We Jewish girls are so lucky, aren’t we? I remember going to a friend’s birthday party at YMCA when I was about eight years old. We were changing out of our swimsuits, and I looked around at the undeveloped, blonde stick figures in the room and concluded that I was a chubby Jewish girl. Yup, you read correctly. The truth was that my stomach muscles hadn’t quite developed, and like a little pygmy child, I too, had a belly.

If you’ve been following along, (see Walking to save “The Girls,” Part I and Part II), you know that the four of us, Team Motorboat, have been “training” for the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer and last weekend, all our hard work paid off when we crossed the finish line after walking nearly 40 miles for boobies! Since you couldn’t all walk along with us (you lazy bums, you!) enjoy some of our favorite highlights from the weekend…

The dreaded moment that every girl fears came to me about a week ago.  I was standing in my room, looking for a pair of jeans, and suddenly it hit me that I only had one clean pair—the “skinny” jeans—and that’s not referring to the cut.  Like most girls, I have a section in my closet dedicated to days I feel skinny and a section dedicated to PMS and brownies.  (Let’s face it, we Jews like to eat.)  So, I grabbed them off the hanger and wiped off the dust.  I put one leg in, then the other.  I pulled them up, sucked in hard, shut my eyes, and low and behold…they fit!  All hail the Bar Method!  And just in time for summer!

There comes a time in every relationship when it’s time to make the grand gesture.  He’s nervous, you’re nervous, and no one is really sure what the outcome will be.  What should I say?  What will he say?  Nope, I’m not talking about a proposal—please, we’ve only been dating six months!  I’m referring to something much scarier: introducing your boyfriend to your parents…

Tradition.  It’s an integral part of the Jewish religion.  Every Friday night Jews around the world sit down for Shabbos dinner.  Every December we spin the dreidel.  And every fall we sit in services for an ungodly amount of time in order to welcome in the New Year, a tradition dear old Hashem did not count on becoming the social event of the season.

Hello, my name is Jacey Bader and I have an unhealthy obsession with pink, hearts, frills and football.  Yup, you read that correctly.  I am more girly than Barbie herself, and I’m willing to bet that my bedroom has more pink than her entire dreamhouse.  I can also tell you the difference between off sides and a false start, why an onside kick could be beneficial, and I can define words such as “horse collar”, “safety” and “hang time.”