Podcasts about america's girls

Sarah Hepola is the author of the 2015 bestselling memoir, Blackout: Remembering the Things I Drank to Forget. She's the host and creator of "America's Girls," a podcast about the history of the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders, and the co-conspirator of Smoke 'Em If You Got 'Em, a weekly podcast about what's burning through the culture right now. She's a writer-at-large for Texas Monthly, and she lives in Dallas.sarahhepola.comBlackout: Remembering the Things I Drank to Forget, by Sarah HepolaWhy I'm Doing a Podcast on the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders, by Sarah HepolaCheerleaders, Cheerleaders Everywhere, by Sarah HepolaSmoke 'Em If You Got "Em PodcastLush for Life, by Sarah Hepola - Salon23: Children Need Freedom to Grow Independent, with Lenore Skenazy - Where We Go Next"Twitter: where personality disorders become careers." - Meghan DaumCommon Cognitive Distortions - WikipediaThose College Students Might Surprise You: Sarah Hepola's Report From the Classroom - The Unspeakable PodcastHow to watch TÁR - JustWatchI Could Get Married Here (But Didn't), by Sarah Hepola - The New York TimesMy Drinking Years: ‘Everyone Has Blackouts, Don't They?', by Sarah Hepola - The GuardianSarah's Twitter: @sarahhepolaSarah's Instagram: @thesarahhepolaexperience----------Are you a fan of Where We Go Next? Listen to the very end of this episode for details.Email: wherewegopod@gmail.comInstagram: @wwgnpodcast

Sarah SHARES her sober story as we learn about her life as a working journalist. She is the author of the best selling book called BLACKOUT as well as the host of a podcast about the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders called AMERICA'S GIRLS. Sarah is working on a new book that will talk about dating and sex in sobriety and the lessons she has learned along the way. Please visit her website www.SarahHepola.com to learn more about her impressive and entertaining collection of professional work. Click this link to Donate to Sober Shares with your debit or credit card: https://www.paypal.com/donate/?hosted_button_id=MD6DFY5RUYT5A Website: www.SoberShares.com Email: mike@SoberShares.com --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/michael-quigley4/message

Nancy is reporting from San Francisco, because your roving journos go where the story leads, whether that's a discount motel room in Fairfax, Virginia, or a 30-room mansion with a view of the Painted Ladies. First order of business is not The Verdict, but Teal Swan and recent episodes of Hulu series The Deep End, whose jaw-dropping scenes of alternate therapy have pushed Sarah from her neutrality. Embedding trauma in your lost followers is dangerous stuff. By the way, Sarah and Nancy agree you can use your sex appeal for the greater good, but that ain't what Teal Swan is doing.Now for That Verdict. How does a trial change when it has a jury? How could Heard's statement that she was “a public figure representing domestic abuse” be defamatory? Is this verdict “chilling,” as legacy media claims, or a “major victory” as Depp supporters believe? What if it's neither? Discussed: blackout drinking, revelations of the Depp-Heard therapy sessions, and why the ACLU is not covering itself in glory.Various and sundry: Sarah can't ID one Gary Cooper movie; Nancy doesn't grock what Sarah means when she asks about Maverick. Sarah finds social psychologist Jonathan Haidt's voice “fundamentally soothing”; teenage Nancy runs into Paul Newman. Sarah waxes poetic about crow's feet; Nancy explains why you should always keep tweezers in your car.Sarah goes for brooding pretty boys; Nancy likes he-men. Or something like that.Smoke 'Em If You Got 'Em only gets better when you become a free or paid subscriber.Episode notes:The Deep End, documentary series about Teal Swan Sarah compares a Teal Swan group meeting to those held at Esalen (which has a pretty swank location tbh)Teal Swan addresses episode two of The Deep End:Satanic ritual abuse + hot thigh action is a thing“The Actual Malice of the Johnny Depp Trial,” by A.O. Scott (NYT)“‘Men Always Win': Survivors ‘Sickened' by the Amber Heard Verdict,” by EJ Dickson (Rolling Stone)“Jessica Winter: The Johnny Depp–Amber Heard Verdict Is Chilling” (New Yorker)Texts from Depp's assistant Stephen Deuters, ruled out of US trial as hearsay (reddit)Depp-Heard Marital Therapist Dr. Laurel Anderson testimony“The Depp-Heard Trial and the Demise of the ACLU,” by Jonathan TurleyMeanwhile, over in East Germany…“The Case Against the Trauma Plot,” by Parul Sehgal (New Yorker)Blackout: Remembering the Things I Drank to Forget, by Sarah Hepola“The ACLU Has Lost Its Way,” by Lara Bazelon (Atlantic)Mighty Ira official trailerThe Fountainhead (1949), official trailer”America's Girls” podcast, with Sarah Hepola (Texas Monthly)“Ex-Washington cheerleaders shaken by lewd videos: ‘I Don't Think They Saw Us As People,'” by Beth Reinhard, Liz Clarke, Alice Crites, and Will Hobson (Washington Post) As I Am, by Patricia Neal (Amazon)“Uniquely Stupid and Incredibly Coddled: Jonathan Haidt On How We Lost Our Collective Minds (And Whether We'll Ever Find Them Again),” The Unspeakable podcast with Meghan DaumWe love the strikingly brilliant journalist Pamela Colloff, and you will tooOutro song: “Cruel to Be Kind” by Nick LoweAnd for all those hustlers out there …Run the table by becoming a free or paid subscriberEveryone is welcome at our party, so please share the love that is Smoke 'Em If You Got 'Em This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit smokeempodcast.substack.com/subscribe

