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L.A. Affairs: I chose my comedy career over motherhood. I wonder if I got it wrong

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L.A. Affairs: I chose my comedy career over motherhood. I wonder if I got it wrong

I’ve never been good at giving news. I wanted to be a journalist in college, but I kept crying when I listened to NPR, so I chose comedy instead.

With that in mind, it was a Saturday night, and I had just picked my then-boyfriend Gabe up for our hot date: feeding spaghetti to the unhoused. He gave me the classic awkward car hug and kissed me. He told me his sister just had her first baby. Seeing this as the perfect segue, I told him I, too, was having a baby except I wasn’t keeping mine. He blinked at me.

So I did what any woman of a certain generation might do in this situation. I played him Enya’s greatest hit, “Only Time.”

The lyrics were eerie and ethereal:
“Who can say where the road goes?
Where the day flows? Only time”

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Gabe became sick in the following days and didn’t talk much. Not that he talked much to begin with, but now he was practically nonverbal. He felt personally responsible for the situation, but I couldn’t blame him. I was there too. Did I consider that I come from a long line of fertile women or that this was how babies were made? No, I wasn’t exactly thinking.

Originally from North Carolina, Gabe, who played drums, moved to Los Angeles just a year prior with his two musician brothers. Out of place but finding his groove in long, solitary nights of painting and playing music with his family, he was living an artistic, albeit quiet, life. During the day, he worked as a substitute teacher, and I worked at being a stand-up comedian in L.A., which, if you look closely enough, is not work at all. I was underemployed. A baby wasn’t in our cards. Besides, I had my career to focus on.

I called Kaiser Permanente and asked for an abortion.

“I’ll take one abortion, please.” I asked like I was ordering a pizza.

“You’d like to terminate a pregnancy?” the person on the other end of the line confirmed.

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“Yes, an abortion,” I repeated.

“When would you like your termination?”

Kaiser directed me to Planned Parenthood. The closest clinic I could find that could do the abortion the soonest (two weeks from then) was in Lawndale. That was two hours away from where I was living at my childhood home.

I had my brother drive me with my sister in the backseat. I went to the appointment and waited three hours to be seen. I waited so long that they played the first two “Twilight” movies on the small overhead TV. Women of all ages sat in the waiting room, darting their eyes, looking for connection and distraction. The only thing I could bring myself to do was put on red lipstick and take selfies. They told me the baby was 5 weeks old. The nurse was nice in a customer service way. She told me to expect chunks.

That week, I shot a comedy sketch. Entitled “How To Get Rid of COVID in 5 Easy Steps!,” I acted out five very fake ways to get rid of COVID-19. It got 110,000 views on TikTok.

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A month later, I hosted a comedy variety show at El Cid on Sunset Boulevard. Around that same time, Roe vs. Wade was potentially going to be reversed, and Texas outlawed abortions. So I made some joke about my beat-up car and abortions that went something like this: “I’m really glad I got my abortion in California because if I were in Texas, I couldn’t drive out of state. I have a 1999 Toyota Camry — it just couldn’t handle it.”

That’s how Gabe’s brothers found out. Me talking on a mic to 60 strangers in a Spanish restaurant on a Wednesday. We didn’t discuss it after. I posted the joke online a few weeks later: 2,892 views on TikTok.

Soon after, my sister told me she had seen Gabe on a dating app. We broke up soon after that. I processed it the only way I knew how — once again by telling jokes to strangers. “My ex was really into door hardware. (Beat.) He was on Hinge. My sister told me he was on Hinge. I don’t recommend that. (Beat.) Having a sister.” It ended up with 19,600 views on Instagram.

A few months post-breakup, Gabe came over. After having sex, he was washing up in the bathroom, and I was in the bedroom. I called out to him.

“Do you ever think about the fact that we almost had a kid?”

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His reply was instant. “All the time.”

“All the time” played like a mantra in my head for days. It rang out to me in my sleep, in my waking life. I wanted to replay my 20s, to rewind, to fast-forward, to choose differently. I would try to see myself with a child. They’d be 4 years old now. Gabe would be there. We’d be living together in North Carolina where he’s from. We’d be happy. I’d be writing. He’d be painting. We’d have big windows and a backyard.

Recently, Gabe moved back to North Carolina. I’ve stopped performing. When I think of foregoing a baby for a comedy career, I think: What career? I work as a copywriter. No awards to my name. Nobody recognizes me. I never made it to 100,000 followers. At the time of writing this, I have 3,390 followers on Instagram. Just 96,610 to go.

I think of Gabe and think of him thinking about it. The potential kid, the aborted future. I wonder if he mourns it too. He must. Like a botched cover of Enya’s greatest hit, his voice calls out to me from the wall between us.

