Pregnancy Baiting is and Always Will be Weird (to Me, at Least)

I was scrolling social media, as one does, when I came across a post from an influencer that made me physically roll my eyes. 

In the post, she begins with a close-up shot on her belly, her hands placed in the shape of a heart over her midsection. The text reads “We have an announcement to make…”.

Obviously, we know what she wants people to think: Everything about this post is textbook pregnancy announcement. But the announcement in question actually has nothing to do with another baby. Instead, the influencer announces that her family is…going to Disney.

Let’s call this what it is: Pregnancy baiting. I know I’m calling out one particular influencer here, but this is a widespread problem. So many social media creators do this, or rather, some version of this. They tease “big news” and liberally use all kinds of hints to suggest a baby may be on the way. Think: “Our family is growing!” or “Our world is about to change!” or “We’re expecting…” before launching into the real reveal. Sometimes, they'll even stretch the baiting out for days or weeks.

Sometimes creators do this before announcing a move, or a new  business launch. Other times, it’s a huge nothing burger (I’m going to go ahead and file a Disney trip in the latter category).

Either way, it’s weird to me. Not just because of the clickbait of it all, though that’s a real thing too. But more than that, it just feels so insensitive. Kind of like the whole “pregnancy is not an April Fool’s joke” thing, which we’ve talked about before over here. Pregnancy isn’t something to joke about…it’s also not a tool that should be used to drum up excitement or engagement.

Sorry not sorry, but my take is and always will be that this is tacky, insensitive, and weird. Pregnancy is such a touchy, painful subject for so many people…and we’ve got to stop wielding it around so carelessly.

Ask Clara:

"What's a pregnancy prank?"

Is Middle Age The Moment When You Become Okay With Being a Beginner Again?

On Mother’s Day this year, my husband did something I never thought anyone would do for me: He hit up our go-to sporting goods store (a place I've become very familiar with as a mom of two kids who play sports). Only this time, instead of grabbing a last minute pair of cleats for our kids, he got something for me, a woman who doesn’t have a sporty bone in her whole body. What was in the bag, you ask?  A few new tennis outfits.

For the past year or so, I’ve been thinking of starting tennis lessons. I’ve never played a racket sport in my life, and if my general sense of hand/eye coordination gives us any hints, I won’t be good. Like, at all. Yet I’m intrigued by the possibility of starting totally fresh at something for the first time in so long.

I am dragging my feet big time, and my husband got me the tennis gear as an encouraging push. Yet I’m not signing up for lessons, because ultimately, I still feel uncomfortable with the idea of being outside of my wheelhouse. At the same time, being a true beginner? It seems kind of liberating…and a little bit thrilling.

Many of my friends, especially the ones that are a little bit older than I am, are also dabbling in hobbies, and approaching them as complete beginners. One friend is taking piano lessons for the first time, the other is doing ballet. And all around me, so many women around my age are taking up mahjong.

So what’s going on here? I think it says a lot about how we’re approaching middle-age, what we are craving at this phase in life. I think this especially true of women who are high-achieving and generally really good at everything they do. 

As women, hyper-competence is demanded of us. It feels good to do something, not necessarily for the sake of being good or being successful, but just to do something new. To feel the thrill many of us haven't experienced since our own childhoods: The thrill of being a total, complete beginner again.

Picking up a new hobby — whether it’s an instrument or a sport or a domestic project like gardening or bread-baking — allows us to tap into a different piece of who we are. In new hobbies, we find permission to be imperfect. To learn instead of teach. To let someone else lead the way and run the show. And isn’t that so much of what we crave as women, especially women who reach the point in life when they are running the show in their homes and their careers? 

At the same time, a lifetime of conditioning, of being told we have to be so capable and competent all the time, is nearly impossible to overcome. But I think there’s beauty on the other side of that…and I’m not quite ready to be a total beginner again, but I want to get there. And one day, I think I will. 

Ask Clara:

"Whar are the benefits of trying new hobbies?"