by Sarah Hepola It was my third morning at an Austin spa so dedicated to self-care they charged $375 if you lit up a cigarette. The sky was still dark, and I was sitting at a wedding spot tucked off the highway, a mile from where I was staying. I'd stumbled upon this place the first morning of my low-key rebellion, because I needed a quiet spot to smoke, and I'd followed a sign that said “historical landmark.” I expected a bench, a sweeping view of the Hill Country; I discovered a wedding tent with empty tables and chairs, a couple plastic floral arrangements on the floor, like everyone had just been raptured.The wind was picking up, the cords of the tent creaking, and while this woodsy paradise was surely a lovely place to get hitched in daylight, it was downright spooky in the dark. A real Stephen King vibe. I took a seat at a nearby fire pit flanked by five small logs; they weren't comfortable, but a hole in the center of one made a nice nest for a styrofoam cup I was using as an ashtray.I held the flat black rectangle of my iPhone close to my mouth. “OK here I am at my wedding retreat,” I began, in my raspy early-morning voice. “I feel like you and I have used this tent more than any other couple in the Austin area.” The voice memo was for Nancy Rommelmann, my new buddy and co-conspirator in a podcast we had named, in part because of my retro commitment to stogies, Smoke 'Em if You Got 'Em. I'd made her a voice memo on the first morning, as I wandered the surreal matrimonial landscape, and she enjoyed it, so I sent her one the next morning, which she also liked, and now we had a habit. My morning had gone from “Where can I smoke?” to “Where can I record my voice memo for Nancy?”Smoking is a bad habit, but it's mine, and ever since I picked it up again during a rough patch in the pandemic (after more than a decade of abstinence), everyone in my life who cared about these things had made a deal, either silently or quite directly, to keep their opinions to themselves. It seemed to be a phase I needed — and since booze had been a more dangerous phase I'd once needed, and I was determined not to pick that up again after nearly 12 years of sobriety — I was mostly left to smoke in peace. “I hate that you smoke,” more than one person told me. But often they expressed a guilty affection for this once-common habit turned taboo. “I shouldn't say this, but smoking looks cool.” This post is public so feel free to share it.But back to the voice memo. “I was driving over here,” I continued, not sure where I was going with this, “and I'm driving my mom's car, which beeps at you whenever you do anything.” The road was winding and largely unlit, and every time I strayed from the parabolas of the yellow lines, the car beeped at me, even though no other cars were around, and the robotic fusillade made me feel as though I were being pelted with pebbles. “I don't feel comfortable about our automated future,” I said, and proceeded to free-associate through a rambling monologue that somehow covered the disappearance of customer service, the secret lives of trees, a girlhood crush on Johnny Depp, a DoorDash order to the Cheesecake Factory, of all places, and why Nancy (though it was a low bar) was my #1 Nancy.The voice memos were not new, but making them for Nancy was. We'd only met a month ago, though we'd technically never met, having only connected through phone calls and text messages and a podcast app called Zencaster. But I'd been making voice memos for at least six years — waking up early, capturing some fleeting moment in audio form, usually when I was traveling, something I mostly did alone. California, London, a place in Tennessee — I'd find myself with all these thoughts and no place to put them, which is the writing impulse, except I was tired of writing that year, tired of staring at the glaring white screen, so I started the voice memos.“I'm sitting on the lip of the Pacific,” one began. “I'm standing near a swamp. Can you hear the noises?” They were love letters of a sort for a man to whom I'd been profoundly attached, though I didn't send most of them, because he and I were in the slow process of untangling our lives. Also, he shared a bed with someone else, and I was never certain what kind of communication was allowed between us, what would mark him as unfaithful, and what that word even meant.This was 2015, or 2016, and the iPhone with all its fantasy-scapes was swiftly supplanting hand-to-hand contact. IRL was the acronym, in real life, but sometimes it was hard to tell which was RL: the black rectangle where I shared sumptuous conversations, songs and video clips, intimate pictures of my days and my body, or the mundane solitude of me and the cat, me at the laptop, me watching Netflix. That guy didn't live in my neck of the woods. Even during the years we enjoyed a beautiful physical connection, we were largely bound by texts and emails and phone calls that could last for hours, me holding a hot glass brick to my face for such extended periods that I googled “can your phone give you brain cancer” more than once. (Eventually, I got a headset.)My mother tells a story about me as a baby, how we were talking to each other before I could speak, the two of us going back and forth in a nonsense babble that must have been very gratifying to a one-year-old who had no words for what she wanted. Bluh-bloop-bluh-bloop? I'd ask, and my mother would respond, in a tone meant to convey reassurance, Bluh-BLOOP-bluh-bloop. I was learning the rhythm of communication before my tongue could master nouns and verbs, and this deeply mutual exchange delighted my mother so much she nicknamed me Word Bird.My mom went back to school to become a therapist the year I enrolled in kindergarten. Good timing, at least from a distance, but she grew estranged in other ways — camping trips, newfound friends, a life that was not our family — and while this is a story of liberation for her, it was for me (at least briefly) a story of feeling left behind. I searched for her in the top drawer of her walnut dresser: a pink cameo ring, a sprig of lilies-of-the-valley, dried and pressed, a tiny vial of Diorissimo perfume I could dab on my pale inner wrist to summon her smell. I was seven when I got my own bedroom, exiled from the bunkbed I once shared with my swashbuckling 12-year-old brother. It was a converted utility space, cold and creepy with shuffling noises in the dark, and after I went to bed, I had long conversations with myself, and maybe this is storytelling, and maybe this is prayer, and maybe this is just a survival instinct: We make the company we need.Word Bird turned out to be a good nickname for me. I became a writer, an editor, a podcast addict on her way to starting her own podcast. I wrote text messages so long they required scrolling, the opposite of an emoji. By 2017, that guy had disappeared from my life, but a new one appeared the next year, a connection that was profound and complicated in its own way. Fourteen years younger than me; family stuff; a resistance on his part that even he professed not to understand. When we were together, things felt right, but when we were apart, he seemed to find new and creative reasons for the two of us to remain that way. (Long story, read the forthcoming memoir.) But I sent voice memos to him, too.