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Let’s set the scene: the stadium is buzzing, the crowd is electric, and it’s the perfect moment for lighthearted entertainment between plays. Enter the Kiss Cam — a beloved (or dreaded) tradition where the camera pans through the crowd, landing on unsuspecting couples for a quick smooch and a round of applause. But this time, the OH Kiss Cam gave us more drama than a soap opera. If you haven’t seen the viral clip by now, spoiler alert: it wasn’t all hugs and kisses. The camera zooms in on a man sitting beside a woman — not his wife, as later confirmed. The moment he realizes he's been "caught," panic sets in. He quickly leans away, the woman awkwardly laughs, and the internet does what it does best: explodes. So, let’s talk about it. Was the Kiss Cam in the wrong? Or was he just caught red-handed? The Case for “You Were Caught” Look, if you're cozying up with someone who isn't your partner in a public place, you’re playing with fire. Stadiums are full of cameras, eyes, and now, millions of TikTok users ready to dissect every glance. If you're not doing anything shady, why look like you're trying to disappear into your nachos the second the lens finds you? Kiss Cams aren't lie detectors, but they are mirrors. Sometimes what they reflect is exactly what needs to be seen. In this case, the man’s reaction said everything — not with words, but with body language. And while we’re not here to judge relationships (okay, maybe just a little), the optics were not  good. The Case for “Leave People Alone” Then again, is it the role of the Kiss Cam to play morality police? What started as a sweet tradition now has the potential to air real-life drama in front of tens of thousands of people. That’s not entertainment — that’s humiliation. Some argue that the cameras should come with a disclaimer: "Smile! You’re on potentially life-altering television!" And should a relationship, marriage, or family be put on blast for a few seconds of questionable judgment? Privacy in public spaces is already thin. Do we need to turn awkward moments into viral think pieces? The Reality: Public Is Public Here’s the uncomfortable truth: when you’re out in public — whether at a game, a bar, or even a grocery store — your behavior is fair game. The Kiss Cam didn’t catch anyone in their home. It saw them in a stadium, under the lights, in the crowd. So if you’re doing something you wouldn’t want your partner, your mom, or the internet to see, maybe don’t do it — or at least don’t do it courtside during a televised game. The OH Kiss Cam Drama is the latest in a long list of public-private clashes in the digital age. Was it fair? Maybe. Was it messy? Absolutely. But one thing’s for sure — if you’re not ready for the world to see what you’re doing, maybe you’re not prepared to be doing it in the first place. Lights, camera, consequences. Chime in!

Can’t sleep? Hot flashes hijacking your meetings? Mood swings that make you question your humanity? Anxiety that convinces you everyone hates you, even though they’re just busy? Ahem… ED? (Yes, gentlemen, we see you.) We’re a generation caught between hormone patches, antidepressants, and little blue pills that promise to restore the magic in the bedroom. Menopause shows up like an uninvited guest who trashes the place, and anxiety has become the plus-one none of us remembers inviting. Meanwhile, some of the men we’re dating are popping performance pills with a prayer and a protein shake. And honestly? No judgment. Science is great. Modern medicine is miraculous. Take the meds. Use the patch. Rock the Viagra if that’s your vibe. But can we discuss the other things? The real stuff? Because no pill can fix feeling invisible, no patch makes up for a partner who never asks how your day was. No supplement fills the hole left by years of shrinking yourself to fit someone else’s comfort zone. Men: We know ED isn’t just about sex—it’s about identity, intimacy, vulnerability. It’s okay to talk about it. We’d rather  talk about it than pretend it’s not happening. Women: Menopause isn’t a flaw to fix. It’s not the end of your desirability or your sanity. It’s a transition—not a termination. And anxiety? It’s not a weakness. It’s your body trying to keep up in a world that demands way too much. So, yes—there’s a pill for that. But there’s also: Talking to your doctor and  your therapist Being honest with your partner instead of faking your way through it Not apologizing for needing support Unlearning shame around sex, aging, and mental health Remembering that you’re still hot, hilarious, and worthy—sweat mustache and all. Healing isn’t just in the medicine cabinet. It’s in connection, communication, and calling out the double standards that say men get “refreshed” and women get “hormonal.” So take the pill. Or don’t. But take back your story while you’re at it. Because the real prescription? Compassion. Truth. And a whole lot of “I’m still figuring it out, but I’m showing up anyway.” And there’s no  co-pay for that. Stay in the game, peeps!