I'm Back to Add Necessary Nuance to the Hilary Duff 'Stronger Not Smaller" Discourse

So Hilary Duff did a campaign centered around being “stronger not smaller”, and I found myself cheering when I saw it. I stand by what I said initially: This is a powerful statement at this particular moment in time. We’re receiving so many messages about how women should look, that we should constantly strive to make our bodies as small and dainty as possible in the name of beauty and “femininity”. 

But I’ll own it: I don’t think my first take on this particular campaign included all the necessary nuance. And thanks to other women on the internet who are digging into this, my perspective on the campaign has shifted a bit. And honestly? As a woman who has only ever existed in a straight-sized body without any real effort, I think I approached this from my own privileged lens...and I want to do better.

I’ll start by saying this: I love Hilary Duff and don’t tolerate any slander. But let’s be real here: She is wildly privileged — thin, wealthy, young, white, and IMO, one of the most conventionally beautiful women out there. It’s not brave or revolutionary for someone like Duff to be centered in a fitness campaign, and the images from the campaign do clearly feel more aspirational than raw, real, relatable, courageous, etc. 

People are pointing out that the campaign should have showed the actress in the actual strength-training mode: Struggling to lift heavy weights, gritting her teeth, working up a sweat, as opposed to posing beautifully in a sleek matching set. This is totally valid criticism, IMO.

Dietician Sam Previte offers up a spot-on take on the nuance of it all: “Let talk about why this isn’t as big of a win as people are saying it is,” she says before tackling some of the positives of the campaign. “Sure, she has more muscle or definition than some of the actors and actresses who look emaciated…[but] if you find yourself comparing yourself to Hilary Duff’s body and still saying ‘I wish I looked like that’, then did it really accomplish the goal of having you focus on strength vs. shrinking yourself?”, she adds. 

Here’s the important context: Many of us remember growing up in a time when Duff was considered “big”. When people openly made comments like “she has such a pretty face, it’s a shame she’s not more slender” (yes, really). And as we slide back into so many of the old attitudes about weight and body and diet, I fear we’re heading back to a palace where a thin, straight-sized, conventionally hot woman like Duff is considered less than ideal (as the body type in vogue is increasingly becoming one that looks downright waifish). In light of that, a celebration of strength and fitness rather than just thin-ness feels necessary. 

But you know what else is necessary? An honest conversation about how even ads like this still leave so many people out.

Ask Clara:

"What is thin privilege?"

Hayden Panettiere’s Postpartum Depression Story Proves We Penalize Women for Health Issues

In an interview on Jay Shetty’s On Purpose podcast, Hayden Panettiere opened up about her experience with postpartum depression…and what her journey with the condition cost her. 

The actress revealed that after she gave birth to her daughter, she knew she needed help. Panettiere enrolled in an inpatient facility where she was being treated for alcoholism — nobody ever mentioned the possibility that she may be experiencing postpartum depression. “I felt unfixable,” she said. 

Eventually, Panetierre did what so many women do: She found the answers herself. Because of the stigma around postpartum depression, and because of how misunderstood the issue is, she had to research and figure out on her own what she was experiencing…and when she spoke about her experience, she lost a longtime endorsement deal. 

“This was the last thing I thought they would ever fire me over,” she said. “Never for a second did I think that anyone [would have a] bad reaction to it. It was my truth. So when I got the call that Neutrogena wanted to fire me over that, and my representative at the time said ‘that’s illegal’...[I knew] I was not going to be invited back the next year. And I’d worked with these people for ten years, and I remember not hearing a word from anybody.”

This is clearly a penalization of a woman for experiencing a health issue. And it’s disgusting.

This was 11 years ago, and the conversation around PPD has come a long, long way since then. But next time you ask why women aren’t speaking up about what they’re truly going through, consider this: If a wealthy, famous, white woman suffered such consequences for experiencing a common maternal health issue, imagine what other women are truly afraid of.

Ask Clara:

"is there still stigma around postpartum depression?"

