The best thing my parents ever did was kick us out of the house. I get strange looks when I tell people that. I think they picture 5 barefoot innocents roaming and starving. They half-laugh uncomfortably in hopes that I’m kidding. Then that blatant pity stare washes over their faces. They want to pat my back sympathetically like … Continue reading »
I am so good at everything. This is a confidence I developed over years of pristine dance performances, high-flying cheer leading jumps, A+ papers. I knew with no uncertainty that these feet could spin superbly. I had full faith that I could damn near kill a quarterback with my dazzling chants. And always, always, this … Continue reading »
Contrary to the flat, thud design of these caveman feet, I was a dancer once. What began as an opportunity for my mother to get an hour-a-week break from my spazzing self transitioned into an hour-a-week chance for my spazzing self to put a rhythm and heartbeat behind my moves, to believe just for a … Continue reading »
Along the way I stumbled upon an enticing promise of a flat belly, drank cabbage soup for three days, watched my pooch deflate, and then gained three pounds when I sniffed near an Arby’s. Enough is enough, Internets. These fast-fix tales are false. You whispered sweet nothings in my lazy ear for far too long. I threw down a plastic tarp, strapped on my rubber gloves, and set out to do the dirtywork. I mean bathroom business.
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When people learn that my son was over 10 pounds at birth, they usually get this horrified and empathetic face about them. They speak consolatory words while inadvertently staring at my crotch. I never understood this because a push is a push. A hole is a hole, and a head is a head. But … Continue reading »
