relied on in my adolescence. Luminaries whose work reached its warm hands into my ribcage, cradling everything vital and tender there, at a time that felt so isolating. A favorite poet was holding a reading, and I was in charge of it.
I'd spent months planning that first event, and I couldn't have been prouder. Dozens of people showed up and everything was going according to plan. I stationed myself behind the food, dishing up plates for attendees, and welcoming them as they made their way through the line. An older man, well-dressed, smiled as he accepted the plate I handed him.
"When did you put on all that weight, sweetie?" he asked me. "Was it when your dad left?" I felt my face flush and held my mouth stubbornly, clumsily shut. "You don't have to die just to spite him. And you are going to die."
My coworker stood next to me, her face a wrench of horror, shock, paralysis. Neither of us could muster any response, just slack faces and eyes welling with angry tears. We talked about it for hours afterward. Did he just decide today was his day to be the grim reaper? Who goes around telling strangers they're going to die? She couldn't shake it. Neither could I. For her, that stranger was a grim and gruesome anomaly. But for me, he was more rule than exception. His remark, while sensational, was a familiar interruption, an abrupt reminder of just how insurmountable my fat body was for those around me. Family, friends, classmates, and colleagues had long since cast me as a specter, frequently reminding me of my death, always couched in concern.
This was not the first time I'd been shaken by someone else's perception of my body. In high school, I'd lived the life of so many fat kids before me, eventually coming to the hard-fought conclusion that the only solution was to retreat, weather the storm, and wait for high school to end. My passion had been theater, but while I auditioned for school plays, I was rarely cast. The role was for a fiancé, explained the lead in the school play. No offense, but who's going to fall for a big girl? Guys want someone who's healthy. At my next audition, the hot stage lights on my skin felt redundant—my body always seemed to be floodlit anyway. I felt like my own shadow, larger than life, unwieldy, the distorted silhouette of a real person.
Teachers expressed concern. One day, I'd brought a salad for lunch. In the cafeteria, one teacher suggested that I scrape the croutons off to the side. "The carbs can't be helping," she said, her voice high-pitched and apologetic, her face a familiar mask of studied, sympathetic pain. I felt the salad turn slimy and sad in my mouth, limp greens coating my tongue. I dropped the remainder in the trash, and forwent lunch for the next several days.
So I got a part-time job and used the money to hire a personal trainer. He was fantastic: the kind of muscle-bound man I had learned to fear, but with an openness and kindness that consistently caught me off guard.
When I first visited him, he asked me what my goals were. I said I wanted to stop being unhealthy. "What do you do that's unhealthy?" he asked. "I'm big," I said. He furrowed his brow, then reframed, "Your goals could be that you want to be able to go hiking with a friend, or you want to run a half-marathon, or you want to be strong enough to pick up your little sister. It doesn't have to be about your weight."
I wanted to cry. He had seemed so nice, but he didn't understand. He hadn't been to the fat camp I'd been sent to as a child. He hadn't seen the sidelong glances as I walked through the city, and the echoes of laughter I could never be sure weren't about me. It did have to be about my weight.
I relented, remembering the work and savings that had gotten me there. My goal was to build endurance so that I could run the mile at school without coming in last. And over months' worth of work, I achieved that goal, and I set another. And another. And another. I kept meeting goals, kept getting stronger and healthier. I lost a little bit of weight, but I was still fat. And because I was still fat, anyone at any time could decide to express concern, a reminder of just how clearly I was failing to meet my deepest need: having a different body.
I launched a new strategy—one that I used for years, well into college. I illustrated all the ways I was trying to lose weight: writing blog posts about all the meals I was cooking and how healthy they were. Opening each conversation with some anecdote that had happened at the gym that week.
Invariably, someone would chime in with a diet suggestion. "Have you tried…" or "Did you know…" or "…it worked for my sister" or "Oprah says…" It didn't matter what I said or did. There always seemed to be someone ready to offer unsolicited advice. It was a crashing, atonal symphony, discordant notes all insistent on their own direction. I kept searching for a melody that never came. When I would ask, once in a great while, for a moment of silence, I'd see that mask again—the grimace that everyone learns to use with fat people—I'm just concerned for your health.
I had played a game I couldn't win—as long as I was fat, I would always be seen as unhealthy. All of the trying, all of the successes, all of the little affirmations and crushing defeats—the only part of me that could be seen was the failure. In a fat body, I would always be worthy of blame. And so, again, I withdrew. I stopped going shopping with friends to save myself from the countless sidelong glances from salespeople in a straight size store. I stopped going out. I stopped dating or even talking about crushes.
All of these things, I learned, were for the thin. Dating, travel, love, sex, achievement, and happiness weren't for me. They were, the world insisted, rewards for the willpower I had, but which my body stubbornly refused to manifest. I kept exercising, kept trying new approaches to eating—tallying calories and carbs and points. None of them delivered the promised body, the beauty standard that was supposed to be so readily won with some effort. My life could only begin when I obtained the body that wouldn't come.
My friends and family metamorphosed when we talked about my fat body. All of their trust and love transformed into irritation, anger, and patronizing concern.
All the while, family, friends, colleagues, classmates, and perfect strangers returned to that furrowed brow and sing-song voice of concern, giving gift certificates for gyms, ordering for me at restaurants, sharing before and after pictures of bariatric surgeries. I just want you to be healthy.
The metrics of my health were strong—blood pressure fine, cholesterol normal, blood tests clean—but no one ever asked about that. The one measure that could be trusted—the shape of my skin—answered those unposed questions, and any claims I might have made to the contrary were suspect at best. My friends and family metamorphosed when we talked about my fat body. All of their trust and love transformed into irritation, anger, and patronizing concern. Our rapport fell away. I could be trusted with their highs and lows, their professional successes and their relationship problems, but not, it seemed, with my experience of my own body.
There was no illustration of effort, no gesture sufficient, no health record convincing enough to stop the constant remarks and suggestions. Because most of us learn a script to recite when we see bodies like mine: I just want you to be happy. I'm concerned about your health. It's probably sugar. It's probably carbs. It's probably your workout. It's probably you.
Over time, I've come to understand why. Nearly every conversation about fatness is a conversation about weight loss—one that considers all of us part of the same precarious circumstance. According to those anxiety-soaked conversations, we're all perpetually teetering on the edge of becoming fat. Keeping fat at bay is like a foreign threat that's turned internal, a Red Scare in our own bodies. One false move, one indulgent meal, one day without vigilant terror could lead any one of us to becoming fat.
And "fat" means more than just the size or shape of your body. In those panic-driven conversations, "fat" means you're not trying. It means you're not loved, because "fat" isn't lovable. "Fat" means you're not strong, not moral, not smart enough to stay alert to the threat of "fat."
"Fat" means you've failed.