When rock interprets heartbreak   Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet has been retold countless times. Still, Mark Knopfler’s 1980 song “Romeo and Juliet” did something unusual — it turned the tragedy into a rock ballad about a modern relationship gone wrong.  The song appeared on Dire Straits’ album Making Movies and was released as a single in January 1981.  Interestingly, it was not issued as a single in the United States but reached No. 8 on the UK singles chart and No. 5 in Ireland.  Right from the opening arpeggiated resonator‑guitar part, Knopfler’s playing sets an intimate mood that builds to an emotional climax before fading back to his voice and guitar.   For many divorcees who once believed in fairy tales, the tune resonates because it acknowledges that not every love story ends happily — sometimes one partner moves on while the other is left holding the memories.  Let’s explore why this song still hits so hard more than four decades later.   A breakup captured in song: Knopfler wrote the song after his relationship with singer Holly Vincent ended.  In an interview, she described their romance as a “scene” that ended because he “couldn’t handle it,” and Knopfler felt used; he later suggested that she was using him to boost her career.  That resentment surfaces in the lyric where the narrator hears Juliet casually say she “used to have a scene with” him.  The song is not a mutual declaration of undying love; it is a one‑sided lament from a man still in love with a woman who has moved on.   Lyrics that mirror a divorcee’s inner monologue: The song’s story differs from Shakespeare’s tragedy: here, Juliet leaves Romeo after finding fame rather than succumbing to family feuds.  Knopfler alludes to the original play and to the songs “Somewhere” (from West Side Story ) and “My Boyfriend’s Back” , highlighting the contrast between romantic fantasy and messy reality.  Romeo can’t forget their past: he “misses the way we used to be” and claims he can’t do “love songs like they’re meant to be”.  He pours out his devotion — “I can’t do everything, but I’ll do anything for you” — while she brushes him off with the cruel line that inspires the chorus: “When you gonna realize it was just that the time was wrong, Juliet?”   Anyone who has been through a divorce understands this dynamic.  One partner might still be rehearsing the relationship’s highlights, replaying promises and small moments (“all I do is kiss you through the bars of a rhyme”), while the other has mentally checked out.  The song conveys the loneliness of loving someone who is no longer there — a feeling many divorcees are all too familiar with.   Music that underlines the ache: The National Style “O” resonator guitar used in the introduction — the same model later featured on the cover of Brothers in Arms — lends the song a ghostly, bluesy quality.  The arpeggios ring out over a sparse rhythm before the band swells in the chorus.  This arrangement mirrors the emotional arc: the verses are reflective and quiet. At the same time, the choruses erupt with frustration when Romeo cries out for Juliet to recognize that they were destined to love each other.  The minimalist instrumentation allows the lyrics to cut through; as a listener, you feel as if you’re eavesdropping on someone’s private grief.   A cautionary tale for romantics: Because the song is rooted in Knopfler’s own breakup, it feels authentic — it isn’t a fairy tale but a cautionary tale.  Ultimate Classic Rock described the track as bridging Shakespeare , West Side Story , and a modern love story “where fame, not family, is keeping the young lovers apart”.  That observation speaks to many relationships that falter under career ambitions or incompatible life paths.  In the song, Juliet leaves the “rough neighbourhood” for a better life; the narrator stays behind, clinging to a past she has outgrown.  Divorcees often face a similar reality — the life you envisioned together no longer aligns with who you have become.   Legacy and covers: Although never a U.S. single, “Romeo and Juliet” has become one of Dire Straits’ signature songs.  It appeared on live albums such as Alchemy and The Night, and has been covered by artists including the Indigo Girls and The Killers .  The Killers’ singer Brandon Flowers called it “one of the finest songs ever”.  Its enduring appeal lies in the universality of heartbreak: listeners of any generation — especially those nursing wounds from a divorce — can project their own story onto Romeo’s lament.   Why it belongs on Divorcee Dish : At first glance, a song about star‑crossed lovers might seem out of place on a blog for divorcees.  Yet “Romeo + Juliet” is precisely the kind of art that helps us process the messy end of a relationship.  It reminds us that your story is not unique ; even rock stars endure breakups that leave them feeling unseen and disposable.  The track also challenges the myth that every romance is destined for a “happily ever after.”  Real life is complicated, timing matters, and sometimes love dies despite the promises.   Listening to Knopfler sing about watching his Juliet walk away can be a cathartic experience.  It allows us to sit with our grief, to recall the good and the bad, and eventually to acknowledge that clinging to a person who has moved on will only prolong the pain.  Ultimately, the song doesn’t resolve the lovers’ story, nor does it provide easy answers.  It simply presents the rawness of loss — and by doing so, it invites us to release our own Romeo or Juliet and step into a new chapter. Your story is just beginning!