“Your voice,” he responded. Sometimes that's all he said: Your voice.“I'm sitting outside, it's 9 o'clock at night. I like to sit out here and listen to the night sounds,” one voice memo began, though I never sent it, because by then, we were estranged too, and even though he was the one who requested the memo, the recording wasn't good enough, or interesting enough, I was just babbling. But I kept recording memos for him that I never sent: in the desert, at the beach, but mostly on my outdoor smoking couch in Dallas. He was also sharing a bed with someone else by then, but the voice memos gave me a feeling like I was still talking to him; it was strange and wonderful to discover he could comfort me, even when he wasn't there.Was this “real life”? What is real life? Over the years I've had colorful debates about our technological transformation: Does Twitter matter? Is sexting cheating? What about porn? What about long text exchanges with a man who is not your husband, full of secrets you don't tell the others? Infidelity was blurry, but for that matter, so was connection. Can you really be close to someone so far away, or are you merely having a love affair with your own fantasy projection (and doesn't that describe most romance)? Facebook and Instagram were holograms, press releases for the happiness most of us never quite felt (otherwise why were we spending so much time online)?“Instagram is stupid,” an editor declared one morning when we met for coffee, and I asked why, and he launched into a short critique of its performative nature: look at my toes in sand, look at my fancy hotel, look at the book I just read. “But what if that isn't performance so much as an attempt to share some experience?” I asked, because he was married with kids, and I was single without them. I couldn't count the number of vistas I'd looked upon in the last few years, wishing someone were at my side, and they weren't, but I could post a picture on Instagram and, voila, suddenly people were there. The editor didn't buy this, and maybe I didn't either, but I understood loneliness to be a modern affliction, as well as a personal one, and the world had given us so many ways to feel connected, even as we remained alone.The voice memos, though. I began to wonder if the late-night dispatches to absentee partners, squirreled away in the cabinets of my phone like a 21st-century Emily Dickinson, was the best use of my voice. I started working on a podcast for Texas Monthly about the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders, and voice memos were part of my mandate. I'd leave interviews and football games and unload some experience into my phone. “OK, I just left the stadium,” one began. “Well that was wild” began another. We used a few in the podcast, America's Girls, and I liked the intimacy they created, the sound of my mind latching onto an audience, unseen at the time.So I began sending voice memos to Nancy. I never planned what I'd say; I was mostly following an intuition, tugging on a thread, and it was nice to share space with her, even if I had yet to actually share space with her, because she lived in New York City. I'd fallen into friend-love with Nancy, one that was mutual and easy (nice for a change), and even though the memos were getting a bit out-there, wandering down corridors that surprised even me, I didn't feel queasy or embarrassed after I sent them, because the stakes were quite low. What was she gonna do? Stop talking to me because I sent a 17-minute missive on AIs and DoorDash delivery?“Sarah this is amazing,” she wrote back that morning. “This is so Joe Frank it's insane.” I had no idea who Joe Frank was, but she sent me a video that cleared that up. A radio legend who'd worked in New York and Los Angeles, Frank was known for atmospheric audio rambles that seemed to take place on a road to nowhere.The Frank audio reminded me of Tom Waits, the moody spoken word of “9th & Hennepin,” and while audio commentary on Johnny Depp and the Cheesecake Factory doesn't quite match this transcendent arena, I was still proud of the association she'd made, that whatever my mind had cobbled together in the wee hours had some slight adjacency to these masters. Then she told me something I probably already knew: We had to share this on our podcast. I felt embarrassed and triumphant at once; I'd only been talking to #1 Nancy, I hadn't known I was on a stage, but then again, the story wasn't terribly personal, far less personal than other parts of my life I'd exposed in books and essays, and I knew I could keep doing this, easy. Voice memos were my thing. Voice memos for everyone! Every! Body! Gets! A Voice Memo!And thus we arrive at my debut, embedded at the top of this page. I have no clue how many of these I'll do (I have a couple queued up already), but I travel often, and I find myself in the quiet lonely hours quite a bit, and the voice memos need somewhere to go, so why not here? This one is open to the public, but we'll make the following voice memos part of our paid subscriber content, because people who pay real money deserve rewards, and because Nancy bakes cookies and pies and makes delightful videos of herself, but voice memos are what I do.So I submit this first entry in a series, which is a love letter to you, or Nancy, or maybe only to myself. The sound of my voice in the dark, creating the company I need.To receive new posts and support our work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.Voice Memo Notes:“Ultimate Hill Country Tour,” by Joe Nick Patoski (Texas Monthly)“The Rise of Human Agents: AI-Powered Customer Service Automation,” by Brad Birnbaum (Forbes)Sarah Hepola on Twitter: This screenshot prompts a small correction, which is that my DoorDash AI was actually named Caroline, though I stand behind my assertion that Nancy Rommelmann is #1 Nancy. Her, official trailer (YouTube)That Joan Didion line from Blue Nights: “As adults we lose memory of the gravity and terrors of childhood.”“The Social Life of Forests,” by Ferris Jabr (New York Times magazine)The Overstory, a novel by Richard PowersJohnny Depp centerfold in my seventh-grade bedroom This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit smokeempodcast.substack.com/subscribe