When others see my body, it reminds them of all of that. I'm a manifestation of that cultural nightmare, the worst case scenario for their bodies to become. If you see something, say something. And when others see me, they do. Because if they're explaining diet advice and mortality rates to a fat person, no one could mistake them for one.
People will say things to fat people that are heartless, thoughtless. They would not say them to anyone else, and they are not saying them to anyone else. Every warning shot we fire about fatness is aimed at ourselves. It is always a flagellation, a punishment for perceived failings, past or future, real or feared.
In that way, concern hurts all of us. For those who aren't fat, it continues to feed that anxiety around becoming fat, the unthinkable possibility that always surrounds them. And it hurts our relationships. All of a sudden, all of our familiarity, friendliness, and warmth fell away, replaced by prescriptive, cold, and sometimes condescending exchanges.
It hurts me as a fat person because of the message it sends. Well-intentioned advice, day after day, week after week, year after year, shows me that I am seen first—and sometimes only—as a fat person. It is a tidal wave of reminders that I am, despite everything else, failing the one measure that matters. No matter how hard I try, how much money I spend or how many calories I ration, no matter how strong my mettle, it doesn't matter. It can't be seen. I don't have the luxury of an uninterrupted day. Every day someone finds a way to show judgment, disdain, or concern for the maligned vessel that carries me through the world.
Fat people learn quickly and deeply that our bodies are not our own. They are public property, to be commented on, judged, prodded, rejected. Others are always entitled to our bodies, and they are never our own. As an adult, I have eked out practices to reclaim my body, just for a moment. I call myself fat. I make jokes about the way I'm perceived. I wear bright colors and fitted clothing. I have found my own peace of mind. I set aside that long line of comments to right an eternally haunted relationship to dieting and food, exercised because it makes me happy and makes me feel good. All of that amongst those grimacing masks of concern, a Greek chorus foretelling my tragic death. Was it when your dad left? You are going to die.
You asked if you should care about my health. Of course you should. I would want you to care if I fell ill, or if I were struggling with a health condition. But I'm not. And looking at me won't tell you how strong I've become, the contents of my doctor's files, the oceans of blood that my sturdy heart pumps through me. My dress size isn't my medical chart. My body—all of our bodies—are too complex and wonderful to be reduced to that.
My dress size isn't my medical chart. My body—all of our bodies—are too complex and wonderful to be reduced to that.
I am still fat. I live in the body that I have. I take care of it, and it reciprocates. I take small measures to tend to my own health and take the reins of my own happiness. The Greek chorus is still there, repeating glorifying obesity and glamorizing an unhealthy lifestyle.
What I need from you, dear friend, is to buck that trend. In my life as a fat girl, now a fat woman, I have heard every form of concern, prescriptive, tough love, and lecture. I have become a reluctant expert in weight-loss techniques, some learned in desperation, others learned by force. I promise, I know.
What I need from you is your friendship. I know what that looks like, what it feels like. It is not pitying, not lecturing, not repeating refrains, or insisting on approaches that I have asked you to abandon. Your friendship is a warm and glowing thing, living and responsive, reciprocal and heartfelt. It is not sing-song concern, not a stale script with a wooden delivery.
What I need from you is a respite from that relentless chorus. Take off your mask, put down your script. Sit with me, friend to friend, eye to eye. Let's talk.
This article originally appeared on Medium and was republished with the author's permission. The views expressed herein are those of the author. For more, follow Your Fat Friend on Twitter.
Forget the notion of intimidating boot camps with scary drill sergeants. This 37-minute workout is nothing like that. Fitness trainer Kelly Lee leads you through a series of bodyweight moves that will strengthen your abs and glutes. The routine is low impact yet high intensity. Translation: It’s easy on the joints but goes hard on the burn factor.
After a quick warm-up, you’ll perform familiar moves, such as lunges, squats, and donkey kicks, focusing on form and using your breath to power through each rep. You’ll end with a soothing, yoga-inspired stretch.
A light set of dumbbells and an exercise mat are optional. Simply press play to get started.
Looking for more short and effective at-home workouts? Grokker has thousands of routines, so you’ll never get bored. Bonus: For a limited time, Greatist readers get 40 percent off Grokker Premium (just $9 per month) and their first 14 days free. Sign up now!
There's been a huge spike in ADHD diagnoses in the last decade, which seems like it could be cause for concern. But this video from asapSCIENCE argues that ADHD can be a biological advantage. The disorder's hallmark restlessness made our hunter and gatherer ancestors more likely to bring home food—if they didn't have success in one area, they just moved on to the next, unfazed.
Now we sit at desks all day instead of scavenging for food, which makes high energy and fleeting concentration seem less desirable. Still, experts argue that people with ADHD are more creative and better equipped to succeed at jobs that require resourcefulness, adaptability, and the ability to think outside the box.
Whether you're just starting out with strength training or the weight room is your second home, MuscleWiki can be a super-helpful tool. Pick a muscle from the interactive body map, and the website will show you to a list of moves (GIFs included!). MuscleWiki is still a work in progress—you won't see any female models, for example, but the site says that will change by the end of April. Regardless, we're big fans of these easy-to-follow strength-training exercises and the site's interactive calorie, nutrient, and max rep calculators.
Looks like we won't be DIYing chocolate anytime soon. As this video from How to Make Everything explains, chocolate doesn't come from heaven—it starts off as the slimy beans inside the fruit of the cacao tree, which looks like it belongs inside a Thanksgiving cornucopia. The beans turn into our favorite sweet treat after a complicated process that involves fermenting, drying, roasting, and, of course, adding sugar. We know, we know, added sugar is one of those bad-for-you buzzwords, but seeing how sugarcane and cacao turn into a perfect chocolate bar is pretty cool.
There are lots of badass yogis out there, but this is a whole new level of awesome. Dan Nevins, an army veteran, lost both his legs after complications from injuries sustained while on active duty in Iraq. He's never let that hold him back and has biked across the country and climbed Mount Kilimanjaro. But it was yoga that helped Nevins address his emotional issues from post-combat stress.
He admits it took him a while to get hooked. At first Nevins found yoga painful and frustrating, but after he became comfortable taking off his prosthetics and got over what he calls the "man bun and spandex stereotype," he fell in love with it. Now he's an instructor, spreading the message that yoga really is for everyone and is an especially great outlet for veterans dealing with emotional stress. Check out our favorite photos of Nevins showing off some sweet yoga poses below and follow him on Instagram for a dose of inspiration.
(h/t BuzzFeed)
I love salads, quinoa, and kale. I'm in yoga teacher training, I'm a triathlete, and I enjoy sweating every day. But I also love the sweeter things in life: cookies, booze, cheese, French fries—you name it.
In fact, #treatyoself had become my motto about food more often than was healthy. And it wasn't doing my body (or mind) any good.
