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Three’s Not A Crowd, After All.


Now that we’re 34 and 32 respectively, I suppose Justin and I are officially “in our thirties,” which is weird because nothing has really changed since our twenties except that our hair is falling out (yes, mine too — if you know how to make this stop, please fill me in) and now we have a roommate. Read the rest of this gem…

This Is A Post About Breasts.

I looked at myself in the mirror and assessed. As we do.

Not terrible, I thought, which is much kinder than I usually am to myself. My 32-year-old body has never borne the burden of birth and so, for the most part, while things might not looks as fresh as they did when I was 22 and I’m certainly not as thin, most pieces are still in their proper places. Mostly. Read the rest of this gem…

A Public Apology to E.L. James.

I’ll admit it.

I’ve given E.L. James a very hard time.

Not personally, mind you, because if I knew her personally I’d probably be too busy asking her about her favorite brand of lubricant and just how far she actually took her research Read the rest of this gem…

I’m Bringin’ Casual Khaki Pants Back.

“No one likes you, and you’re going to die here.”

The whisper came at my back, hard and fast, while I was sifting through assorted boxes of chips in the closet-sized storeroom. I whirled around to see Lloyd,* resident oddball and prep room aficionado, silhouetted in the doorway. Read the rest of this gem…