I was talking with my daughter the other day about boobs.
If you’ve ever met or seen either one of us it wouldn’t take you long to figure out the “why” of that riddle.
We had just come from a very successful bra shopping sidewalk sale experience at SOL in Denver. Which on the surface wouldn’t seem that strange. But if you have large breasts or know someone that has large breasts (bigger than a DD) then you know how hard it is to find a bra that fits, feels comfortable, looks good and offers more than one option in your size. Continue reading “Big Boobs and Feminism: What Does a Feminist Look like?”
How do you know when you’re on the right path?
If I feel like a salmon swimming upstream then that’s a pretty good indication I’m not going in the right direction. But how do you know when your effort is simply you working hard versus you working hard on a trajectory that isn’t going anywhere? This is my story about how I found my path, or more accurately how two strangers pointed me in the right direction. Continue reading “Finding The Path You’re On”
Parenting is hard.
It’s hard when the two parents actively love each other and it gets even harder when they don’t. You can end up doing it all on your own or even worse, working against the parenting style of your ex. Parenting as a single parent can be exhausting on the best of days, a blood bath on the tough days and a sucker punch to the face on the really bad days. Continue reading “Adventures in Parenting”
My mom got her first and only tattoo at the age of 9 in 1951.
No, she didn’t run a loan shark business, her grandmother did that. Or disappear cars for the Chicago mob, her father did that. Or mastermind a gang of hoodlums, actually that one is true… she was definitely the ringleader.
The truth is a story you’ve never heard. And that story is pretty bizarre. Continue reading “Blood Type Tattoos”
“Sometimes the briefest moments capture us, force us to take them in, and demand that we live the rest of our lives in reference to them.” – Lucy Grealy, Author “Autobiography of a Face”
I was 11 years old when my best friend told me, “You’d be pretty if it weren’t for your face.” How was I supposed to respond to that? “uh, thanks?” In reality, I didn’t know what to say because I thought I was already pretty.
That tiny moment ultimately helped define the person that I am today. Continue reading “You’d Be Pretty If It Weren’t For Your Face”