I am joined by the talented Sarah Hepola. She is a writer and just finished a podcast series called America's Girls about the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders. We talk about all kinds of other things as well.  https://twitter.com/sarahhepola https://sarahhepola.com/ For more Beyond the Playlist https://twitter.com/JHammondC https://www.facebook.com/groups/Beyondtheplaylist/ Theme music by MFTJ Featuring MIke Keneally and Scott Schorr - to find more of MFTJ go to https://www.lazybones.com/ https://mftj.bandcamp.com/music http://www.keneally.com/ To support the show with patreon go to:  https://www.patreon.com/jhammondc

After a ten-minute chat on why we love boobs (any size), Nancy gives an update on the Vicky White/Casey White jail break, and Sarah brings us up to date on the Johnny Depp-Amber Heard trial, with an eye on Heard's small-town Texas past and her first appearance on the stand. But the story of the day is Roe v. Wade, which Sarah knows particularly well, since the case started in Dallas. Nancy admits to agreeing with the politically unpopular Bill Clinton dictum that abortion should be “safe, legal, and rare.” Sarah tells the story of her own abortion at age 30, how it changed her life in ways that can never be measured, and remembers what Milan Kundera wrote in The Unbearable Lightness of Being: “We can never know what to want, because, living only one life, we can neither compare it with our previous lives nor perfect it in our lives to come.”Episode notes:Debbie Harry white dressCheryl Tiegs (not Christie Brinkley, whoops) in a white mesh swimsuitRunning tab on terms Nancy did not know: Queef, keg stand, motorboatNancy's review of the book Breasts: A Natural and Unnatural HistoryVicky White and Casey White have been on the run 7 days!Amber Heard on the stand, 4/4/22 (video)“America's Girls” podcast, hosted by Sarah HepolaAmber Heard stole my sexual assault story, ex-aide tells libel trial (Guardian, July 2020)“We Do Abortions Here,” Sallie Tisdale (Harpers 1987)“The Dishonesty of the Abortion Debate,” Caitlin Flanagan (Atlantic, 2019)“The Brilliance of ‘Safe, Legal, and Rare,'” Caitlin Flanagan (Atlantic 2019)“Roe v. Wade's Secret Heroine Tells Her Story,” Joshua Prager on Linda Coffee (Vanity Fair, 2017)“Ruth Bader Ginsburg's Warning About Roe v. Wade Came True,” Ewan Palmer (Newsweek, 2022)“Things Fell Apart” podcast, with Jon RonsonDavid Foster Wallace on AbortionThe Unbearable Lightness of Being, by Milan KunderaOutro song: “Here Comes the Sun,” the Beatles This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit smokeempodcast.substack.com/subscribe