Have you ever had that strange moment after your divorce when you instinctively reached for your ring finger—only to find bare skin? Yeah, me too. More than once. It’s wild how something as small as a ring can become such a big part of your muscle memory. Whether you were married for a year or two decades, that band on your finger wasn't just jewelry—it was routine, identity, a placeholder for promises, and a visible symbol of commitment. And then, suddenly, it's gone. I recall a time I reached for it after my divorce. I had just gotten off the phone, absentmindedly went to spin it the way I used to when I was nervous, and paused mid-motion, my hand hovering over nothing. That empty finger hit me like a wave of relief, grief, confusion, and nostalgia—all of it. It happened again when I was washing my hands, instinctively trying to slide it off before drying. Or when I was out and someone mentioned “husband,” and I glanced at my hand out of habit, maybe to remind myself of who I used to be. Maybe to confirm that I wasn’t that person anymore. Here’s what I’ve realized: reaching for the ring doesn’t mean you want the marriage back. It doesn’t mean you regret the divorce. It just means you're human. That gesture, that flick of the thumb, that twist of the finger—isn’t about love or loss. It’s about what was. It's the body's way of catching up with the heart. And over time? You’ll reach for it less and less. Eventually, the reflex fades. Or maybe it transforms. Perhaps instead of reaching for a ring, you get your phone to call a friend. Or come to your journal to write something honest. Or pursue your passport, your goals, and your future. So if you’ve had that moment, reaching for something that’s no longer there, please know that you’re not alone. It’s part of the process and a sign that you’re healing, even in the smallest of gestures. And the next time it happens? Take a deep breath, smile at your growth, and remember how strong you are, rather than looking back.

They tell you love is the glue that holds a marriage together. That if you love someone enough, everything else will fall into place. But what happens when the love is still there, and the marriage still ends? It’s one of the most emotionally complicated experiences anyone can go through: divorcing someone you still love. Not someone you hate. Not someone who betrayed you or broke your spirit. But someone you still care for. Someone you still laugh with. Someone whose presence still feels familiar and warm, yet whose life no longer fits alongside yours. When Love Is Real, But So Is Reality There’s a quiet grief that comes with leaving a marriage like this. It’s not loud and rage-filled. It doesn’t come with broken dishes or shouting matches. It comes with silence. With soul-searching. With those long, tired looks across the dinner table, where both of you know... this isn’t sustainable. You love each other, but you’ve stopped growing together. Or you want different things. Or you’ve lost the ability to communicate without hurting each other. You may still reach for their hand during a movie or know how they take their coffee. You may still remember their childhood stories or admire their sense of humor. But love, on its own, can’t solve misalignment. It can’t fix years of unmet emotional needs, mismatched values, or repeated wounds that never quite healed. You Start to Wonder: Am I a Terrible Person? When there’s no dramatic betrayal or abuse to point to, the guilt is immense. Society teaches us that divorce is the last resort, reserved only for truly broken relationships. So when you leave someone who’s “not that bad”—or even someone good—it feels selfish. You wrestle with thoughts like:- “Why am I doing this if I still love them?”- “What will people think of me?”- “What if I regret this?” The truth is, you can love someone and still choose yourself. That’s not selfish. That’s self-respect. Loving someone does not obligate you to remain in a marriage that depletes your joy, stifles your growth, or quietly breaks your spirit. The Slow Burn of Letting Go This kind of divorce isn’t explosive. It’s slow. It’s painful in its subtlety. You may grieve more deeply because it wasn’t a clean break. You still get a pang in your chest when their name pops up on your phone. You still feel the familiar warmth when you laugh at an inside joke, even months after the separation. You may even miss the comfort of the routine: shared meals, lazy Sunday mornings, planning for the future. The hardest part? Realizing that loving someone doesn’t mean you're meant to build