Skintight – a Column by Dinah Chong Watkins

If I were a vegetable, I’d belong in a 5-pound sack of couch potatoes. When I began my career in China in the 1980s, there were no movies, magazines, TV, or shopping. Working out was the only form of entertainment. I once went to the gym and met my future…

It was one of those “oops!” moments — the express elevator down to your gut when you realize you hit “Reply All” by mistake. My inbox dinged — a lame substitute for the “You Got Mail” jingle — and I read the message in which the sender referred to me…

Along the street lined with neatly planned townhouses, an effervescent spirit zigzagged through the households at midday. Every person under the age of 8, including me, felt hackles rise up on the backs of our necks. A tinkling of chimes, a muffled cry. My eyes widened. “Ice Cream Boy!” I…

(Sung to “Defying Gravity,” with apologies to Stephen Schwartz.) Something has changed within me Some parts are getting tight I’m through with tiny buttons Give me sweatpants day or night. Too late for second-guessing Too late to go back to sleep It’s time…