Sarah Hepola @sarahheopla is the host of the amazing & fascinating America's Girls podcast, the behind the scene look at the Dallas Cowboy's cheerleaders and so much more.  The Podcast can be found here https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/americas-girls/id1597678826

Nancy Rommelmann and Sarah Hepola hop back into the studio to talk Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders, faking orgasms, crying (women v. men), why young Ben Franklin is hot (electricity!), why Sarah always dated Tom Waits, Nancy's religious experience at a Trail Blazers game, and much more!EPSIODE NOTESFan-cam dancing to "Since You Been Gone" at Spurs game"America's Girls," podcast about the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders that Sarah Hepola co-created and narratesBlackout: Remembering the Things I Drank to Forget, by Sarah HepolaTo the Bridge: A True Story of Motherhood and Murder, by Nancy Rommelmann"I Always Dated Tom Waits," by Sarah Hepola (Salon)"Blackouts and Sexpots" podcast with Nancy Rommelmann and Sarah Hepola This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit smokeempodcast.substack.com/subscribe

Fan-cam dancing to "Since You Been Gone" at Spurs game"America's Girls," podcast about the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders that Sarah Hepola co-created and narratesBlackout: Remembering the Things I Drank to Forget, by Sarah HepolaTo the Bridge: A True Story of Motherhood and Murder, by Nancy Rommelmann"I Always Dated Tom Waits," by Sarah Hepola (Salon)"Blackouts and Sexpots" podcast with Nancy Rommelmann and Sarah Hepola