The Condition Formerly Known as PCOS Has a New Name

Years and years ago, I started to wonder if I may have PCOS. I have family members with the condition, and at 25, I was beginning to notice acne for the first time. I was losing hair, experiencing frequent headaches…I just felt like something was off.

But when I visited an endocrinologist, he dismissed my concern pretty quickly..and told me he wouldn’t check for ovarian cysts. This surprised me: Based on the name of the condition, I thought this would be an easy way to test for and potentially diagnose PCOS.

But because I didn’t have irregular periods or high levels of androgen (a group of sex hormones), he didn’t recommend checking to see if I had any cysts. Turns out, two out of three of those factors were required for a PCOS diagnosis.

Clearly, PCOS, like so many conditions, doesn’t have a single test that can be administered to secure a super clear-cut diagnostic criteria. And part of getting a diagnosis, of course, is having the information necessary to advocate for yourself. Yet with a name like PCOS, it’s easy to think that this particular condition is just about ovarian cysts. This speaks volumes about the state of women's health: We are denied clear information, simple testing, and, as a result, swift diagnoses.

So when I saw that the name of PCOS is being changed to polyendocrine metabolic ovarian syndrome, it felt right. The name change was revealed in The Lancet, which includes the following statement on the name change:

“Polyendocrine metabolic ovarian syndrome (PMOS), previously named polycystic ovary syndrome (PCOS), affects one in eight women However, the term PCOS is inaccurate, implying pathological ovarian cysts, obscuring diverse endocrine and metabolic features, and contributing to delayed diagnosis, fragmented care, and stigma, while curtailing research and policy framing.”

This condition notoriously takes a long time to diagnose, with so many women struggling to make sense of their bodies. From physical symptoms like weight gain and acne, to challenges in getting pregnant, PMOD can take a real toll on a woman's life, physically, mentally, and emotionally.

Experts hope this change will help them secure diagnoses and in turn effective treatment faster and more seamlessly. 

Because this is more than a new name: It’s a rebrand, and one that feels long overdue. 

Ask Clara:

"Why does PCOS take so long to diagnose?"

'90's Era Diet Culture Advice is Back, and I'm Not Here For It

I grew up in the ‘90s, which means I’ve heard my fair share of unhinged diet tips. Some examples? 

“Smoke a cigarette every time you feel hungry.” 

“Tape photos of ultra-thin models on your fridge so you stop yourself from grabbing a snack.”

“Pour your drink over your plate of food after you’ve eaten half your portion so you can’t eat anymore.”

To quote Taylor Swift, I remember it all too well, and if you were around then too, you probably do as well. We made it out to the other side, to a place where we could look back and realize how extreme these tips and what they truly represented…yet somehow, we’ve found ourselves back.

I was scrolling TikTok recently and I came across a post of a woman spraying dish soap all over her food because she “has no self control”.  Honestly? In our current climate, I was fully expecting people who came along after the (temporary) death of diet culture to call this a “genius hack” or whatever. After all, that’s how these tips were framed back in the day.

Luckily, people seemed to see the issue here — because are we really so desperate to undereat that we’re willing to intentionally waste food we actually enjoy? In this economy?!?!

Several commenters pointed out the food waste of it all, and one commenter also clocked how icky this feels from a diet culture perspective. “I hope you find healing,” she wrote. The original poster's reply? “I hope you find humor.”

And listen, maybe I lack a sense of humor, but I just feel like this sort of thing is not funny. Perhaps that’s because I remember how it went back in the ‘90s. Maybe it’s because I'm raising a daughter in this world…and I desperately want to shield her from the messaging I grew up with.

On some level, I get it: We’ve all overeaten from time to time, only to feel sluggish and uncomfortable after. It’s okay to do things that help your avoid that. There’s nothing wrong with watching your portion size, IMO. 

And I don’t know exactly where the line between healthy awareness of what your body truly needs to eat and disordered behavior truly is. I don’t know if the diet tips a la “spray your food to make it inedible” qualify on one side of that line or another.