After all, I know a thing or two about health. I work at a website where our mission is to help the world think about health differently. We want everyone to find what's good for them—and we embody that mission at the office. We have fresh groceries delivered twice a week, unlimited snacks, and countless articles on healthy breakfasts, easy dinners, and protein-packed snack ideas.
But depsite the endless knowledge and resources at my fingertips, I pushed it all aside and kept up habits I knew weren’t the healthiest, like never saying no to dessert and always having a margarita (or two) at happy hours.
Every New Year, I make the same resolution: “Be more mindful of what goes into my body.” This year was no exception. But I also thought about one of my favorite mottos: “Go big or go home.” Why, after years of being passionate about health and wellness and with all the perks of working at Greatist, was I not going “big” when it came to choosing what to eat?
That's why I decided to go all in. I'd attempt something I never thought I could (or would want to) do in a million years: the Whole30 program.
If you've never heard of it, it's no joke. Think of it as a stricter form of Paleo where you focus on eating whole foods—no sugar, grains, dairy, legumes, or alcohol—for 30 days.
I'd heard about it from my 33-year-old sister, who had done it twice (once while pregnant!). And while it was challenging, she only had positive things to say about her experiences.
As I prepared to start the program, I thought back on the times when I felt uncomfortable in a pair of jeans. I thought about all my hungover days after overindulgent nights out and remembered my wonderful weekend mornings after a sober evening with friends.
I knew I needed to actually do something about my health—not just know what I should be doing.
I knew I needed to actually do something about my health—not just know what I should be doing. I wasn't feeling my most confident, and I realized maybe I wasn’t living my best life. With a few coworkers embarking on the Whole30 program with me and my sister serving as my sounding board and "coach," off I went.
I'm not going to say it changed my life, but I learned so much more than I ever expected to. Here are the top seven lessons I took away from a month of no cheese, wine, sandwiches, or dessert.
I never thought I’d whip up a Paleo shrimp curry on a Tuesday night. Or know from memory that you can roast veggies at 400 degrees for about 40 minutes and they'll be delicious. Sure, it took me a few times to perfect spicy plantain chips, but once I did, they were 10 times better than regular chips. And if you've never used veggies in place of pasta before, the Veggetti (and spaghetti squash) will become your BFFs.
Did you know there was sugar in Sriracha? And marinara sauce? I used to just grab any pasta sauce at the store, but once I started reading labels, I realized some have added sugars while others don’t—and both taste delicious. I will now always choose the no-added-sugar option.
I’m the type of person who eats pretty much anything, so when I found myself at dinner with a few friends and I was that person who had to ask if there was any dairy or sugar, I was a little hesitant. But once I asked, I realized it’s really not that awkward. Every server was more than happy to check with the chef.
I honestly didn't crave a drink—even when I was stuck indoors during a blizzard. And I was surprised to find I was totally fine eating my Whole30-approved lunch or dinner without craving chocolate chips after. The only thing I craved? My social life, since many of my friends were doing Dry January as well. Still, giving up alcohol (even in a drinking-centric city like New York) wasn’t that big of a deal.
Cheese makes everything better. I also missed sandwiches, any food I could hold, and flat whites on Saturday mornings. To make up for it, I went a little crazy eating nuts all day long (cashews are the bomb) and realized maybe I need to take it easy on them next time.
Not that I wasn’t before. I feel so lucky to have grown up with a mom who always told me I was beautiful. When I complained about not feeling my best or eating too many chocolate croissants, she would remind me that tomorrow is a new day! But I’m human, and when I eat and drink too much for too many days in a row, I feel terrible and get down on myself.
My clothes fit, I never felt overly full, and I really felt like my best self—which was my goal.
Over the 30 days, I lost a lot of weight, and my abs decided to show up. This side effect wasn’t the reason I hopped on the Whole30 journey, but I felt great. My clothes fit, I never felt overly full, and I really felt like my best self—which was my goal.
Thanks to my coworkers, my sister, and the weekly emails and Instagram posts from the Whole30 team, I felt like part of a community that was actually excited about conquering this challenge. For me, having a supportive group around me—whether we're changing eating habits, going to the gym, or grabbing fro-yo (post Whole30!) to talk about life—is incredibly important. I wouldn’t be the person I am and definitely wouldn’t have done the Whole30 without my support group, my friends.
Transitioning into life after Whole30 was a little tougher than I expected. Finishing the program wasn't a big hurrah, because I had felt so great during the 30 days. And right after, I felt guilty eating foods that I hadn't been allowed. Still, there were plenty of foods that I'd missed (like the turkey sandwiches that I lovingly craft for lunch), and I was happy to have those back.
In the end, I don’t think there is a magic formula to figure out how to balance my #treatyoself attitude with treating my body the way it deserves. I'm not one of those "everything in moderation" types and likely never will be. Go big or go home—always.
What Whole30 gave me is a tool kit—a tool kit to make healthier choices, to know that it's not that hard to feel like my best self, and to have the confidence to tackle any challenge, even those I thought I’d never attempt.
We're definitely guilty of sitting (and slouching) too much at work, but when we learned that standing desks may not be worth the hype, we weren't about to drop hundreds of dollars to try one. That's why we love the Oristand, a cardboard standing desk that's super easy to set up, and best of all, only $25! (Hopefully that's cheap enough to convince your boss to expense it.)
You might be thinking: "Hey, if it's really just a tricked out cardboard box, I can make this on my own and save some money." But you'd probably need a degree in industrial design to come up with something this solid and sturdy. The good news is you don't need to be handy to set it up. If you can fold a box, you're good to go.
The Oristand has two levels that look a little like stairs and allow your keyboard to fall in line with your arms while your computer is at eye level. And since it's made of cardboard, you can do a quick DIY project with paint, markers, or crayons to really make it your own.
Standing all day may not be the fast track to a healthier life (like it's often sold to be), but it does come with some health benefits (like burning more calories). And at such a cheap price point, why not give it a try?
It's been years since hoards of New Yorkers waited in epically long lines to taste the trendy croissant-donut hybrid called a Cronut, so we knew it was only a matter of time before foodies lost it over another dessert. This time it's the raindrop cake, which is already wildly popular in Japan. Let's first clarify that this is a far cry from any traditional cake you might be picturing right now. Imagine a Jell-O salad, make sure it's flavorless (clear), and now you've got it. It's dessert fanfare gone too far.
So why do these $8 cakes have so many people freaking out? For starters, they're zero calories—then again, so is water. (The cake can be topped with black sugar syrup and soy flour, which aren't calorie-free.) The real hype is it looks like an enormous raindrop (ah, so we're eating with our eyes here) and has an unusual, mushy consistency. You know what also can be shaped like a raindrop and has a mushy consistency? Jell-O. Go to the store, buy yourself a packet, and save some serious time and money.