forever with them. And maybe that’s the heartbreak we don’t talk about enough—the one where there was no dramatic ending, just a quiet decision to let go of a relationship that no longer served either of you, even if the love still lingered. Loving Them… From a Distance Some people imagine divorce as the end of love, but that’s not always true. You can still love them in a different way. You can still respect their journey, wish them happiness, and root for their healing, even as you focus on your own. That doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human. And if you have children? That love from a distance becomes even more important. Co-parenting with compassion, setting healthy boundaries, and modeling emotional maturity are among the hardest—but most powerful—things you can do for your kids. Give Yourself Permission So here’s what I want you to know if you’re going through this: You're not broken for leaving someone you still love.- You are not cruel for wanting more for yourself.- You are not a failure for choosing peace over partnership. It takes enormous courage to walk away from “almost enough.” To say, “This love matters, but I still need something different.” Love isn’t always about holding on. Sometimes it’s about letting go—gently, respectfully, and with all the grace you can muster. And if you’re in the midst of that letting go, I see you. I’ve been you. It’s hard. It isn’t very clear. It’s lonely. But it’s also an opening. An opening for the kind of life and love that doesn’t just survive—but aligns, supports, and uplifts. Keep following @DivorceeDish for more unfiltered truth, honest stories, and encouragement for those navigating life and love after marriage. Because we don’t just survive divorce—we rise from it. We are unfiltered - telling the truth from our followers! xoxo Erin

Ah, mid-summer. That sweet spot when everything feels sticky—your sunscreen, your margarita glass, and maybe even your situationship. This season always seems to come with high expectations: rooftop romance, flirty texts, steamy nights, and maybe— just maybe —someone who doesn’t flake after three good dates and a shared Spotify playlist. A girl or boy can dream, right? But here we are. July. And depending on your dating app mileage, you're either: Burned out by bad bios , Clinging to a maybe , In a no-strings situationship that has way too many strings , or Thoroughly enjoying the peace of not being emotionally available to anyone except your dog and your favorite coffee shop barista. —not a sampler platter. So here’s your check-in, straight from the dish: Are You Hot… or Just Ignoring Red Flags? It’s easy to mistake butterflies for intuition and good chemistry for a green light. But remember: just because someone is cute in a baseball cap doesn’t mean they’re emotionally available . If you’re hearing things like:“I’m not looking for anything serious,”“I just got out of something,” or“I don’t believe in labels,” Then, congrats—you're not dating, you're babysitting emotional baggage. And no one has time for that. You’re not a life coach. You’re a whole meal. The “It’s-Complicated” Summer Scenarios Mid-summer often brings the weird middle ground in new relationships: not quite exclusive, not quite casual. Suddenly, someone’s inviting you to a wedding as a plus-one, but also forgetting to text back for three days. What?! Here’s the truth: if someone makes you feel like you’re on the back burner, light your damn fire and roast marshmallows by yourself. You’re not here for confusion. You’re here for connection. There’s a difference. Single and Thriving: A Mid-Summer Flex Let’s be real. Some of us are not dating at all right now —and it’s the best thing we’ve ever done. You know what I’ve found joy in this summer? Solo walks with my favorite playlist Reading on my porch with a cold drink and zero drama Booking trips without consulting anyone Saying “no” without guilt Not shaving. Not once. You don’t have to be in a relationship to be in love with life. Some of the most satisfying love stories start with the person staring back in the mirror. (Even if she still eats popcorn for dinner and cancels plans to stay home.) Mid-summer dating can feel like a confusing cocktail—equal parts sweet, sour, and occasionally too pungent. But if you remember who you are, stay grounded in what you want, and refuse to settle for anything less than genuine love, you’ll be just fine. Whether you’re swiping, healing, flirting, or thriving solo, your summer story doesn’t need a co-star to be worth telling. So turn up the music. Reapply that SPF. And if you’re gonna text someone first, make sure they’re worth  your sparkle. You’re not just surviving summer, love. You’re slaying it. Keep dishing, Divorcee Dish