Sarah Hepola has been publishing personal essays and articles for decades and is the author of the 2015 bestseller Blackout, a memoir about her years of heavy drinking that focusses on the phenomenon of blackout. As Sarah explains it, blackout is a state of impaired memory that is distinct from being passed out and is often overlooked in conversations about intoxication and sexual consent. Meghan invited Sarah onto the podcast initially not to talk about blackouts but about Sarah's recent essay in The Atlantic "The Things I'm Afraid To Write About.”: It's about censorship, specifically the kind we impose on ourselves in a culture where voicing controversial opinions can bring on devastating professional and personal consequences. This topic comes up a lot these days, but Sarah comes to it out of a particular interest: how confusion over the difference between being in a blackout and being unconscious has factored into several high profile sexual assault cases.   One case Sarah has looked into is that of Brock Turner, the Stanford swimmer who was convicted in 2016 of sexual assault after he was discovered outside a fraternity house in an encounter with  woman who appeared to be unconscious. The story continues to elicit strong emotions in the public, but Sarah points out that the media narrative, which includes many vivid and troubling details, diverges significantly from the facts in court documents. Sarah's mention of the Turner case in her Atlantic essay set off a firestorm of anger and invective, thereby illustrating exactly why she'd been so reluctant to speak her mind over the last several years. In this conversation, Sarah talks with Meghan about self-censorship and what's happened in the media landscape to cause it. But they talk just as much about the Brock Turner case and how the media got so much of the story so wrong and never bothered to correct it. This may be the most “unspeakable” Unspeakable to date.   Bio: Sarah Hepola is the author of the bestselling memoir, Blackout: Remembering the Things I Drank to Forget, and the host/creator of America's Girls, a Texas Monthly podcast about the lost history and cultural impact of the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders. She is currently working on a memoir for The Dial Press/Random House about her ambivalent singlehood. She lives in Dallas.

RNZ Afternoons producer, Alix Higby, has been listening to a podcast on the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders called America's Girls.

The Old Grey Wolf is back in the studio! And who better to kick-start this engine than with local reporter Sarah Hepola? Sarah is a reporter, author and host of the Texas Monthly podcast "America's Girls" about the history and impact of the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders.

The Old Grey Wolf is back in the studio! And who better to kick-start this engine than with local reporter Sarah Hepola? Sarah is a reporter, author and host of the Texas Monthly podcast "America's Girls" about the history and impact of the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders.

The Old Grey Wolf is back in the studio! And who better to kick-start this engine than with local reporter Sarah Hepola? Sarah is a reporter, author and host of the Texas Monthly podcast "America's Girls" about the history and impact of the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders.

The Old Grey Wolf is back in the studio! And who better to kick-start this engine than with local reporter Sarah Hepola? Sarah is a reporter, author and host of the Texas Monthly podcast "America's Girls" about the history and impact of the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders.