The day middle schoolers in one Indiana town were asked to weigh themselves in front of their entire gym class and then calculate their BMI for homework, eighth-grader Tess Embry came home very upset (as many of us would!). She channeled that energy in the best way possible, writing a kick-ass explanation for why she woud not calculate her BMI.
Embry's response, which has gone viral, points out some of the problems with the BMI measurement and details some of her own struggles with body image. We're so inspired by her courage, body-positive message, and general bad-assery. Plus, she ended the write-up with a complete mic drop:
"Now, I'm not going to even open my laptop to calculate my BMI. And I'll tell you why. Ever since I can remember, I've been a "bigger girl" and I'm completely fine with that; I'm strong and powerful. When you put a softball or a bat in my hand, they are considered lethal weapons. But, at the beginning of the year, I started having very bad thoughts when my body was brought into a conversation. I would wear four bras to try and cover up my back fat, and I would try to wrap ace bandages around my stomach so I would look skinnier. So my lovely mother did what any parent would do when they noticed something wrong with her child, she took me to my doctor.
My doctor and I talked about my diet and how active I am. He did a couple tests and told me I was fine. He said though I'm a bit overweight, he's not going to worry about me based on how healthy I am. So this is why I don't calculate my BMI, because my doctor, a man who went to college for eight years studying children's health, told me my height and weight are right on track. I am just beginning to love my body, like I should, and I'm not going to let some outdated calculator and a middle school gym teacher tell me I'm obese, because I'm not. My BMI is none of your concern because my body and BMI are perfect and beautiful just the way they are."
We're not saying you've peeked through the blinds to see your neighbors doing the deed, but chances are you've wondered how your stamina stacks up against everyone else. So yes, we're basically asking: Are you the tortoise or the hare?
Due to the private nature of sex, it’s a hard question to answer. Lucky for you, a group of scientists armed with condoms and calculators set out for scientific solution. They asked 500 heterosexual couples from five different countries to use a stopwatch to time sex, from insertion of the penis into the vagina to male orgasm, over a four-week period. (We realize this is a very specific, male-centric definition of sex that doesn't take into account women's orgasms or foreplay, but unfortunately it's the way this particular study was set up.)
The results? Researchers found sex lasts an average (technically median) of 5 minutes and 24 seconds. But don’t sweat it if you’re off the mark—findings ranged from 33 seconds to more than 44 minutes.1 This just goes to show that when it comes to sex, there really is no normal.
A few more interesting notes from the study: It appears that the time couples last in bed decreases as they get older, and the amount of time a guy takes to orgasm is not significantly affected by condom use or circumcision. So there you have it!
(h/t IFL Science)
#BoPo (a.k.a. #bodypositive) has become a huge cultural touchpoint and, news flash: It’s now being abused as a marketing ploy for goods and services that, in a word, are unworthy of it. There’s the Special K ad running in Canada encouraging women to be “perfectly imperfect” and “own it all”... by eating low-calorie cereal? And a little British activewear company called Yoga Leggs that proudly offers a “full range of sizes” up to U.S. size 10 because “no two amazing bodies are the same [and] real women come in all shapes and sizes."
But the offender I’m most riled up about at the moment is Beyond Diet, a weight-loss program run by a nutritionist by the name of Isabel de Los Rios, probably because I almost “liked” her Beyond Diet Facebook page. I noticed recently that a few of my trusted professional social media contacts had done so, and I’m always looking to expand my network of body-positive experts, but something tripped my bullsh*t radar. Something didn’t smell right.
All it took was a few clicks and right there on the homepage of this nutritionist’s (read up on the differences between a nutritionist and a registered dietitian) website is a presentation titled "5 Things to Never Eat." Never? Red flag. Turns out it’s the same company behind the unavoidable web ad that proclaimed “cut down a bit of stomach fat every day by not eating these 5 foods.” (FYI, the five foods include some pretty normal stuff like soy and whole-wheat bread.) What incensed me even more than the glaringly suspect advice were the body-shaming images of sad women pinching their muffin tops.
I reached out to De Los Rios and Beyond Diet multiple times via email and Twitter for comment, but they did not respond, and nobody picked up the phone when I called the 800-number listed on the website. (In fact, the line doesn’t appear to be manned at all, as disgruntled customers have pointed out.) The one place I did finally get the company to acknowledge my request was in the comments of a post on their Facebook page, but the March 23 post seems to have since been hidden. (Not just my comments, but the entire post.) Curiouser and curiouser, cried Alice.
A bit more digging revealed that more than 30 clients have filed complaints about Beyond Diet with the Better Business Bureau in the last three years. So, yeah, maybe they’re a little press-shy.
My deeper point is this: If an image or marketing ploy for any kind of product, plan, or self-described “expert” doesn't sit well with you, trust that instinct. While the body-love movement itself is far from a fad, it’s hot right now and some are treating it that way. People are co-opting body love language to sell us more of the same-old crap. We have to scratch more than just the surface when we’re looking for health and wellness brands, media, and experts to support—with our dollars and our “likes.”
Sunny Sea Gold is Greatist’s body image columnist and the author of Food: The Good Girl’s Drug—How to Stop Using Food to Control Your Feelings (Berkley Books, 2011). The views expressed herein are hers. A health journalist by trade and training and a mom of two little girls, she’s also an advocate and educator focused on reducing the rates childhood obesity and eating disorders by building Body-Positive Families. Reach out to her @sunnyseagold.
Ideally, our nighttime routine involves a warm cup of tea, a hot shower, and a good book. The reality: dozing off in front of late-night TV then dragging our bleary-eyed selves to bed. Whether the result of a few too many drinks, exhaustion, or pure laziness, we’ve all had those nights when washing our face just isn’t going to happen. But is it really that bad?
All signs point to yes. “It’s one of the worst things we can do,” says Joel Schlessinger, M.D., a dermatologist and RealSelf contributor. Throughout the day, your makeup picks up harmful free radicals from the air. These unstable molecules break down the collagen in your skin and speed up the aging process, Schlessinger explains. Not washing them away at night gives them time to do their dirty work as you sleep.
Basically, it’s enemy No. 1 for clear, smooth skin. “There’s truth to the phrase ‘beauty sleep,’” says Whitney Bowe, M.D., a dermatologist in New York City. Sleeping in makeup traps in oil, which leads to bacteria build-up and breakouts. Removing it, on the other hand, gives your skin a clean palette for any nighttime products to soak in.
All types of makeup can cause damage, but some are worse than others. “Foundations and primers, especially oil based, can block pores and deter your skin from breathing,” Bowe says.
Concealer tends to aggravate acne, Schlessinger says—which is a cruel and unusual punishment, since you’re likely using it to cover up blemishes in the first place. And leaving lipstick on can result in chapped, dry lips.
