It's A Big Deal When You Finally

We Didn't Talk About Our Scars, The Ones You Could See And The Ones You Couldn't.

In Anger Management,' He Said,'we Had To Do All This Role-playing Stuff. You Know, To Get Used To Handling Things In A Less Volatile Way.' 'you Role-played,' I Said, Trying To Picture This. 'i Had To. It Was Court-ordered.

Now, Now," My Father Said. "let's Just Get The Bags." This Was Typical. My Father, The Lone Male In Our Estrogen-heavy Household, Had Always Dealt With Any Kind Of Emotional Situation Or Conflict By Doing Something Concrete And Specific. Discussion Of Cramps And Heavy Flow At The Breakfast Table? He Was Up And Out The Door To Change Oil On One Of Our Cars. Coming Home In Tears For Reasons You Just Didn't Want To Discuss? He'd Go Make You A Grilled Cheese, Which He'd Probably End Up Eating. Family Crisis Brewing In A Public Place? Bags. Get The Bags.

Talk Was Cheap And Useless. Action Was What Mattered. And Me, I Was Moving. Now, Again, Always.

I Don't Know. Just Because Someone's Pretty Doesn't Mean She's Decent. Or Vice Versa. I'm Not Into Appearances. I Like Flaws, I Think They Make Things Interesting.