Fine. I’m that woman. I am. I’m the one standing in my front yard (which, until a month ago was overgrown and absolutely shimmering with weeds) yelling vulgarity across the neighborhood cuz my damn dog ran off. I’m bra-less and my baggy shirt has smushed baby breakfast bar on it. Not today’s breakfast bar. Not yesterday’s, actually. I’m wearing pajama…
This is not a cute kid story or a fashion post. It is BOTH. Which puts it into a totally unique category that you would be sorely remiss not to read. These babies. I got new chubbtastic tights from We Love Color . I haven’t worn tights since I was 11. Or pantyhose since I was 19. And…
I am a twisted peg, and I owe so much happiness to that. So this is my analogy. Love is a pegboard, stretching Alice-in-Wonderland style to near infinity. You are a peg, individually carved. Your shape is determined by who you are, your entirety. The sexual attractiveness of your body, your rage, your humor, your ambition, your selfishness, your wit, your…
I get a little excited when I see evidence of why thin people stay that way. It’s like seeing the secret metal mechanisms that run the Presidents at that exhibit in Disneyland. I sat next to my friend Kerin in a movie theater and watched her arrange her diet coke and “light, light on the…
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