My journey with breasts started long before I knew what a breast was.
I’m still an anxious person. I will always speculate, catastrophize, or dread.
You wanted a new pair of pants. You wanted to be free.
I don’t even like nacho cheese Doritos but with hummus? It was magic.
It’s okay. I know you just dropped your phone but I promise it will be alright.
Step 4: Take ingredients out on the last feasible day of respectable use. Question your value as a human being.
Give me a noodle any day.
It seems so harmless, so innocent, doesn’t it? It’s grocery shopping, a chore, a suburban drudgery. But for me it’s become both a source of too much joy and the bane of my existence. Alcoholics can swear off alcohol. They can stop going to places that serve it. But how can I stop grocery shopping?
It seems unjust that people should think I’m a bitch based on something completely out of my control. Actions speak louder than words and they should speak louder than faces, too.
I was still all, “Personal challenge. Must not shower. Build character. BUILD CHARACTER!” even as I watched everyone else traipse gleefully off to their steamy water hugs.