Welcome to Over The Influence, Series 3! We're Sharon, Freddie and Ben, three normal people who decided to give up alcohol to see how our lives would change. We're not medical experts but we are expert ex-drinkers, and our podcast brings people together who are on their own alcohol-free journeys by celebrating just how wonderful life without booze can be! In this episode we chat to Sarah Hepola, the author of a book that helped all three of us in the early days of our sobriety, Blackout: Remembering The Things I Drank To Forget. Our conversation with Sarah is as honest as her book is - we talk about her experience of blackouts, but also blackouts in general and how society often jokes about them to cover up more painful emotions. Sarah is also incredibly honest about the early days of her alcohol free journey, because in many ways she didn't want to be sober and mourned her drinking days. She started writing Blackout when she was six months sober, as a way of keeping her motivated in her sobriety - but it wasn't long before sobriety itself, rather than the success that came with it, became the thing she cherished the most. To find out more about Sarah, find her on Instagram (@thesarahhepolaexperience) or on Twitter (@sarahhepola) - and don't forget to listen to her fabulous new podcast, America's Girls! We now have a live studio (Zoom) audience watching the podcast as it's being recorded. If you'd like to watch future episodes of the podcast being recorded, you can find out more about this and all of the other benefits of joining our online AF community at overtheinfluence.co.uk Of course, you can always get in touch with us (publicly or privately) on our socials - @alcoholfreepod on Instagram and Twitter, or search for "Over The Influence" on Facebook. We'd love to hear your story - please get in touch with us at otihq@overtheinfluence.co.uk and of course if you'd like to join our fabulous alcohol free community of likeminded people, visit our website to find out about the connection and resources we offer - www.overtheinfluence.co.uk. #alcoholfree #stopdrinking #healthandwellnessjourney #zeroalcohol #idontdrink #sobercurious #healthydrinking #alcoholfreelife #soberaf #alcoholfreeliving --- Over The Influence is produced by Ben Anderson for Sound Rebel. Do you want to present a podcast? Sound Rebel works with businesses, brands, charities & other organisations across the UK. If you own a business, work in a marketing department, or know someone who does - go to soundrebel.co.uk now to find out how podcasts could help you to tell your story.

The Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders are iconic, but who are the women behind the million-dollar smiles? Sarah Hepola joins host Krys Boyd to discuss the organization from the inside out, from the glitz and glamour, to body image, sexualization and how the cheerleaders fit into #metoo today. Hepola hosts the Texas Monthly podcast “America's Girls.”

The BlackBerry officially dies tomorrow. America's Girls. Powerball. Shark attacks and Chicago crime. Local crime. The Oreo is turning 110 this year. Arts Council of Brazos Valley update. RIP Betty White. New Big Foot video. Colorado fires. 5G service. Entertainment news. Things to look forward to in 2022.

It's cold! Keep your resolutions. Where did Dry January come from? Liquor store stories. We need to stop using these phrases. The BlackBerry officially dies tomorrow. America's Girls. Powerball. Shark attacks and Chicago crime. Local crime. The Oreo is turning 110 this year. RIP Betty White. New Big Foot video. Colorado fires. Things to look forward to in 2022.

No appearances near alcohol. No fraternizing with players. Being a Cowboys cheerleader has always meant living by a long list of rules. But do those rules help protect the cheerleaders, or control them? For more on this and every episode of America's Girls, visit texasmonthly.com/americas-girls.

The original Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders squad burst onto the field back in 1972—the same year Title IX passed, the same year Deep Throat came out, and a year before Roe v. Wade. Sarah Hepola digs into the untold stories behind the global pop culture phenomenon, from the stripper who allegedly inspired the squad's creation, to a scandalous Playboy cover shoot that was partly a battle over fair wages, to the ongoing debate about sexuality and women's bodies in a post-#MeToo world. The result is a vibrant mix of history, cultural criticism, and storytelling, featuring interviews with New Yorker writer Jia Tolentino, award-winning novelist Ben Fountain, Oscar-nominated director Dana Adam Shapiro, local television sports legend Dale Hansen, folk-writing hero Joe Nick Patoski, and a whole bunch of cheerleaders whose names you don't know yet—but should.

A group of former Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders pose topless in Playboy, and the Cowboys go to court to protect their brand. For more on this and every episode of America's Girls, visit texasmonthly.com/americas-girls.

The original Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders squad burst onto the field back in 1972—the same year Title IX passed, the same year Deep Throat came out, and a year before Roe v. Wade. Sarah Hepola digs into the untold stories behind the global pop culture phenomenon, from the stripper who allegedly inspired the squad's creation, to a scandalous Playboy cover shoot that was actually a battle over fair wages, to the ongoing debate about sexuality and women's bodies in a post-#MeToo world. The result is a vibrant mix of history, cultural criticism, and storytelling, featuring interviews with New Yorker writer Jia Tolentino, award-winning novelist Ben Fountain, Oscar-nominated director Dana Adam Shapiro, local television sports legend Dale Hansen, folk-writing hero Joe Nick Patoski, and a whole bunch of cheerleaders whose names you don't know yet—but should. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The original Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders squad burst onto the field back in 1972—the same year Title IX passed, the same year Deep Throat came out, and a year before Roe v. Wade. Sarah Hepola digs into the untold stories behind the global pop culture phenomenon, from the stripper who allegedly inspired the squad's creation, to a scandalous Playboy cover shoot that was partly a battle over fair wages, to the ongoing debate about sexuality and women's bodies in a post-#MeToo world. The result is a vibrant mix of history, cultural criticism, and storytelling, featuring interviews with New Yorker writer Jia Tolentino, award-winning novelist Ben Fountain, Oscar-nominated director Dana Adam Shapiro, local television sports legend Dale Hansen, folk-writing hero Joe Nick Patoski, and a whole bunch of cheerleaders whose names you don't know yet—but should.