Your lashes aren’t safe either. “Leaving mascara on overnight can cause eyelashes to become brittle, break easily, and even shed faster,” Schlessinger says. Eye makeup can also lead to irritation or even more serious eye infections, like conjunctivitis, if particles make their way into your eyes as you’re tossing and turning. Yuck.
Don't beat yourself up—it doesn’t mean you’ve done irreversible damge: “Skin does have a natural resiliency to environmental stress and damage, so it will protect itself to a certain extent,” Bowe says. Just don’t make it a habit. Although one time won't do damage, eventually premature aging will set in, Schlessinger says.
Your morning-after action plan: Wash your face twice instead of once, Bowe suggests, and apply a face mask to add back some moisture if you have time. Another good call: Wash your pillowcase before getting back in bed, since leftover makeup and bacteria will likely linger.
For an occasional quick fix, store makeup-removing wipes, like Josie Maran’s Bear Naked Wipes ($12; josiemarancosmetics.com), on your nightstand, Bowe suggests. Just don’t rely on them every night. “They aren’t as effective as washing your face with a cleanser,” she says. Still, they may serve as a nightly reminder to head to the bathroom for a more thorough cleanse.
You can also try a cleansing “water” that remove impurities and makeup—without the need for actual H2O. Our derms recommend Dr. Brandt’s XYY Dual Fusion Water ($32; drbrandtskincare.com) or La Roche-Posay’s Micellar Water ($19.99; laroche-posay.us).
Things change (hairstyles, fashion, fitness trends). So it shouldn’t come as a surprise that today's fruits and veggies look way different than they did thousands of years ago. Yet this video from New York magazine is still pretty shocking. When we look at images of wild bananas with their pomegranate-like seeds or carrots that resemble tree roots, it's hard to believe someone looked at them and actually thought, "Hey, I should eat that!"
Forget meditation! Watch these food processing videos instead. A simple satisfaction washes over us as we are introduced to the perfect union between the organic and mechanical worlds—or at least that’s Slate magazine's explanation for why it's so hard to look away from these demonstration videos.
An enormous machine sorts Brussels sprouts by size. A super-sharp blade cuts watermelon into pieces that look like pizza slices. A conveyor belt moves potatoes from the floor to the top of the largest pile of produce we've ever seen. And then there are the soundtracks, described by Slate as "the music a supermarket would play if it tried to get in bed with you." There's something weirdly serene about the whole process—and hey, at least we get to learn a little more about where our food comes from. Next time you're looking for a quick moment of Zen, you know where to turn.
In case you haven’t heard on Instagram or Twitter, Amy Schumer called the editors of Glamour “not cool” this morning for including her name in a list of “Women Who Inspire Us” on the cover of the magazine’s special issue, Chic at Any Size. The other women mentioned in the list were Melissa McCarthy, Adele, and Ashley Graham, all of whom are considered “plus-size” in our culture.
Cue the internet gossip news firestorm. Here’s my insider take on this kerfuffle (I worked at Glamour for eight years and still occasionally write health pieces for the magazine): This special issue shouldn’t be called Glamour’s “plus-size” issue, as it is, by definition and title, not. A quick look at the table of contents:
So let’s call this issue what it is: a "normal-size" issue (as in all sizes are normal) or a “diverse bodies” issue or “not the usual mostly thin women in the fashion spreads” issue. All of those work for me.
“Perhaps I’m the only person in the world who doesn’t know a lot about Amy Schumer,” my friend Holly said to me about this whole thing. “Yet when I see her reply, it seems like a version of, ‘Not that there’s anything wrong with that.’ She chose to go on IG and rant essentially about how, just to be clear, she’s not really that fat, as if she wanted to distance herself from the label as much as possible.”
Could Amy’s reaction give us a peek into her own body insecurities? (She is a human female, after all, and has regular, if unfortunate, lady-feelings.)
Listen, I’m no Pollyanna about the state of women’s media (advertising, television, publications, porn, toys, etc.). But change comes in steps, and Glamour took one. (Just like that particular magazine has been doing, slowly but surely, for years. See: the belly roll seen 'round the world, binge-eating disorder, and weight stigma.) What’s more, I still know many of the staffers who work there, I’ve been in those ideas meetings, have helped cast models, and I know that the editors believe the “body love” and “chic at all sizes” message. Believe me, or don’t—but I was in the trenches.
Bottom line: I applaud Glamour for having the guts to put this issue out there, despite knowing that we would probably pick the whole thing apart. My only complaint? The issue costs $13.
Now, on to the glorious future when women of all shapes will be in every issue of every fashion magazine all of the time and not in a “special issue.” It’s coming. (OK, now you may call me Pollyanna.)
Sunny Sea Gold is Greatist’s body image columnist and the author of Food: The Good Girl’s Drug—How to Stop Using Food to Control Your Feelings (Berkley Books, 2011). The views expressed herein are hers. A health journalist by trade and training and a mom of two little girls, she’s also an advocate and educator focused on reducing the rates childhood obesity and eating disorders by building Body-Positive Families. Reach out to her @sunnyseagold.
We all know that friend whose life (both IRL and on social media) is full of drama. These drama queens and kings (along with narcissists and control freaks) seem like an unfortunate fact of life. But psychologists aren't satisfied with those types of throwaway explanations, so a group of scientists set out to study drama-loving people to determine whether they share any personality traits. (Spoiler: They do!)
Based on their findings, the researchers developed a simple quiz to determine whether you're particularly drawn to drama. (You can take the quiz by clicking the button below.) The questions help determine whether someone is manipulative, outspoken, or quick to play the victim—traits that are common among people with a need for drama. While this scale is more scientific than a BuzzFeed quiz, it's intended to measure certain personality traits, not totally define you.
PepsiCo, one of the world's largest food manufacturers, has pledged to use only cage-free eggs in its products by 2020 in the U.S. and by 2025 internationally. Other major companies are making similar announcements, including Trader Joe's, Target, and CVS.
While the term "cage-free" may conjure up images of chickens frolicking freely in grassy fields, that's not actually the case. Egg classification falls on a spectrum, and the cage-free label means the hens who laid these eggs were allowed to roam freely in an enclosed space. But that does not guarantee they spent anytime outdoors.
The cage-free label means the hens who laid these eggs were allowed to roam freely in an enclosed space.
To make matters worse, the companies selling these cage-free eggs aren't doing it solely out of a moral or ethical obligation to treat animals better. Cage-free eggs are a huge moneymaker. On average, they cost 15 cents more per dozen to produce than the standard kind, but they can fetch double the price on store shelves. (The national average for a dozen cage-free eggs is $3.42 compared with $1.45 for conventional eggs.)