All the time. All the time. All the time.

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Emma Estrada is a writer and comedian living in Glassell Park. She co-hosts Confessions, a monthly reading series. Learn more about it on Instagram: @confessions.reading.

L.A. Affairs chronicles the search for romantic love in all its glorious expressions in the L.A. area, and we want to hear your true story. We pay $400 for a published essay. Email LAAffairs@latimes.com. You can find submission guidelines here. You can find past columns here. Editor’s note: Have a dating story to tell about starting fresh? Share it at L.A. Affairs Live, our new competition show featuring real dating stories from people living in the Greater Los Angeles area. Find audition details here.

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Thanks to ‘Mormon Wives,’ Dirty Soda Is a National Obsession

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Thanks to ‘Mormon Wives,’ Dirty Soda Is a National Obsession

The first time Pop’s Social, a catering company in South Orange, N.J., that specializes in dirty soda, served an alcoholic drink at an event, something strange happened.

At the event in December, its nonalcoholic offering, a spiced pear-cider seltzer with vanilla and peach syrups, cream, lemon and cold foam, was a hit. The Prosecco-spiked version? Not so much.

“People were more interested in the mocktail than the cocktail,” Ali Greenberg, an owner of the business, said in an interview.

Dirty soda — a customizable blend of soda, flavored syrup, creamer and sometimes fruit, served over pebble ice — has been crossing into the mainstream for years, especially after the cast of “The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives,” the hit reality show that premiered in 2024, frequented Swig, the Utah chain that started it all.

But its reach has gone far beyond the Mormon corridor, and its rise in popularity has dovetailed with an overall decline in U.S. alcohol consumption. “There’s not a lot of Mormon people in our neighborhood,” said Greenberg. “But there are a lot of people who are sober-curious or not drinking.”

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The reality show, which follows a group of Mormon influencers in Utah, helped popularize dirty soda beyond the Mountain States and inspired a wave of TikTok videos on the subject. Swig rapidly expanded — growing from 33 locations in Utah and Arizona in 2021 to now more than 150 locations in 16 states — along with other Utah chains, and spawned copycats nationwide.

Dirty soda has joined other Mormon cultural exports, like tradwife influencers, a “Real Housewives” franchise in Salt Lake City and Taylor Frankie Paul, the Bachelorette who wasn’t, that have captivated America.

With the recent rollouts of dirty soda at McDonald’s, Chick-fil-A and Dunkin’ — behold the Dunkin’ Dirty Soda: Pepsi, coffee milk and cold foam — and the appearance on grocery shelves of Dirty Mountain Dew and a coconut-lime Coffee Mate creamer for homemade dirty sodas, we may have reached peak dirty.

The idea for dirty soda came out of a desire for members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, which has millions of followers in Utah and surrounding states, to have more options for social drinking, as the church prohibits the consumption of alcohol, hot coffee and hot caffeinated tea.

When Swig introduced dirty soda in 2010, it filled a need, providing a pick-me-up for car-pooling moms and an after-school treat for their kids. It was quickly adopted by many in the community.

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“In other cultures, parents go, they pick up their coffee in the morning, and for me and for a lot of my other friends’ parents, it was, ‘Let’s go pick up our dirty soda,’” Whitney Leavitt, a breakout star of “Mormon Wives,” said in an interview.

Leavitt was surprised when her dirty soda order became a recurring question from reporters in recent years. “They were so excited to hear all of the different syrups and creamers that we add to our drinks to make whatever your go-to dirty soda is,” Leavitt said. (Hers is sparkling water with sugar-free pineapple, sugar-free peach and sugar-free vanilla syrups, raspberry purée, a squeeze of lime, and fresh mint if she’s “feeling really fancy.”)

In April, Leavitt became the chief creative and brand officer at Cool Sips, a beverage chain based in New York that sells dirty sodas.

“Mormon Wives” inspired Kaitlyn Sturm, a 26-year-old mother of three from Jackson, Miss., to post recipes for dirty sodas on her TikTok. The one she makes the most contains Coke or Dr Pepper, homemade cherry syrup, a glug of coconut creamer and a packet of True Lime crystallized lime powder, which she combines in a pasta-sauce jar filled with pebble ice. “It kind of has become like a ritual, where I make one for my husband as well, and we have it most evenings,” Sturm said in an interview.

The trend has also hit fast-food menus. The new “crafted soda” menu at McDonald’s is riddled with dirty soda DNA. The Dirty Dr Pepper, with vanilla flavoring and a cold-foam topper, is the chain’s version of what has shaped up to be the universal dirty soda flavor. Since 2024, Sonic, beloved for its porous, soda-absorbing pebble ice, has offered “dirty” drinks — your choice of soda plus coconut syrup, sweet cream and lime.

