When I was a kid, my mom used to joke about her boobs. "They're tube socks!" she'd hoot. "I have to roll them up to get them in my bra."
I would cringe and recoil....
The world, sometimes, is an ugly place. A spectacularly ugly place. A place that is made all the uglier for the fact that its ugliness creeps in at the edges, smothering the beauty in...
"Hello, sweet girl," she said, swooping Emilia into her arms. "I've waited a very long time to meet you.""To meet me?""Yes, you. I've known you your whole life, and now I finally get to...
Yesterday was my birthday. I have very little reflective to say about that because, apoplectic you know, pharmacy anything that I might say would probably have something to with growing old (I...
I've written about abortion and depression and my relationship with my psychiatrist. I've written about perineal tears and my boobs and nursing another woman's child. I've written about pretty much every uncomfortable thing that...
All that worrying about guns, and I somehow forgot that I grew up in Western Canada in the seventies. With parents who collected antique rifles. You know: old guns. Which, apparently, they used as...
So, the other day, when I was worrying about the potentially deleterious effects on my daughter of too much exposure to princess culture? I think that I have bigger issues to worry about:So here's...
It's a photo of me on my wedding day: just me, alone, posed at an angle, looking slightly over my shoulder. I'm not quite smiling, but not quite not smiling, either. It's one of...