All of this info can leave you feeling duped (that's how we felt when we learned about it too). Similar terms like "free-range" only make things more confusing, so we put together a handy list of definitions to check out before you buy another dozen eggs. Click the button below to check it out!
By the time I was 15 years old, my mom, sister, and I had moved homes at least 25 times. My father was an alcoholic. I was getting government-paid school lunches and had a weekend job at a local bakery. I was not surrounded by much ambition or inspiration.
But I knew the life I was given was special. I yearned to do something important with it, but I couldn’t find the words to explain this to anyone (and even if I could, I doubted I could find anyone who would entertain my “very optimistic” ideas).
Then I stumbled across a book in a secondhand store, and it changed my life. The Magic of Thinking Big by David J. Schwartz, Ph.D., brought my inner-knowledge words to life. This book heard me. It understood me. It gave me support, ideas, and endless encouragement for years.
Although the author died soon after I was born, he became my mentor, my inner coach, and my closest friend. He taught me to set my goals high, take action toward them every day, and always think positively to achieve them. He told me not to let any small circumstances (or small thinkers around me) make me small-minded.
The strength given to me by the books I’ve read vastly outweighs any other source of influence in my life.
His book turned me from feeling like a restless teenager into a formidable force in the world. I still cherish my original (enthusiastically highlighted!) copy.
Point being: I know the power of a good self-help book. The strength given to me by the books I’ve read vastly outweighs any other source of influence in my life. I've read hundreds since that day and have found common themes throughout them all. From the spiritual side to business advice and from age-old to contemporary authors, the same golden threads tie their words together. Here are the top five.
This is Jack Canfield’s No. 1 Success Principle. It encapsulates the importance of owning every part of your life, including your mistakes. There is neither success nor joy to be had in blaming others and relinquishing control to other people or your circumstances.
In order to create the life you want, you have to take sole responsibility for it.
To create the life you want, you have to take sole responsibility for it. Forget your parents, your exes, the opportunities (or lack thereof) you were given. Your life’s direction is entirely up to you. Zero excuses. Success has no prerequisites, and there is no quality, certification, background, or nationality that has a monopoly on success. It’s all up to you.
“Inherent in every desire is the mechanics for its fulfillment,” Deepak Chopra writes in The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success. It’s no accident that if you love to sing/write/teach/build companies/fill-in-the-blank, you were given talent in this area. And you are meant to be doing it!
The extent to which you use your gifts and capabilities is up to you (remember point No. 1), but they exist to be shared and to serve others. You have an obligation to be who your heart knows you can be. This way you make your highest contribution to the world and live regret free.
There are no accidents or unreachable goals that exist within your desires. You are also worthy of receiving the blessings (including financial blessings) that result when you bring value to others.
In As a Man Thinketh (Tony Robbins’s favorite book and what some refer to as “the original text behind The Secret”), James Allen writes that with our thoughts we create our world. He’s right. It’s beautifully (if not deceivingly) simple.
You can choose to feel good in every single moment.
Feel like sh*t? It’s because of what you are thinking in that moment (probably fear- or guilt-based thoughts). Feel elated? It’s because of what you are thinking in that moment (probably gratitude or satisfaction with the world). The best news? Every single thought can be changed! You can choose to feel good in every single moment.
Every day, in every way, always reach for your highest-feeling thought. Focus only on what you want. Visualize. The Law of Attraction works like the law of gravity. It’s real. Every single area of your life right now has been manifested as a result of your thoughts. So guard your thoughts like a pitbull (and lose the negative people, pronto).
In Life Loves You, Louise Hay suggests looking in the mirror and into your eyes every day and saying, “I love you. I really, really love you.” You do not need to do, have, be anything different to be worthy of love. You are worthy simply because you exist.
When you truly love yourself, you allow yourself to be the real you. When your self-love is high, you vibrate at a frequency that deflects fear and that inspires others to be themselves too. It’s alluring. It keeps you present. It allows you to reject self-sabotaging behaviors.
You don’t busy yourself with what other people are doing. You understand that your needs matter and that when you fail sometimes it’s OK because life is giving you either a lesson or a detour. Which leads us to...
Every biography I have read—from Steve Jobs’s to Maya Angelou’s—shares a similar truth: Do your best work and trust in a power that is bigger than you.
Here’s a little secret: We are all terrified. We are feel uncertain about a million things. We are all just doing the best we can. But when you apply the above principles of ownership, action, thinking, and self-love, you will be unstoppable. Why? Because you’re not alone here. We are all connected. We are all from the same source.
The universe’s helping hand is on call, waiting to lift you back up, literally on demand, as soon as you center yourself and allow the above truths into your life.
The higher power at work in our lives (call it God, the universe, source energy, it doesn’t matter) is working right alongside you—always. In moments of discouragement, don’t despair. Remember that you have already survived everything that has happened to you so far, and you will continue to do so. The universe’s helping hand is on call, waiting to lift you back up as soon as you center yourself and allow the above truths into your life.
Every life is special. You matter. Your dreams matter. It’s up to you to take action in the direction of your dreams, and when you do, you’ll be met halfway—I promise.
David J. Schwartz still talks to me. In the moments that I doubt myself (including this morning, when I needed to summarize 17 years’ worth of reading into five simple lessons), I hear his voice saying, “Believe it can be done. When you believe something can be done, really believe, your mind will find the ways to do it. Believing a solution paves the way to solution.”
Susie Moore is Greatist’s life coach columnist and a confidence coach in New York City. Sign up for her free weekly wellness tips on her website and check back every Tuesday for her latest column!
I've spent most of my life obsessed with my size. For a long time, I wanted to get rid of all of it. It felt disgusting and wrong to be big. It felt like I was failing at being beautiful.
I wanted to be tiny and adorable. I had this image in my head that I should be this little waif-like thing that boys could easily swing around. More profoundly, I thought becoming this little-bitty person would make me worthy of love.
Many years of soul work later, I no longer believe that narrative. In my own journey toward finding both fitness and myself, I have lived in many different body sizes. Armed with the information I need about exercise, nutrition, and my own body to lose weight, gain muscle, and achieve the results that I truly want for myself, I feel empowered. I'm not obsessed with numbers on the scale or numbers on the bar anymore. And from this much healthier, neutral place, I have fallen in love with being big.
I realize what people consider "big" is relative. But I feel big. So this isn't related to anyone else's definition of the word. It's how I refer to my own body. I also want to be clear that praising my own bigness is in no way an attack on thin or lean women. I don't support messages that lift up one type of body while ridiculing another. That wouldn't be empowerment. That would be bullying.
There are so many ways to be beautiful, to be strong, and to be happy in your skin. Since I let go of my own damaging self-talk, I have found so many things to love and celebrate about my body at every size. But here is what I enjoy about being big:
There are so many ways women are asked to be small that being proud of being big feels wonderfully radical. It's a tiny victory in a lifetime of feeling shame over my size.
