Wads of precious misery

Hey! I just realized I’ve achieved my dream life! (The realistic dream, the one without the live in pastry chef). Ask me if I’m happy and content! Go on, ask! I’M NOT! HA! I’m  one  episode of Jake and the Neverland Pirates away from punching windows, not just for the satisfaction of destruction, but in…

The Heartbreak of 19th Century Masturbation

I spent three hours early this morning researching 19th century masturbation for my next article, until I was just so goddamn sad that I had to stop. I have been doing a series for The Week where I look at the outrageous hygiene and social advice given to people 100 years ago. It’s fun, funny.…

Clinging to a Styrofoam cooler

Yesterday, as I hid in flannel sheets to find a nap I didn’t really need, I realized why I think of myself as such a mediocre mom. It’s because I thought there would be a lake. All I’ve ever had is a river. My life has been a river. No, let’s have the proper visual.…

Woman! presses out the wrinkles.

I have a friend who is hobbled by her well-meaning mother. Her mother, we’ll call her Maude, is a woman used to being listened to and respected. She raised her children impoverished and single-handedly, and they become doctors and professors. I once complimented her ex-husband on how much I liked his daughter and he told…

Too Polite to Ask

  They took a family photo yesterday, the first with all of us. The grandparents, and their three children with their families. I feel bad about the photo. My husband’s people are a good bunch. All of them, save Gus and I, live together in a serene little desert compound. Their three comfortable, sprawling California…

What a Lady Knows

A kid’s birthday party today, one where I didn’t really know anyone. So I took extra pains, as I have learned is necessary if I don’t want to lay the groundwork as a total outcast and then have to dig myself out. An outfit both slimming, feminine and casual. (I think. I don’t know. It…

Ghosts of the Fourth Floor

I put my son into one of those hospital cribs that have always made me shutter, a metal cage; the perfect place to suffer in. But I didn’t shutter. I laid him next to a horrendous giggling bear-robot of some sort, without the least hint of melancholy. I laid down in the pull out chair next…

Wizard With A Toolbelt

“I swear lesbians give the best advice ever,” I said, absently, possibly offensively, to my lesbian therapist. Her office is warm and smells very strongly of lavender. The combination sometimes makes me dopey. “Seriously, I never leave a conversation with one of you guys that I don’t feel I’ve come away with something valuable.” That’s not…

Back into the butthole

  My therapist has a great butthole analogy. (Ha! Anal-ogy…just noticed that. Ah…butts are fun). She uses it to help clients understand why they cling on to the bad habits in their lives. Why they stay doughy and sick, why they don’t try for a better job, why they hang around people they don’t like.…

put down the fork

  I had forgotten there are still people who hate me because I’m fat. I knew it for a fact most of life. From about 8 to 21, when I met Gus. I knew I was fat and that any time anyone wasn’t mean to me, especially boys, I should be grateful. Fat matters less when you’re…