So I walk into the grocery store the other day, and this is what I see:
And I was like, “Whoa!!” I start laughing and whip out my camera. And people start staring. What’s so funny? they look at me.
What’s so funny? Can’t you see??!!
I spoke last year of my distaste for Valentine’s Day. “Roses are red, violets are blue. Sugar is sweet, and so are you . . . There. Are you happy now?” is what I said. I was single at the time, and some mistook this as a lament. “There, there,” they said. “Someday your prince will come!” But what they didn’t understand (what I didn’t make clear) is that I dislike Valentine’s Day PERIOD. Whether I’m single or in a relationship has nothing to do with it. Why?
Here are five reasons Valentine’s Day sucks: Continue reading
Mirror, mirror on the wall,
couldn’t you just make me tall?
Thinner, too, yes, that’d be great,
with abs of steel to compensate . . .
For all I lack (it is a lot),
maybe then I would be “hot,”
worthy of the magazines,
so full of pretty, lovely things.
Or what if you just made me blind—
could we then be of one mind?
For no matter how I try,
what I see just makes me cry.
After all, you know it’s true,
looks are the important view.
It matters not what lies inside:
Beauty isn’t one to hide.
She took the room by surprise. Or maybe it was just me. I noticed her as soon as I walked in.
She had on hot pink shorts two sizes too small, and a bikini top over breasts two sizes too big. Across her back and on her arms and legs were tattoos; her ample girth jiggled as she walked. Even more interesting was her hair. Pixie length and bleach-blonde, her “locks” were pulled into pigtails that looked like sprouts coming out of the sides of her head. Earrings glistened from her ears.
Most noticeable, though, were her eyes. They were dark and masked by makeup and . . . bruises?
She was toting a three-year-old. Continue reading