For your reading pleasure, Natalie Merchant’s song, “My Skin” (Click Above)
Today I was introduced to a woman with whom I work. A woman whom until today, I had never met.
Several hours later, she approached my desk with a sample of a skin care product attached to her business card. Unsolicited, she acted like she knew I needed it. She could see that I have acne. She told me this product helped all these women she knew, and that it came with a 60 day money back guarantee, and that she would like to hear if I’ve tried out the sample by next Monday.
There’s something about heels that make me feel like a woman.
I have a pair of 4-5″ black suedes with a tiny strap around the ankle which do the job quite nicely.
Now that I’ve succumbed to a life of flats– by my own choosing, due to the nature of unbalance and back and knee problems which result in daily wear of crazy sexy heels– I sometimes forget what a shoe will do for my sense of self.
Of course, if you don’t wear them regularly, they are a little… wobbly to walk in. Yet I have the uncanny ability to fake it. Until you add a little alcohol. No one warned us that Landon’s holiday party would be aloft three flights’ worth of stairs. Steep stairs.
“I’m proud of you because ______.”
“You are such a good kid.”
“Thank you for putting forth so much positive effort to get _______ done.”
“Thank you for doing such a good job learning how to ___________.”
“You can choose how you’re going to look at this __________ situation.”
“You are SO smart!”
“You are such a good-hearted kid.”
“I love you more than (peanut butter) loves (jelly).”
