I don’t want cooking to become mere habit again. I will need to admit that my meticulous menu planning and habitual cooking was partially practical but also a means to mask my anxiety and control food another way in my life.
Most of the women I saw in church wore lipstick. Especially funny as I recall a religion lesson once espousing the that it was women of ill repute who donned lipstick. I never made the connection...
I clicked on the link for the Nars “Orgasm Collection” lip color… note: orgasms are never peachy pink—though they most definitely can, and should, have a shimmer finish.
The truth about anxiety is that no matter what words I type, I want to hit the delete button. And that truth transcends into every aspect of my life.
Wonder Woman didn’t have heroes—she was written as one.
The barbell hovered a few inches off the ground. I dropped it and shook my head. That’s ok, take a few seconds and try it again. I step back up to the bar. I’ve never failed a second attempt, I think as it hits the gym floor.
I can’t speak. He waits for me to say something… anything. Tears taste salty and sting the rawness in my throat, but I won’t let them fall. I’ve been a writer on mute most of my life.
I’m halfway through a therapy session when I have a sudden thought. I really want a T-shirt emblazoned with the words “I do what I want.” I want it so badly ... In my head they are code words for “Fuck you...."
During the entirety of my 20s and 30s I was asked when I was going to settle down and get married. I would always respond: When it’s legal for everyone I will consider it. Then marriage equality happened and I had that “oh fuck” moment...