The original Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders squad burst onto the field back in 1972—the same year Title IX passed, the same year Deep Throat came out, and a year before Roe v. Wade. Sarah Hepola digs into the untold stories behind the global pop culture phenomenon, from the stripper who allegedly inspired the squad's creation, to a scandalous Playboy cover shoot that was partly a battle over fair wages, to the ongoing debate about sexuality and women's bodies in a post-#MeToo world. The result is a vibrant mix of history, cultural criticism, and storytelling, featuring interviews with New Yorker writer Jia Tolentino, award-winning novelist Ben Fountain, Oscar-nominated director Dana Adam Shapiro, local television sports legend Dale Hansen, folk-writing hero Joe Nick Patoski, and a whole bunch of cheerleaders whose names you don't know yet—but should.

The original Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders squad burst onto the field back in 1972—the same year Title IX passed, the same year Deep Throat came out, and a year before Roe v. Wade. Sarah Hepola digs into the untold stories behind the global pop culture phenomenon, from the stripper who allegedly inspired the squad's creation, to a scandalous Playboy cover shoot that was partly a battle over fair wages, to the ongoing debate about sexuality and women's bodies in a post-#MeToo world. The result is a vibrant mix of history, cultural criticism, and storytelling, featuring interviews with New Yorker writer Jia Tolentino, award-winning novelist Ben Fountain, Oscar-nominated director Dana Adam Shapiro, local television sports legend Dale Hansen, folk-writing hero Joe Nick Patoski, and a whole bunch of cheerleaders whose names you don't know yet—but should.

The original Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders squad burst onto the field back in 1972—the same year Title IX passed, the same year Deep Throat came out, and a year before Roe v. Wade. Sarah Hepola digs into the untold stories behind the global pop culture phenomenon, from the stripper who allegedly inspired the squad's creation, to a scandalous Playboy cover shoot that was partly a battle over fair wages, to the ongoing debate about sexuality and women's bodies in a post-#MeToo world. The result is a vibrant mix of history, cultural criticism, and storytelling, featuring interviews with New Yorker writer Jia Tolentino, award-winning novelist Ben Fountain, Oscar-nominated director Dana Adam Shapiro, local television sports legend Dale Hansen, folk-writing hero Joe Nick Patoski, and a whole bunch of cheerleaders whose names you don't know yet—but should.

The original Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders squad burst onto the field back in 1972—the same year Title IX passed, the same year Deep Throat came out, and a year before Roe v. Wade. Sarah Hepola digs into the untold stories behind the global pop culture phenomenon, from the stripper who allegedly inspired the squad's creation, to a scandalous Playboy cover shoot that was partly a battle over fair wages, to the ongoing debate about sexuality and women's bodies in a post-#MeToo world. The result is a vibrant mix of history, cultural criticism, and storytelling, featuring interviews with New Yorker writer Jia Tolentino, award-winning novelist Ben Fountain, Oscar-nominated director Dana Adam Shapiro, local television sports legend Dale Hansen, folk-writing hero Joe Nick Patoski, and a whole bunch of cheerleaders whose names you don't know yet—but should.

Coming December 7th. For 50 years, the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders have been a global phenomenon, endlessly photographed, televised and commercialized. They began as an experiment and became America's sweethearts, a very Texas hybrid of pageant beauty, good-girl etiquette, and come-hither slink. But what's always been missing from their story is the voices of the cheerleaders themselves—until now. Bestselling author Sarah Hepola hosts this journey through the wild and glamorous saga of a sideline spectacle that changed sports, fashion, entertainment, and countless childhoods of boys and girls like her.

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