When I had three kids under five, I got so sucked into the cult of SoulCycle that I named my account Spinagogue. When the cute laugh lines of my 30s morphed into Freddy Krueger–clawed gashes in my 40s, I embraced any radio frequency, muscle electrocution, peel, or pore shrinker my dermis and wallet could withstand. And in the throes of global political chaos, climate meltdowns, and walls closing in on women’s rights, I am that bitch who sometimes lights a pricey candle to have what The Daily Show calls my Moment of Zen.
Amy Larocca’s new book, How to Be Well: Navigating Our Self-Care Epidemic, One Dubious Cure at a Time, is like a fun-house mirror held up to my Gen X soul, the booming wellness industry, and the countless cogs in the $5.6 trillion holistic machine.