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These drinks might feel new, but there are antecedents in the Italian sodas of the ’90s (fizzy water and a pump of Torani syrup); the Shirley Temple (ginger ale or lemon-lime soda with grenadine and maraschino cherries); and the egg cream, a tonic of seltzer, chocolate syrup and milk. And what is a dirty Dr Pepper with cold foam if not a descendant of the root beer float? “It’s just a soda fountain from 125 years ago,” Kara Nielsen, a food and beverage trend forecaster, said in an interview.

Though Leavitt moved to New York City with her family in December, her dirty soda ritual has remained consistent, with one key difference. “In Utah, we don’t get to walk to dirty soda shops,” Leavitt said. “We have to drive there.”

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Chaos Gardening: A Laid-Back Way to Garden

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Chaos Gardening: A Laid-Back Way to Garden

Annuals include flowers like marigolds and nasturtiums. They grow fast but won’t come back the next spring (though they will drop seeds and possibly propagate). Perennials like lavender and sage will return year after year, but they may take longer to grow. Wildflower and pollinator packets often contain both annual and perennial seeds but are frowned upon by some serious gardeners, because the selection can be haphazard and ill-suited to the area.

It’s a good idea to exercise a little situational awareness. How much rain can you expect? How much sunlight? Dig the earth and feel it between your fingers — is it sandy? Loamy? These are things to keep in mind as you prepare for your journey into horticultural chaos.

“You want to prepare your soil, your site, at least a little bit,” said Deryn Davidson, a sustainable landscape expert at Colorado State University Extension in Longmont, Colo. “Try to get rid of weeds. Make sure the soil is ready to receive seeds.”

Davidson, who has written about chaos gardening, strongly advised covering the seeds with a layer of soil, lest they become bird food. As for watering, that depends on where you live, she added. On the whole, though, the formula is straightforward: “Soil, sun and water is what these seeds need,” Davidson said.

Not everyone is a fan of the trend, or at least the way it has been portrayed on social media. “Nature is not chaos — nature is pattern,” said Robin Wall Kimmerer, a botanist and the author of “Braiding Sweetgrass,” which recommends imbuing modern life with Indigenous wisdom.

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“It seems unrealistic,” Kimmerer said of the chaos gardening videos she has watched. The feeling of effortlessness they convey — a common social media effect, almost always the result of deft editing — seems to elide the work that goes into a garden, whether chaotic or not, she suggested.

“I want my garden to be natural and biodiverse,” she said. “That’s a good impulse. I don’t think this technique is going to get you there, but that’s an important impulse.”

Boitnott, the maker of the viral video, offered a simple reason for why chaos gardening has become popular: “It just makes you happy.”

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What is an eye massage? We tried it at this under-the-radar L.A. spot

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What is an eye massage? We tried it at this under-the-radar L.A. spot

Admission: I suffer from eyestrain. Even right this very second. As a reporter working on a computer more than eight hours most days, my eyes often feel fatigued and itchy by evening.

I’m not alone: More than half of the U.S. population lives with computer vision syndrome, also known as digital eyestrain, and nearly 16.4 million Americans suffer from dry eye syndrome. So I was especially excited to stumble on New Vogue Spa, in the City of Industry, which offers a relaxing, if intriguing, treatment called “Eyeball Care” — something I’d never heard of before at a day spa.

New Vogue Spa is an Asian-style spa with Korean and Chinese influences. The spa’s offerings include massages and body scrubs — I was curious about the “Red Wine Body Scrub” — but I couldn’t help exploring eyeball care, which was much needed after my 50-minute drive from Silver Lake. (The City of Industry is about 30 minutes from downtown L.A. without heavy traffic.)

So it came to be that I found myself lying on a massage table, wearing what looked like protruding diving goggles, with clouds of cool, aromatic steam oozing from both sides of it and engulfing my face. A spindly plastic tube extended from my forehead to the “Eye Spa” machine. Serene spa music, a blend of classical piano and loudly chirping birds, trilled in the background as the machine sloshed and gurgled. It felt like lying, creekside, in a spa robe wrapped in a blanket of chamomile and rosemary-scented fog.

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As my esthetician, Jenny Chen, adjusted the eye mask and added essential oils to the mist, New Vogue manager Lesley Xie explained that the 60-minute, $125 Eyeball Care treatment aims to hydrate and stimulate blood circulation in the eye area, decrease puffiness and dark circles and aid eye fatigue and dry eye syndrome.

“It’s really helpful for overall eye health for people who are on computers for a long time or sleep really late or who are reading a lot,” she said.

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The Eyeball Care treatment included a mask filled with cool, aromatic steam to help relieve fatigued eyes.

