As Far As The Men Who Are

If Pregnancy Were A Book, They Would Cut The Last Two Chapters. The Beginning Is Glorious, Especially If You're Lucky Enough Not To Have Morning Sickness And If, Like Me, You've Had Small Breasts All Your Life. Suddenly They Begin To Grow, And You've Got Them, You've Really Got Them, Breasts, Darling Breasts, And When You Walk Down The Street They Bounce, Truly They Do, They Bounce Bounce Bounce.

The One Thing I Would Like To Get Across About My Whole Feeling Regarding High School Is How I Was When I Was Fifteen. Gawky. Always A Hem Hanging Down, Or Strap Loose, Or A Pimple On My Chin. I Never Knew What To Do With My Hair. I Was A Mess. And I Still Carry That Fifteen-year-old Girl Around Now. A Piece Of Me Still Believes I'm The Girl Nobody Dances With.

Suddenly, One Day, There Was This Thing Called Parenting. Parenting Was Serious. Parenting Was Fierce. Parenting Was Solemn. Parenting Was A Participle, Like Going And Doing And Crusading And Worrying.

In My Sex Fantasy, Nobody Ever Loves Me For My Mind.

The Hardest Thing About Writing Is Writing.