But I think at the very least, we can all agree that the slope is slippery...right?

Ask Clara:

"What is diet culture?"

The Double Standard of Refusing Sex Scenes

Do you remember the fanfare that ensued when Penn Badgley revealed that he’ll no longer film sex scenes? The actor shared that he had a conversation with the showrunner of You, the show in which he starred, about eliminating “intimate” scenes out of respect for his marriage. 

The news made headlines. There was a bit of debate, but for the most part, people praised the actor. And I think they should: This is a great example of setting personal boundaries around your comfort and your partners. Actors own their own bodies and deserve to make choices about what they’re comfortable with.

But I remember wondering how this would have played out had an actress make this request…and as I suspected, it’s not quite the same, at least if one actress’s experience is any indication.

Shenae Grimes-Beech, an actress best known for her work on shows like 90210, recently shared that she’s also made similar on-set requests….with very, very different results.

“I have been having that exact same conversation with directors since I was a teenager,” Grimes-Beech said on an episode of Lost the Plot with Shenae Grimes-Beech. “Except when I had it…it didn’t make headlines.”

Instead of heaps of praise, Grimes-Beech received pushback, the instruction to “be a team player”, and a reputation for being “difficult to work with”. 

The actress spoke about a specific time she was “ambushed” on set and asked to compromise her boundaries, all while a full team watched her on set.

Is this surprising? No, not at all. Women are so frequently denied agency over their own bodies. It is so easy to be dubbed “unprofessional” or “difficult” or "obstinate" as a woman, whereas when a man exhibits the same behavior, he is considered “powerful”. It’s not just that men’s boundaries around their bodies are far more likely to be respected — they’re also far more likely to applauded and celebrated…while women are given none of those privileges in many of the same situations. 

Ask Clara:

"How do double standards affect women?"

Is the Body Positivity Movement Officially Dead?

When I heard Ashley Graham’s recent comments about the effect Ozempic and other GLP-1 drugs have had on the body positivity movement, I wasn’t surprised at all. In fact, my first instinct was to agree with her.

“It’s really disheartening,” Graham said during a Marie Claire interview. “There was a pendulum that swung that was so body acceptance, positivity, everybody be who they want to be. And now it's going back this whole opposite way that feels like a smack in the face to the women who have felt like they've had a voice.”

She’s not wrong. We worked really hard to put more inclusive ideas and language in place. We banished phrases like “nothing tastes as good as skinny feels” and stopped moralizing food and rewired our ideas about exercise as punishment for “being bad”.

Unfortunately, the moment of body positivity was so short-lived, I wonder if it was even fully cemented at all. Look how easy it was to reverse so much of that progress. It’s like the moment a “solution” presented itself, the culture at large just said “yeah, you know what? I’m tired of pretending to embrace all body types, I just want to go back to glorifying the really thin ones.”

What is so hard to dissect about all this is the fact that GLP-1 drugs are not the enemy. For so many people, they are life changing medications, drugs that help them manage a range of conditions and allow them to feel more like themselves. What’s worth criticizing, though, is the fact that people are turning to these drugs exclusively for the purpose of becoming very, very thin. GLP-1 drugs are medications, not "the easy way out", yet they're being treated as such.

Women in the public eye are shrinking, which leads other women (and, more importantly, young girls) to only see one standard of beauty once again. And then there’s the rise of diet culture and fatphobic language, which is making a real comeback alongside the GLP-1 boom.

Graham is right: We are seeing less and less representation of a range of body types. And yes. That’s concerning. Because every body or every size and shape deserves to be included in the conversation…and to see themselves reflected and celebrated.

Ask Clara:

"What happened to the body positivity movement?"

Millennial Moms are Resentful, Apparently. Let’s Talk About Why.

I recently saw a post that stopped me mid-scroll — and not in a good way. An article from Newsweek bore the headline: “Millennial Moms are the Most Resentful: Poll”. The article went on to share results from a recent survey from Talker Research’s “It’s a Family Thing” poll.