2 Slippers in the Himalayan Salt Room.

1. The Eyeball Care treatment included a mask filled with cool, aromatic steam to help relieve fatigued eyes. 2. Slippers in the Himalayan Salt Room.

Xie said that eyeball care treatments are common in China. When she was growing up in Guangdong in Southern China, elementary school students were given a break every afternoon to perform “eye exercises,” which involved gently massaging pressure points around their eye areas, for 5-10 minutes.

“It released eye stress because we studied from eight o’clock in the morning until almost noon time,” she said. “It was a break for our eyes to prevent nearsightedness and tired eyes.”

New Vogue Spa’s treatment was supremely relaxing from the onset — part Head Spa, part facial, part eye care. Chen began by massaging my scalp for about 10 minutes, as I tried not to fall asleep.

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Next she cleaned my face, applied massage cream and gently massaged my face and eye area, manipulating the outer corners of my eye sockets as well as under my brow bones and on my temples. She was precise and firm but careful — as she pressed on the outside corner of my eye, I felt tension draining down the side of my cheek and neck.

Esthetician Jenny Chen conducts “Golden Eye therapy” on reporter Deborah Vankin.

Esthetician Jenny Chen conducts “Golden Eye therapy” on reporter Deborah Vankin.

Xie said the massage is based on traditional Chinese medicine, focusing on stimulating acupressure points around the eyes.

“Gentle massage of these areas is believed to help promote blood circulation, relax the muscles responsible for focusing and relieve visual fatigue,” she said. “While it’s not a medical treatment for vision conditions, it’s widely used as a preventative and restorative method.”

The massage was followed by “Golden Eye therapy,” during which Chen used an electronic device on my face with a metal roller ball on it. It uses “ultrasonic vibration technology,” Xie said, to help the skin absorb the applied moisturizing cream and combat eye puffiness.

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The main event was the “cooling steam therapy,” which Xie said was meant to be calming and refreshing and help relieve tired eyes. Chen fitted me with what looked like an enormous diving mask that quickly filled with cool, hydrating mist — I felt droplets of water dripping from my eyes and down my cheeks. The Eye Spa machine uses a “cold mist atomization process,” Xie said, “that disperses micro-particles of moisture combined with soothing essential oils.”

At the end of my treatment, Chen gave me under-eye gel pad masks, for added hydration, while conducting one last head massage. She applied moisturizing eye cream, face cream and sunscreen before sending me off.

Dr. Kristina Voss, an ophthalmologist with Keck Medicine of USC, was enthusiastic about the Eyeball Care treatment.

“It sounds wonderful. Anything that makes you feel good, I generally support,” she said. “It sounds safe because they’re not putting pressure on the eye. Direct pressure on the eyeball [is dangerous]. And I’d be nervous if they were putting something in the eye, but they’re not. Steam, or even cool condensation from a humidifier, is effective for dry eye. Massaging pressure points probably doesn’t treat dry eye, but could potentially treat eyestrain or tension headaches that can be interpreted as eyestrain.”

Los Angeles Times features writer Deborah Vankin inspects her eyeballs after her treatment.

Los Angeles Times features writer Deborah Vankin inspects her eyeballs after her treatment.

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Temporary relief aside, however, Voss warned that the treatment is not a replacement for seeing a doctor if a condition is ongoing.

“It’s relaxing and complementary to a doctor’s dry eye treatments — like medicated drops or in-office treatments — but it’s not a simple fix or cure all,” she said. “Ongoing doctor’s care would be important.”

After my treatment, I was invited to linger in the co-ed Himalayan Salt Room and Red Clay Room or woman-only spa area, complete with a warm soaking tub, lounge area and treatment rooms for body scrubs. (I skipped the adjacent New Vogue MedSpa, where you can get botox, dermal filler or microneedling treatments.)

Guests are also treated to a cup of homemade snow fungus tea (made from tremella mushrooms) with a single jujube, or red, date, floating inside. New Vogue makes a fresh batch every morning for guests, simmering the collagen-rich drink so long it becomes somewhat gelatinous.

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The Himalayan Salt Room.

2 The co-ed lounge area.

3 The Red Clay Room.

1. The Himalayan Salt Room. 2. The co-ed lounge area. 3. The Red Clay Room.

“Snow fungus focuses on deep hydration and skin plumping, while red dates support circulation and a healthy glow,” Xie said, calling the concoction “a warm bowl of snow fungus and red date soup.”

I can’t speak to the medicinal benefits of snow fungus tea. But after a glass of the warm, woody-tasting drink — together with the hour-long tension-taming eye treatment — I saw the world in a whole new way while walking out the door: clearly, from a relaxed perspective and with the bigger picture in focus.

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