I remember the days of the Miss, Mrs., Ms. fight. I checked the Ms. box because I wanted the right to define myself.
I have the insane thought, How did he do that? How does a dog move his water bowl without spilling it?
Now I don’t mind being an XLG per se. Who cares, right? But I’m 5’2″, menopause weight 140, and if I’m an XLG, what is everybody else?
It was just one errant grey wire poking through the brown, looking out of place — just one hair. But I was horrified.
Amoebas in sexy grass skirts will soon be doing the hula on TV commercials, calmly wagging their hips to quell our fear of microbes and hypnotize us into buying new and improved products squirming with life.
It doesn’t seem fair that the only fat that disappears with age is the fat no one could see in the first place.
There was no dress rehearsal for being single. Suddenly my co-pilot was gone and I was flying solo.