Boston, MA

Is there really such a thing as

Published

2 years ago

September 18, 2024

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Research finds changes do happen to women’s brains during pregnancy

01:12

BOSTON – There’s more scientific proof that there is such a thing as “pregnancy brain.”

Every year, millions of pregnant women experience profound physical and hormonal changes, but what specifically happens to their brains? A team at University of California Santa Barbara performed 26 MRI scans on the brain of one neuroscientist before she got pregnant until two years after delivery. They found a significant reduction in gray matter volume, largely responsible for thinking, memory, and emotion.

That may sound bad, but experts say think of it more like pruning or prepping and fine-tuning the brain for more specialized tasks, which happens to children during puberty as well. Larger studies will look at the brains of hundreds of women pre- and post-pregnancy which may provide answers as to why some women develop pregnancy-related conditions like postpartum depression.

Mallika Marshall, MD

Mallika Marshall, MD is an Emmy-award-winning journalist and physician who has served as the HealthWatch Reporter for CBS Boston/WBZ-TV for over 20 years. A practicing physician Board Certified in both Internal Medicine and Pediatrics, Dr. Marshall serves on staff at Harvard Medical School and practices at Massachusetts General Hospital at the MGH Chelsea Urgent Care and the MGH Revere Health Center, where she is currently working on the frontlines caring for patients with COVID-19. She is also a host and contributing editor for Harvard Health Publications (HHP), the publishing division of Harvard Medical School.

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Boston, MA

Protesters in Boston call for end to war in Iran

Published

5 hours ago

April 9, 2026

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Protesters in Boston call for end to war in Iran

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Boston, MA

Wellness Hangouts Are the New Happy Hours

Published

17 hours ago

April 8, 2026

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Wellness Hangouts Are the New Happy Hours

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So long, cocktails; hello, electrolyte drinks. Are group health events becoming the city’s preferred way to gather after dark?

Illustration by Jeannie Phan

For years, wellness was a solitary pursuit—early-morning workouts, solo spa appointments, quiet meditation apps. Now, a more collective approach is taking hold, reframing self-care as something to be shared. From candlelit sound baths to evening spa takeovers to communal ice baths, group wellness experiences are emerging as a new way to socialize—one rooted in restoration rather than reservations.

At the forefront locally is Spa After Dark, a new monthly series at the Spa at Mandarin Oriental, Boston. Held on the third Wednesday of each month, the hotel opens the spa after hours for a guided contrast-therapy experience designed to be both social and deeply restorative. Guests rotate between the sauna, vitality pool, and cold-water immersion under the direction of a trained professional, who enhances the sauna ritual with essential oils poured over hot stones, creating waves of aromatic heat.

Spa director Heather Hannig says the concept grew from her own love of thermaculture—the ancient practice of alternating heat and cold for physical renewal. When she started working at the property last year, she realized that the spa’s private suite, sauna, and soaking pools made it possible to translate that ritual into a shared, guided activity. The goal was to create something experiential rather than transactional: guests in swimsuits moving through multiple rounds of heat and cold, then lingering in lounge spaces to rehydrate and connect.

The shift to a more social experience—complete with nonalcoholic beverages, electrolyte-rich drinks, and food designed to support the body—was intentional. “As opposed to a dinner out or a bar experience, we were seeing that there’s an appetite for more group experiences that are wellness-focused, where people can socialize in this setting,” says Danielle McNally, director of marketing and communications for Mandarin Oriental, Boston.

A man and a woman sit inside a wooden sauna. The man, wearing black shorts, is seated on the left side with his hands clasped and looking toward the woman. The woman, wearing a black bikini, is seated on the right side with one knee bent and her arms wrapped around it, looking toward the man. The sauna has wooden slatted walls and bench seating.

Courtesy Remedy Place Boston

This desire for collective wellness extends beyond hotel spas. At Remedy Place Boston, guests gather for communal ice baths, sauna sessions, and breathwork in a sleek, club-like environment that prioritizes recovery and connection. Release Well-Being Center in Westborough similarly taps into the power of group energy through workshops featuring sound baths, singing bowls, and guided practices aimed at nervous-system regulation. After all, these days, social currency isn’t about cocktails—it’s about how good you feel the next morning.

This article was first published in the print edition of the March 2026 issue with the headline: “The New Happy Hour.”

Is Wellness Culture Ruining Social Fun?

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Boston, MA

How RFK Jr. changed my mind about Dunkin’ – The Boston Globe

Published

1 day ago

April 8, 2026

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How RFK Jr. changed my mind about Dunkin’ – The Boston Globe

For 30 years I have lived in Boston, and for 30 years I have remained baffled by one thing.

Not the rotaries (those make sense). Not the lack of happy hour. Not the unwritten rules of snowstorm space-saving.

The coffee.

Specifically: Dunkin’.

Why does Boston run on coffee that doesn’t taste like coffee? Dunkin’s tastes like burned sweet potatoes. And yet the franchise is so much a part of our local fabric that when Cardi B played TD Garden last week, she addressed the crowd: “Boston! You Dunkin’ Donuts eating [word that definitely can’t be used here], how we doing toniiiiight?” I’m sure Ben Affleck was dancing somewhere in the crowd, wearing a Red Sox jersey.

