All posts tagged: Margit

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Ovarian Rhapsody: Choosing Your Cancer Hero

“This chair pattern is driving me nuts,” says my husband. We are sitting in NYU’s waiting room, about to meet the first oncologist on my list. “And isn’t it funny how they have to put those dots across the glass so people don’t run into the pane?” My husband, the architect, is always analyzing how a room could be better or why certain design choices are made. I’m looking around too, making different kinds of notes. A hushed room, friendly staff Bundled up cancer patients — some with caps, some with wigs — reading “courtesy of NYU” People magazine A bit depressing, but of course it is Red couches accented by intertwining geometric shapes made to look cheery but not too fun You never know, some of this random detail might help me select my doctor and my choice of cancer care. No, really. After scores of friend-of-a-friend suggestions, scouring RateMds ratings, New York magazine best doctor lists and insurance coverage checks, I narrowed my list of possible oncologists down to two: one at NYU Langone …

Ann’s Note: Honor Your Inner 25-Year-Old

Once a month for the last year, I’ve hosted a series of dinners at my place with young women in their 20s. Dinner is overselling it; it’s fancy frozen pizza and many bottles of rosé. We talk about the itchy emotions you feel around being young, hungry and ambitious — it’s a continuation of the conversation I had with young women for more than a decade as editor-in-chief of Seventeen and, before that, as one of the founding editors of CosmoGIRL. The young women are from different parts of the country and work in different industries (but they all have the most amazing hair I’ve ever seen — truth!). Some are paying the bills with crappy by-the-hour jobs, hoping that their side-hustle start-ups will pay off. Some are forging new territory in digital jobs that didn’t exist five years ago. Some have finally found the gig that allows them to marry their passion with getting paid, and now they want to know when the relationship part of their lives will get sorted. The details of …

Sounds Like Target

(Photos from left to right: Margit Brandt, Fashion Designer. Photo courtesy Ilovebeauty.dk; Margit Pearson Gray, Margit’s Grandmother. Photo courtesy Margit Detweiler; Saint Margit of Hungary. Photo courtesy Wikipedia.com; Margit Detweiler. Photo courtesy Margit Detweiler/TueNight.com; Margit Mutso, Architect. Photo courtesy Wikipedia.com) “It’s Margit. M-A-R-G-I-T,” I say. As I always do, I emphasized the “I.” The barista doesn’t look at me, but I watch him scrawl out “M-A-R-G…” on the familiar white cup. He pauses for a moment. He continues with his Sharpie, “A-R-E-T.” It happens almost every single day, but for some reason, today, this misspelling seems hilarious. A little blip in his brain told him, “No, what you’ve heard her actually say is wrong, go with what you know.” Hi, I’m Margit. It sounds just like Target. In fact, that’s the only word that rhymes. Or I might say, “It’s Margit, like Supermarket, but with a g instead of a k.” I actually love my name. It’s weird. It’s funky. It makes people stop and scrunch up their nose. It’s a cross I have to …