With ad campaigns and weight-loss commercials constantly talking about "losing the jiggle," loving mine feels pretty rebellious. I (not so) secretly love to watch my thighs jiggle when I do plyos at the gym. I love watching the playback of training videos that involve seeing them move in slow motion. It's simultaneously silly and sexy to me.
One of the things I didn't enjoy when I was at my leanest was that I suddenly found sitting down less comfortable. Having always had plenty of "cushion" back there, it was odd to sit down and feel hardness. Having gained back some weight is like adding a nice cozy layer of pillows. What I used to squeeze and cry about in the mirror, I now find ease and comfort in. It's like cuddling with myself.
I'll be the first one to get angry about any messages concerning what a woman is supposed to look or feel like. All of those are damaging. But in my big body, I like feeling soft. I like the way my softness fills out clothing. I love my big, pillowy breasts (which are the first things I lose when I get leaner). It feels sexy to me to have softness to my body. I enjoy it.
This is especially true when I'm with my fitness pro friends at conferences. Maybe I love it because, in the past, being the biggest person in photos would send me into tears. But my hips take up more space than everyone else's, and I love it. It's not that I'm judging anyone else or measuring myself against anyone else in a ranking sort of way. It's just a cathartic experience for me to look at a photo and immediately see I'm the "big" one and not feel sad. I'm happy to be. It's beautiful.
Not being lean or having particularly defined muscles often leads to people dismissing my athletic abilities. Strangers underestimate my strength, endurance, and speed. There is something really satisfying about recognizing that small slight and breezing right through it. You cannot tell by looking at someone what they are capable of, and I love reminding people of that fact.
Because big bodies are not what women are told to have, I don't have people regularly complimenting my physique. My body doesn't look anything like a model you'd see on a runway or fitness magazine cover. In terms of Western beauty standards, I'm an outlier.
I look in the mirror and see nothing that I'm "supposed" to love and love it anyway. That kind of self-validation is powerful, and it's something we all need to give ourselves.
The wonderful thing about this is that I'm deciding I'm beautiful for myself. I look in the mirror and see nothing that I'm "supposed" to love and love it anyway. That kind of self-validation is powerful, and it's something we all need to give ourselves. Not getting any outside validation for my body forces a kind of self-love I don't know that I'd have otherwise. I can't look to others to tell me I'm OK. I have to do that for myself. And I do. Proudly.
Mostly, it just feels powerful to take up space without apology. Instead of crossing my legs and ankles and sucking in to try to be as compact as possible, I like to spread out. Power pose. I like that my bigness can be physically imposing if I need it to be. I love how dominant I feel stepping up to a deadlift. I just love taking up space. Not over others or more than others, but I take up all of the space I need.
I don't know where my fitness journey will take me. My leanest times involved a kind of training I'm not currently interested in pursuing. Perhaps my interests will change. If they do, my body will follow. I will love and appreciate my body wherever it goes. But for now, for today, I love being big.
This article originally appeared on Girls Gone Strong and was republished with the author's permission. Erin Brown is an author, speaker, and activist focusing on broadening the narrative of what it means to be a woman. Together with GGS, she produced A Conversation About Self Confidence. The views expressed herein are hers. Follow her on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.
What's it like walking through a mall while experiencing sensory overload? The crinkle of a balloon or the tapping of a shoe is enough to set you off, as this video from The National Autistic Society in the U.K. shows. Sensory-related issues are central to autism, and while we can never fully understand what it's like to live every day with autism, this video is a great way to start learning, especially considering April is National Autism Awareness month.
Siri has witty answers for many silly quesions (Just ask her "how much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?"). But if a user tells Siri or most other digital assistants "I was raped" or "I was beaten up by my husband," they respond with "I don't know what you mean."
These troubling findings were published in a recent study in JAMA Internal Medicine, and to Apple's credit, the company was quick to make changes. Now Siri responds with the phone number for the National Sexual Assault Hotline.
Regardless of how many people turn to Siri when they're in a moment of crisis, we're glad this feature exists to encourage people in dangerous situations to seek help. "These smartphones are not counselors or psychologists, but they can facilitate getting the person in need to the right help at the right time," Eleni Linos, M.D., one of the study's authors, told CNN.
Want to learn more? Check out more details on the study here.
Eye boogers, crusties, sleep sand, the sleep in your eyes. No matter what you call it, everyone wakes up with that curious gunk in the corner of their eyes sometimes. And many of us have wondered why it shows up after catching some shut-eye. This video from SciShow has your answer: Eye boogers develop as debris (mostly dust and dead skin cells) mix with the mucus and oil that form the tear film on top of your eye. Blinking usually bats this gunk away, but sleep means less blinking and more buildup in the corner of your eyes.
Always falling for the bad boy (or girl)? You can blame your parents, but it's not as Freudian as it sounds. This video from The School of Life explores what makes someone “our type,” and it turns out we tend to look for traits that mimic what we've seen in the romantic relationships we're most familiar with, namely mom and dad.
Unhealthy relationships may be the subconscious rearing its head, but before you text your parents saying they've set you up for a lifetime of failed romances, use this opportunity to reflect on what you're really looking for in that special someone.
With thick, wavy hair and glowing skin, Jill* looks even younger than her 25 years. But two pesky lines, furrowed deep into her forehead thanks to a brow-raising habit, had bothered her since college. "I eventually became obsessed with the concept of getting Botox to stop raising my eyebrows," she recalls. At 24, Jill got Botox as a preventative measure to keep the lines from getting worse.
We know what you may be thinking. Botox? At 24? The cosmetic procedure, first approved by the FDA in 1991, brings to mind older women obsessed with youth and reality stars with freaky, frozen faces. Plus, it’s technically a toxin that's injected with a needle. It just doesn’t sound like something tons of 20-somethings would seek out—right?
But Jill is hardly alone. In 2015, more than 6.7 million Botox procedures were performed, according to the American Society of Plastic Surgeons, making it the most common minimally invasive cosmetic procedure, with fillers a distant second.
And among those opting in, not all fit the preconceived demo. According a 2014 report, about 411,000 of those procedures were performed on men (a trend some have coined "brotox"), while about 100,000 were performed on people aged 20 to 29, a six percent increase from 2013. And in 2015, 64 percent of plastic surgeons saw an increase in young people under age 30 getting aesthetic procedures like Botox, reports the American Academy of Facial Plastic and Reconstructive Surgery (AAFPRS).
This surge of popularity isn’t slowing down any time soon. As Edwin Williams, M.D., president of the AAFPRS, stated in a press release, “We expect the demand for facial cosmetic procedures to continue to expand.”