After divorce, it’s easy to focus on what’s been lost—partnership, routine, security, even identity. But there’s another subtle, aching void that often lingers quietly in the background: the absence of human touch. Not just the physical kind, although that can be its lonely mountain to climb. I’m talking about the emotional, compassionate, soul-affirming type of touch. The kind that tells us we're seen. Heard. Cared for. That we matter—not as someone’s spouse or parent or ex—but just as a human being who still craves connection. When a relationship ends, especially one rooted in years of shared space and intimacy, we can become wary of vulnerability. Guarded. We may put up walls under the guise of “healing,” telling ourselves we need time, solitude, independence. And yes, all of that is true. But even the strongest, most self-sufficient souls need tenderness. We need people. We need warmth. We need the soft stuff. Here’s what I’ve learned post-divorce: You can be resilient and still want a hand to hold. You can love your alone time and still miss the comfort of a morning hug. You can be a fiercely independent divorcee… and still long for passion. Compassion is often the first step. And ironically, it starts with offering it to yourself. Be gentle with your timeline. Stop apologizing for still missing them, or for not missing them at all. Let yourself cry. Let yourself laugh. Let yourself be messy, brilliant, and heart-open. Passion for life. Passion for adventure. Passion for that spark that might light up again in someone’s eyes across the room. This doesn’t mean rushing into something or forcing chemistry. It means allowing yourself to feel again. Flirt a little. Daydream a little. Fall in love with the way someone makes you laugh—or how your skin tingles when they brush your hand. You are not broken. You are beautifully human. And part of being human is the need and craving for connection. Real, raw, unfiltered connection. So, if you’re reading this and feeling like you’ve lost the “human” in “human touch,” take this as your sign. Reconnect. Reach out. Let the armor fall, just a little. Because on the other side of heartbreak, there’s still room for compassion. And passion. And everything in between. Cheer to you on your journey! Erin

There’s no manual for the moment someone you thought you knew suddenly vanishes from your life without explanation. No warning. No goodbye. Just silence. And that silence? It’s deafening. We often discuss heartbreak, healing, and the complexities in between. But there’s a special kind of pain that comes when someone—maybe a partner, a close friend, even family—stops showing up. You scroll through old texts, photos, and memories, trying to pinpoint the moment everything shifted. Spoiler alert: you won’t find it. Because often, they didn’t change gradually—they just disappeared . And the person you knew? Suddenly, it feels like a ghost in your life. Here’s the hard truth: People don’t always provide closure. Sometimes they leave mid-chapter, and you’re left holding the pen, trying to finish a story you didn’t realize was ending. You ask yourself, “How could they just stop talking to me?” But maybe the better question is, “Why did I believe they were someone who wouldn’t?” What makes this kind of loss sting is that it forces you to re-examine not just the relationship, but yourself. Were you blind to the signs? Were they pretending all along? Were you too much? (Spoiler again: You weren’t.) When someone ghosts, it doesn’t mean you were unworthy—it means they lacked the courage to communicate. Authentic connection requires vulnerability, maturity, and respect. If someone can’t offer you that, their silence is a twisted gift: it shows you who they truly are. So if someone you once loved or trusted becomes unrecognizable in the shadows of silence, let them go. Let the version of them you held onto fade. You don’t need answers to heal. You need to know your worth doesn’t shrink based on someone else’s inability to love you well. This is your reminder: Sometimes losing someone who vanishes without a word is the universe clearing space for people who won’t. If someone cuts you off, you may want to find a reason for their action, but honestly, they are not worth your time. You deserve presence. You deserve honesty. And you deserve people who choose  you, even when it’s uncomfortable to stay. Stay Strong Erin

