How bad could that be?
How fun is that?
How’s that for easy?
How good does that look?
How good does this look?
Who could turn that down?
Isn’t that great?
Who wouldn’t want that for their birthday?
Who wouldn’t want that for his birthday?
We need a nice cocktail for breakfast, don’t we?
Who wouldn’t like that for breakfast?
My post pregnancy body is something to behold. Stretch marks, loose skin, flesh flesh flesh, pale and abundant. I went on vacation with Ben’s family this week, to a house on the Chesapeake Bay that also included a saltwater pool. I wanted to swim in that pool, bad. Wanted to wear my anthropologie retro style blue gingham one piece and float for hours. But I didn’t want my body to be the way it is. I didn’t want Ben’s family, or even Ben, to glimpse my body, my fat body, having the gall to enjoy the sun upon its flesh. These are the thoughts I had. Because I am not comfortable in my body, my body does not deserve pleasure. Then I had a thought: I am already 34. Life is a tenuous, heart-achingly quick thing. And I wanted to be in that pool. So I got in. At dusk, I hugged a pool noodle and drifted. Gossiped with Ben’s younger sister. Parker wanted me to hold him at one point—so I brought him in with me. Stripped him naked and held him to me. Watched him discover the joy of a pool on a summer evening. Marveled at the beauty of his naked body. I will think of that evening for the rest of my life. My body holds me in these moments, and I am forever grateful.
i can be just as cynical as anyone. ‘everyone is fake.’ ‘there are no sincere moments anymore.’ ‘life is humiliating.’ blah blah blah but every once in a while something reminds me of this video and i sit and watch it and you can believe in things like ‘beauty’ and ‘honesty’ and ‘connectedness’ again. for five minutes. or whatever. stevie nicks is a witch or an angel or someone whose feet you want to lie down beside. saying everyone/everything is fake is about as fake as you can get, jack. writing a novel is fake. not committing suicide is fake. it’s all fucking fake so how bout having a real fucking moment in which yr vulnerable to the ppl around you and open yrself up to the possibility that it - life - is not all fake or it’s as fake as you yourself are. i just really like this video.
ee was the first person to show this to me and I have never been the same.
I’ve been thinking about the little things, and how much they matter. We’ve taken Parker to Urgent Care twice, the ER once, and to the doctor five times since Christmas. Our experiences with the nurses and doctors at each place are so different each time. At one Urgent Care, the physician’s assistant barked at me to “keep him still,” my feverish, hive-ridden baby who was squirming a bit at the approach of a strange woman with a black prod she wanted to stick in his ear. At another Urgent Care, the nurse said, “You guys are doing a great job,” over and over, looking us in the eyes so we were sure to hear him, and was so gentle with Parker that I almost cried.
Who will save your soul when it comes to the flower?
Who will save your soul after all the lies that you told, boy?
Who will save your soul if you won’t save your own?
We try to hustle them, try to bustle them, try to cuss them
The cops want someone to bust down on Orleans Avenue