Elis Bradshaw last wrote for The Toast about accidentally taking boudoir photos with her mom.
Some lucky women are born athletes. I have a friend who runs like a gazelle and transforms into a porpoise when she goes swimming. I am not one of those women, not by a long shot.
I spent the first twenty years of my life with my nose planted in a book and my body
Since that time was the Victorian era, and ladies were tight-lacing themselves right into punctured lungs, this provided an excuse for upper- and middle-class ladies to celebrate recreational and sartorial mobility, a dovetail of causes for the rational dress movement, and a perfect storm of social reform fought in the public opinion. It was a defining moment in late 19th-century aesthetics, and became…
Jen See's previous (sportif) work for The Toast can be found here.
July means long days at the beach and ice cream in the shade. It also means bike racing. For three weeks each July, the Tour de France hurtles through the countryside in a blur of kaleidoscopic color. There are sunflowers and rainstorms and massive mountain passes. The riders’ deeply etched muscles shift and twist under leathered skin. Their legs tell
This piece brought to you by friends of Katie, known cyclist and queer lady, in honor of her birthday. You never thought this would happen to you, did you? I mean, it's not like you have anything against it, you just never though you'd be the kind of person who rolls that way. But lately, it seems like the harder you look away, the more you see them everywhere – hanging around on your way…
I’m working in my kit again. I thought I could escape, but then my phone started nagging. So I sat down to answer it and to reply to that other thing, and to edit that one thing and to make that other thing. Sitting still is hard. I just want to go ride. The internet is such a dick sometimes. So here I sit, my padded shorts feeling like diapers in my cushioned office chair.
