But I'd rather not go into it all right at this moment on a Tuesday night when I really should be in bed. And I've had a port or two.
But we'll talk, we will. And the first order of business will be that I can not find a photo of myself taken in the last 2 years that I am willing to post (which is sad in all the feminist, I-love-myself, sort of ways). In fact, I can't think of a way in which it is happy.
And that's what prompted me to write after ALL this time: sucky body image, or perhaps, just sucky body. Jury is still out. But the truth is, I got fat. And I hate it. And I am in an awful pendulum swing between "I-love-myself-the-way-I-am" and "I-am-fat-and-I-hate-it-no-matter-what-the-lesbians-say."
But tell me, when was the last time you looked in the mirror and thought, "Awesome." Because I'd like to know your trick. Unless, of course, your trick is being naturally skinny. In which case, let's just talk about something else--like maybe how much we hate Rand Paul--because weight is not going to be our common ground. Which is ok. I still like you.
And I leave you with this, in case you think I am just belly-aching.