I grew up in New York, believing that if the Yankees suck, it is only in occasional relation to the Mets, and totally unaware of Dunkin’s regional chokehold just a few hours north. Dunkin’ has a strong presence in my home state, but in Massachusetts it has main character energy. When I moved here, I discovered that this chain appeared to be a religion. A cult? Would that be overstating things? All around me people were chugging iced coffee in the dead of winter (often while wearing shorts), and “regular” coffee came with cream and sugar by default. I had chosen a new home where light and sweet were the palate’s preference, and I had to put my dark and caustic expectations on a shelf.

There is no Seattle version of this for Starbucks.

I understand Dunkin’ was founded here, in Quincy in 1950. That’s history and local pride. But Starbucks got its start in Seattle in 1971. You don’t see Bill Gates appearing in its ads. The general populace doesn’t call it “Starbs.” Last year, in fact, The Seattle Times ran a story with the headline “Starbucks’ popularity has waned the most in hometown Seattle.”

After I had lived in Boston for about a decade, I had a eureka moment: Bostonians don’t like coffee. Bostonians like caffeine, a bargain, and a beverage that tastes like dessert.

With this thought came acceptance, and after that I mostly ignored Dunkin’ discourse — until last month. Then Health Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. called out Dunkin’ for being unhealthy. “We’re going to ask Dunkin’ Donuts and Starbucks, ‘Show us the safety data that show that it’s OK for a teenage girl to drink an iced coffee with 115 grams of sugar in it,’” he said. “I don’t think they’re gonna be able to do it.”

A Caramel Craze Latte, probably not RFK Jr.-approved at 39-75 grams of sugar depending on size and type of milk — but far from Dunkin's sugariest offering. — A Caramel Craze Latte, probably not RFK Jr.-approved at 39-75 grams of sugar depending on size and type of milk — but far from Dunkin’s sugariest offering.Lane Turner/Globe Staff

Never mind that the average consumer of such a beverage in Boston is a burly middle-age construction worker. Never mind that I’ve yet to see compelling safety data showing it’s OK for a teenage girl to contract measles after forgoing vaccination. There are only a few drinks on Dunkin’s lengthy menu with at least 115 grams of sugar, according to its easily accessed Nutrition Guide — mostly large frozen coffees that max out at 172 grams, a gobsmacking amount of sugar that would turn me into a gerbil on a wheel if I consumed it one sitting, though I’d probably pass out from brain freeze first.

Each time RFK Jr. brings up the unhealthiness of the American diet, a “see, you can’t dismiss the guy, he’s right about some things!” think piece gets its wings. And each time I read one of these, I lose my schnitzel (fried in tallow, of course). We already know nutrition policy needs reform, and I can’t think of another figure who has gotten so many plaudits for stating the obvious about public health, while taking so many measures that could endanger it.

So I felt a bit salty about this attack on sugar. And Boston felt very salty about this attack on Dunkin’. When Bostonians act extra Boston-y, I often admire the spirit without fully sharing the viewpoint. Not this time. This time I was in perfect agreement.

And then I saw it: On Instagram, Massachusetts Governor Maura Healey had posted an image inspired by a flag from the early days of the Texas Revolution. In place of a cannon, Healey’s post featured a Dunkin’ cup, but the words remained the same: “Come and take it.”

No confiscation without representation. You can pry our iced coffee out of our cold dead hands. I felt a surge of pride. Boston pride. I want to live in a city and state where politicians stand up for what is ours — be it a drink so sugary no mere mortal can withstand it, or legal rights that pertain regardless of immigration status, or trans kids’ ability to determine who they are and live accordingly.

And I felt the perverse urge to transgress.

I walked to the closest Dunkin’, all of three minutes away. I needed all the steps I could get if I was going to drink a vanilla bean Coolata, the sugariest drink on the roster that I could contemplate actually consuming. A large clocks in at 167 grams of total sugar, 150 of them added, which in a more rational moment I believe is an anti-consumer hate crime. That suddenly seemed beside the point.

I placed my order. The Coolata was just the start. I also experienced, for the first time, the thrill of ordering an iced coffee “extra extra.” (For a small, this turns out to include four sugars and four creams.) And, in a nod to moderation, I added a small regular.

I took a sip of the Coolata, a slush as white as the driven snow. (I had ignorantly assumed there would be coffee in there somewhere, but no.) I took another sip, and another. An icy dagger pierced my head. My heart rate skyrocketed. But worst of all, I had to taste the stuff. Nothing should ever, ever be this sweet.

The iced coffee, by comparison, was drinkable. Until my straw touched down in the drift of crunchy sugar strewn over the cup floor. Extra extra is too extra for me.

Then I sipped my small regular. It was still way too sweet. It was also way too creamy. And it still tasted like burned sweet potatoes. It was perfect. I loved it. It tasted like home.

Devra First can be reached at devra.first@globe.com. Follow her on Instagram @devrafirst.

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