ELIZABETH HAYT
I’M NO SAINT
SELECTED ARTICLES
MEDIA HIGHLIGHTS
A STREAM of girls in green T-shirts bustled into the gym at Seton High School in Cincinnati last May, scrambled into folding chairs and bowed their heads. As more than 400 spectators counted down, volunteers pulled the girls’ locks taut into ponytails and, on cue, sheared off eight inches, creating blond, brunette and raven pompoms that many girls shook and twirled.
Posted on Sep.13.2007 » 
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AFTER 14 years of relentless highlighting, bleaching and chemical straightening, Deborah Epstein, 32, a law student from Forest Hills, Queens, had ruined her unruly brown curls. Dull, brittle and difficult to style, her hair was so fragile a ponytail holder could snap it off.
Posted on Jul.19.2007 » Link » No Comments »
ON a sparkling Monday in June, the first session of the Flying Point Summer School surf camp was about to begin, and the beachfront parking lot was filled with cars: scrappy vans and pickup trucks belonging to the camp’s instructors, side by side with luxury sedans and a Maserati left by the mothers and nannies dropping the campers off.
Posted on Jul.09.2007 » Link » 1 Comment »
Congratulations for highlighting something many of us have now realized for several years. That menopause is not a taboo subject, and women have been expressing openly their thoughts, concerns, fears of certain treatments, and yes, jokes, for quite some time.
Posted on Jun.13.2007 » Link » 1 Comment »
It was 8 a.m. on a Friday and Deb Caruana, 51, a personal trainer in Manhattan, had just finished working out with two of her clients, Jackie Greenberg, an interior designer in her 30s, and her father, Ronald Greenberg, 59, an art dealer.
The three were chatting when Ms. Caruana, who is in menopause, suddenly blurted out, “I’m having a hot flash.”
Posted on Jun.11.2007 » Link » 2 Comments »
Only two months into my career as a sex columnist for the New York Post, I was informed by my editor that I was falling down on the job: It seems I wasn’t on my back enough. My sex life was an unaugmented bust. My weekly first-person account,”Love & Hayt,” dwelled mostly on past triumphs and current failures–especially the failures, since, to me, they were funnier, not to mention truthful.
Posted on Jan.12.2007 » Link » No Comments »
One late summer evening a few months ago, I was about to steep myself in an Aveeno oatmeal bath. Opening the doors to the vanity below my bathroom sink, I reached around a mountain of beauty products for my Lady Gillette. It was a regrettable move. I unleashed The Great Avalanche.
Posted on Jan.02.2007 » Link » No Comments »
Motherhood has always been a stretch for me. I was 27 when my son was born in 1988, and I hoped that having a baby would save my marriage to a workaholic, and give me a sense of purpose.
Posted on » Link » 5 Comments »
ON Oct. 19, the day the obituary appeared, my mother, Maxine, called to tell me in a flat voice that the cancer had finally killed Marcia Tucker, the renegade museum curator, feminist and political activist.
The news prompted a jumble of reactions and memories. This woman had changed my mother’s life and, in so doing, turned our family upside down.
Posted on Nov.19.2006 » Link » 6 Comments »
During my childhood on Long Island’s North Shore, I always wanted the sort of parents who kissed each other when Dad came home from work, spent weekends playing doubles and danced cheek-to-cheek at bar mitzvahs. But mine were not quite that.
Posted on Apr.17.2006 » Link » No Comments »
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