Let’s get straight: if communication isn’t happening, neither is the relationship. We’ve all been there—on the edge of our seat, waiting for a text back, decoding a vague message, or wondering if the awkward silence means something (spoiler: it does). And if you've gone through a divorce, chances are communication—or the lack thereof—played some part in the unraveling. So why repeat the cycle? Let’s call it what it is: non-communicators are exhausting. These are the folks who leave you on read, dodge anything that remotely smells like vulnerability, and treat emotional conversations like landmines. They'll say, “I’m just not good at talking about feelings,”  as if that’s an endearing quirk, not a red flag waving like a matador’s cape. Here’s the thing: in this post-divorce, self-aware, taking-no-BS chapter of your life, communication isn’t a bonus—it’s the baseline. You deserve someone who picks up the phone, not someone who ghosts until it's convenient. You deserve clarity, not breadcrumb texts or cryptic “u up?” messages at midnight. You’ve already done the emotional labor of trying to pull words out of someone. You’re not a therapist or a mind-reader—you’re a human wanting a real connection. Healthy relationships are built on mutual respect, emotional safety, and (you guessed it) communication. That means checking in, saying, “Hey, this bothered me,” or “I liked spending time with you,” without it turning into a three-act drama or disappearing act. So, cut the cord if you find yourself chasing clarity, wondering what they meant, or feeling like you're talking to a wall. You’re not asking for too much. You’re asking the wrong person. Trust me: life after divorce is too short and full of potential to waste on people who can’t speak and say how they feel. Communicate or keep it moving.  That’s the new rule. Block out those you are scared of communication - sadly, that seems to be the theme on repeat for many folks.... know there is someone out there that wants to communicate with you ...you just haven't found them yet. It will be worth it in the long run. No respect, means steer clear. Cheers, Erin

There’s something about summer that feels lighter, looser, and a little more open to possibility. Maybe it’s the warm nights, spontaneous getaways, or rooftop cocktails—but when the temperature rises, so does the potential for a bit of romance. Enter: the summer fling. But in an age of dating apps, situationships, and ghosting, are summer flings still a thing? Or have they melted away like an ice cream cone in July? The Golden Age of the Fling Let’s rewind. Summer flings used to be a rite of passage—think Grease , Dirty Dancing , or every teen movie ever made. You met someone on vacation, at a concert, maybe even on the beach, and sparks flew. It was understood: this was fun, fleeting, and passionate. You weren’t planning a future—you were enjoying a moment. Fast Forward to Now Today’s dating culture is more complicated. People are more emotionally cautious, communication is often digital-first, and “what are we?” conversations can feel like negotiating a contract. Add in the burnout from swiping and small talk, and suddenly, the casual charm of a summer fling feels... a bit out of reach. But here’s the twist: they’re not gone—they’ve just evolved . The Modern Summer Fling A summer fling doesn’t have to be a whirlwind romance on a beach (though that sounds lovely). It can be someone you connect with for a season, a chapter, a few weeks of fun, freedom, and chemistry, without expectations of forever. It’s about shared experiences: outdoor concerts, lazy pool days, late-night talks, and maybe a few sparks under the stars. And maybe, if you're lucky (or unlucky, depending on your perspective), the fling might even surprise you and stick around past Labor Day. Why We Still Crave It Summer flings still serve a purpose. They remind us to live in the moment. To take a risk. To rediscover spontaneity. In a world full of planning and pressure, there’s a sweet freedom in knowing something doesn’t have to last forever to be meaningful. So… Are They Still a Thing? Yes—just with a modern twist. They’re more intentional, more emotionally aware, and often come with boundaries and communication that our younger selves might not have had. But the magic? It’s still there. And maybe that’s what keeps us chasing a little romance when the sun sets late and the air smells like sunscreen and possibility. Whether it’s a long weekend crush or a full-on seasonal spark, a summer fling might be just what your heart (or your curiosity) ordered.