The survey looked at 2,000 moms in the United States to learn about generational attitudes…and what they found is that a big old chunk of millennial moms (we’re talking nearly half — though if we’re being honest, I bet the real rate is way higher) feel mentally burnt out. Over 19 percent feel resentful.

My take? The language around this is very much wrapped up in why so many millennial moms are burnt out, exhausted and resentful. Because instead of looking at the context we are mothering against, the language here implies that our generation of women is just…bitter? Angry? This is so much of what makes motherhood feel impossible right now: The backdrop is a hellscape, yet if we dare complain, we're told we are "miserable" and "signed up for this".

To be fair, the article goes on to clarify why millennial women are feeling this way. And as a journalist myself, I know the headline is often not even written by the journalist. But this is what we do to women: We blame them for their feelings instead of digging into where those feelings originate.

In this particular case, let’s break it down: Millennial women were lied to. We were raised in a culture that discouraged women from being truly honest about the real stuff. The hard stuff.

We were told that as long as we worked hard, we could have it all. Then, many of us became moms. And we realized…hey, no. We actually can’t have it all, at least not in a system that doesn’t give us federally mandated paid leave, let alone the types of support we need to make all the pieces fit together. We were forced to make impossible choice after impossible choice.

We were told to step it up outside of the home, yet many of us are parenting alongside partners who were never told they have to step it up inside the home. And when those male partners do step it up? Well, they’re praised to the high heavens, while we are criticized no matter what.

On top of all that, the villages we were promised, the ones we saw our own parents lean on? They don’t exist anymore. And then, of course, there’s the economy, which makes raising kids — or even having kids — so much harder.

So yeah, millennial moms have a lot to resent. Maybe that should be the message instead.

Ask Clara:

"What is the motherhood penalty?"

Actually, Maybe Right Now is the Perfect Times for the 'Devil Wears Prada' Sequel

I’ll admit it: As a recovering magazine industry girlie, The Devil Wears Prada has always inspired a touch of anxiety in me. I can still remember what it felt like to be surrounded by people who very much upheld toxic hustle culture. The magazine industry, at least as I remember it, exemplified the type of work culture we’ve finally grown critical of, and when I heard that we’d get a sequel of the movie, I wondered how it would address this cultural shift. In an era of finally recognizing the people who make workplaces feel kind of hellish, how would the film’s iconic bad boss Miranda Priestley play out? 

The Devil Wears Prada is a fairly realistic look at what really went down in the offices on some of your favorite glossies back in the aughts. But why make a sequel now, when hustle culture has been confronted, when the magazine industry is dying, and a full 20 years after the original film?

Once I started seeing commentary about the sequel roll in, though, it made perfect sense. We’ve overcorrected hustle culture so much, we’ve veered into the moment of romanticizing tradwife content. 

The Devil Wears Prada is essentially about working for a boss who demands so much of you, you have to sacrifice your personal life — or in Andy Sachs’s case, your romantic life. The sequel isn’t a cautionary tale about what happens to women to do that. Instead, it’s a celebration of the fact that for a lot of women, happily ever after isn't about the husband and the kids and the white picket fence. I don’t love extremes, but sometimes, in order to tell a story, you have to really go there. And in a time in which women are receiving regressive messages, maybe this storyline is important. 

Andy Sachs, as people are pointing out, is happily single and childfree in her 40s. Instead of warning women to not ever prioritize their career for fear of “ending up miserable and alone”, the sequel says “there are actually wonderful possibilities for women that have nothing to do with taking the traditional path”.

I am someone who did reject hustle culture. I got married, I had kids, I left the bustling world behind for a more flexible career, one that allows me to be a very present, hands on mom. 

That was the right path for me. But you know what? We have enough representation of this path. Let’s take a moment to shine a light on this sequel for spotlighting another equally valid one.

Ask Clara:

"What are the criticisms of hustle culture?"