"He took up a lot of space. Moving around us. Weaving in and out of the aisles. Some ladies were annoyed. An old man behind us snickered and under his breath said, ‘hurry up.’"
“I hadn't seen him in nearly 13 years, he was 4 years old then, but everything seemed to fit… I slowly walked over to him, and his family. I slowly approached him, and when he looked at me... I shattered the ice."
"We all would rather monologue then dialogue and this means we have to be content with our stereotypes about each other. It’s nonsense, and I’m opting out."
"I had spent over thirty years thinking I was the man (or men) who left me. That my identity was somehow built around that. The devil had spent years whispering in my ear that I was the girl who was easy to give up..."
Let me tell you a story: A girl comes home after a long day. She sets her things down, throws her hair up and changes into comfy clothes in record time. Breathing a deep sigh of relief from taking off that chest cage called bra and changing out of those feet shackles called heels, she grabs her laptop and flips it open.