To our Divorcee Dish community— We’ve loved sharing honest stories, laughter, and the real ups and downs of post-divorce life with you. Your support has meant the world. To keep the content flowing—raw, real, and relevant—we’re shifting to a membership-based model  (or accepting brand sponsorships ) to sustain the work it takes behind the scenes. If Divorcee Dish has made you feel seen, helped you laugh through the hard stuff, or reminded you that you’re not alone, we hope you’ll consider becoming a member or sponsor. Let’s keep growing together. Stay tuned for details coming soon. With love, The Divorcee Dish Team

How to Love the Body You Have, Not the One They Tell You to Want By reaching 50, your body has lived a full, complex life. It has carried you through relationships, children, careers, illness, reinvention, joy, grief, and maybe even divorce. It has stood by you — even when you didn’t stand by it. And yet, the world still wants you to believe that your value comes from how close you can get to looking 30 again. Let’s be clear: that is a lie . And at Divorcee Dish, we are done with that lie as of this moment. We’re done with hiding, apologizing, and contorting ourselves into outdated ideals. We are writing a new story — one rooted in respect, power, and yes, love  for the skin we’re in. Here’s how to start: 1. Unlearn the Lies For decades, we’ve been told that our worth is tied to thinness, youth, and perfection. We should cover up, slim down, and fade out. But your value never lives in your reflection—it lives in your resilience, wisdom, and presence. 2. Reclaim the Mirror So many of us have learned to avoid mirrors. We focus on our flaws, zoom in on every new line or curve. But what if you shifted that lens? Look at yourself with appreciation, like you’d look at a friend who’s survived what you’ve survived. Start with gratitude. Start with grace. 3. Move for Joy, Not Punishment Movement should never feel like penance. It should feel like liberation. Walk to clear your head, stretch to breathe deeper, and dance because music makes you feel alive. Forget what burns calories. Ask yourself what brings pleasure, and do more of that. 4. Eat Like You Matter Ditch the crash diets and food guilt. Feed your body with intention — not restriction. Choose nourishment over numbers. Eat because you’re alive, not because you’re trying to disappear. Cook meals you love. Please share them with people who make you laugh. Nourishment is more than just food. 5. Dress for You Wear what makes you feel powerful, not what others say is “age-appropriate.” Wear the colors you love, the cuts that make you feel confident, the shoes that help you stand tall. Fashion is not a permission slip — it’s an expression of identity. And your identity is bold, layered, and still evolving. 6. Talk to Yourself With Respect Every single day, your self-talk matters. Ditch the shame language. Stop saying, “I hate my arms” or “I look awful today.” Replace it with truth: “I am strong.” “I’m learning to love myself.” “I’m still here, and I’m still becoming.” 7. Let Go of Comparison Social media is a highlight reel, not reality. Other people’s bodies, relationships, and routines don’t measure your worth. Comparison steals joy. Reclaim it. Be where you  are. Grow from there . 8. Surround Yourself with People Who Reflect Your Worth Spend time with those who lift you, not break you down. Friends who cheer for your growth, not your shrinking. Partners who see your soul, not just your silhouette. Build a circle where aging is celebrated, not criticized. 9. Love the Body That’s Loved You It may be softer, rounder, scarred, or slower — but this body has been your home. It’s walked you through pain, carried your children, and rebuilt after heartbreak. It deserves rest. It deserves care. It deserves to be loved — not someday, but now. Loving your body after 50 isn’t a destination. It’s a decision you make daily. It’s a process of unlearning shame and choosing softness. Of letting go of perfection and choosing presence. Of remembering that your body isn’t holding you back — it’s holding you up. At Divorcee Dish, we’re not shrinking. We’re expanding. We’re claiming space. We’re aging boldly, beautifully, and unapologetically. And we’re doing it in the bodies that got us this far — and will carry us into whatever comes next. You are you, and you need to embrace you! xoxo Erin