Before we get into why, let’s talk about how. Botox is a prescription drug known as a neurotoxin that’s injected into facial muscles and temporarily reduces the appearance of lines around the eyes, mouth, and on the forehead. (Note: Botox is a trademarked name, and it goes by other brand names, such as Dysport and Xeomin, as well.)
“It temporarily interrupts the connection between nerves and muscles—it actually paralyzes the muscle,” says Arthur Perry, M.D., a plastic surgeon and adjunct associate professor of surgery at Columbia University. When those muscles aren’t able to contract, you can’t make those repeated facial expressions that, over time, create folds in the skin (a.k.a. wrinkles).
Another way of looking at it: “Think of your skin as piece of paper,” says Julie Russak, M.D., a dermatologist and associate professor at Mount Sinai Hospital. “The more you crinkle that paper, the more lines will be there. The less folding and crinkling, the smoother the paper will be.”
Yep. The real reason Botox has become so popular is because it works, Perry says. Study after study shows that it is an effective and safe way to reduce the appearance of facial lines.1
What’s more: Recent research shows that over time Botox can help the body “heal” existing wrinkles, Perry notes, and smooth the skin, which gives a more youthful appearance.
Though research is ongoing, studies suggest even more potential benefits to going under the needle, from improving hard-to-treat depression to decreasing excessive sweating to treating movement disorders.2
While getting a toxin injected into your face sounds terrifying, all of the docs we spoke with agreed the health risks are minimal.
It’s easy to get a funny appearance (think Spock-like eyebrows) if done wrong.
“It’s an extraordinarily safe drug,” Perry says. “The downsides are related to the artistic abilities of the doctor.” Translation: It’s easy to get a funny appearance (think Spock-like eyebrows) if done wrong. Perry also adds that while there is a remote chance of an allergic reaction, “the worst thing I’ve had happen is bruising,” he says.
While it may be safe, it's still scary for those with a fear of needles—not to mention pricey: A typical procedure usually runs between $300 to $500. So why are so many women opting to get Botox before they’ve reached 30?
The main reason: prevention. Proponents say that Botox can help prevent wrinkles from forming long before they’re ingrained on your face. And the research backs them up. One study followed twin sisters over a 13-year period, during which one received Botox two to three times per year and the other only got it only twice.3 You can probably guess the result: The regularly treated twin had less noticeable facial lines and crow’s feet.
Russak, for one, believes it’s best to start Botox before wrinkles develop. “We use it much sooner to prevent progression from dynamic wrinkles to static wrinkles,” she says. “But we use it in smaller quantities to give a much softer, relaxed look rather than a frozen one.”
That’s what spurred Alexa*, now 28, an interior designer, to start getting Botox at age 25. “My dermatologist, who I’ve seen for years, suggested I start it to prevent lines from forming,” she says. Although she worried she wouldn’t be able to show emotion or that people would notice, she ended up loving the results. “They aren’t noticeable to anyone but me, and I definitely feel good about doing something that might prevent future, more drastic measures, like a facelift,” she says.
Jill had similar concerns, but when she worked up the nerve to initially ask about Botox during a routine check-up, her derm assured her that “with a very small amount, she'd be able prevent the constant movement without making me appear frozen or crazy-looking,” she recalls.
Besides minor bruising after the injections, she really liked the results: “It doesn’t look like I’ve done anything at all, because I’m still able to move my brows.”
If you do it too early you’re simply wasting your money. Getting Botox at 22? That's crazy.
Of course, there’s always a catch. “If you do it too early, you’re simply wasting your money,” Perry says. “Getting Botox at 22? That’s crazy.” Say you spend $500 at three appointments per year, for example. That adds up to a whopping $1,500 per year—and easily more than $25,000 by the time you're in your 40s.
The right time to start, in Perry’s opinion, is when you begin to see the wrinkles. Anthony Youn, M.D., a plastic surgeon and author of The Age Fix, is even more cautious. “Injecting women in their 20s is a bit excessive to me,” he says, as most deep wrinkles aren't yet formed in that decade. And not only will you avoid the unnecessary cost, you’ll avoid the invasiveness of a toxin being injected into your body, he adds. “I wouldn’t recommend it for anyone under the age of 21 and ideally not before the age of 30.”
Let's be real: Does it hurt? Both Jill and Alexa say no. “It feels like a little pinch for just a second,” Jill says. Docs can also offer you numbing cream, which Jill used on her first visit but hasn’t since.
But here's the other big question you should ask: Why do you want to do it? “Give yourself a reality check about why you’re preoccupied with and afraid of getting older,” suggests Susan Krauss Whitbourne, Ph.D., professor of psychological and brain sciences at the University of Massachusetts Amherst. Here are a few points to keep in mind.
Give yourself a reality check about why you’re preoccupied with and afraid of getting older.
We live in a world that overvalues youth—just take a look at the wrinkle-free women on TV and in movies, as well as the stigma surrounding older actresses. (In an ironic twist, the media also applauds tan skin, Whitbourne says, making it difficult for anyone to achieve these impossible ideals.)
Remember that getting older is a beautiful thing with plenty of benefits—such as a more positive outlook and greater self-esteem. Rather than worrying about wrinkles, Whitbourne suggests devoting your energy to staying in good health by getting enough exercise, avoiding the sun, and eating a healthy diet. (If you need more of a mood boost, check out these 35 awesome body-positive mantras.)
Make sure you’re only doing it for you, Jill suggests. “If I was doing it for what other people thought, I wouldn't have done it at all—simply because of the amount of judgment I've received from friends.”
But they don’t have to look in the mirror at your face every day, Jill notes. While it may seem trite, Perry doesn’t downplay the effect of seeing a wrinkle in your 20s. “It marks the exit of childhood and the entrance into adulthood and your later life,” he says. “Looking at your own mortality is the basis of lots of cosmetic surgery.” Plus, some people who have spent more time in the sun or have particularly expressive faces may be more prone to wrinkles earlier in life.
It’s not about doing one strong treatment once—it's everyday care that matters.
There are plenty of anti-aging alternatives to try before resorting to a procedure, like over-the-counter retinol or prescription-strength tretinoin, Youn says. "Maintenance is important." Russak agrees. "It’s not about doing one strong treatment once—it's everyday care that matters." Make sure to apply sunscreen and an antioxidant cream every morning and exfoliate your skin two to three times per week, Youn suggests. “These steps will put you way ahead of the curve.”
If you’re still dead-set on obliterating lines, make sure you go to a reputable provider. With scammy online deals and sketchy Botox clinics, it can be tempting to go for the cheapest option. But don’t! “Only board-certified dermatologists and plastic surgeons should administer Botox,” Russak says. Do your research online and ask friends or family for referrals. (Here's more info on how to find one.) And remember, if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is.
*Names have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals.
