. . . my life is ripe and full and luscious . . . Like aging, this opportunity to mature and learn is a gift . . .
It's time for women to call out the shitty back-stabbing behavior of their fellow women, the behind-the-hand whispers, the opaque negotiations that exile the less powerful and truly stand with and for each other.
A slender segment of the skinny population expends effort toward stopping fat people--from going to concerts and parties to buying clothes to trying to work out for whatever reason moves them. These hateful skinnies can't stand it, and they can't shut up about it.
Growing up in suburban Chicago, I didn't listen to country music. It was either my father's symphonic music on WFMT, or my mother's bobby-soxer/50s crooners, or local pop radio on the radio in my room. Occasionally, we'd click past HeeHaw on TV, but we never stayed to watch. I learned early that that wasn't *our*... Continue Reading →
Preparing to go out is a practice of expecting judgement--explicit or implicit--about my person. Once past the initial introduction, I am powerfully charming, capably playful, and intellectually stimulating. But the judgement phase comes first, and withstanding that onslaught while maintaining my natural effervescence is emotionally draining.