There are stories we tell and stories we don't tell. Here are some of those.
I hate getting older. I hate everything about it. The slow metabolism, the wrinkles, the added cellulite, the loss of hopes and dreams. But what’s the alternative? Death? Um…no thanks. I’ll take failure with a side of bingo arms.
Read MoreI’ve been wanting to cut my hair short now for years. However, I feared I wasn’t able to make such a drastic change due to my mediocre acting career. Sure, famous people dye and cut their hair all the time, but could I? What will my agents think? Do I need to ask them for permission? I don’t want to confuse the casting directors. They get flustered so easily. Actors are a dime a dozen. Don’t make it difficult. Also, I didn’t feel skinny enough, pretty enough or young enough to pull it off. Even a couple of days before my hair appointment, a male acquaintance said, “No, don’t! Women aren’t attractive with short hair.” Thanks for your unrequested input, asshole. I did it, anyway.
Read MoreI can’t remember a time when I liked my body. Even when I was a kid, way before puberty, we would visit my dad’s father who lived in the California mountains every summer. Grandpa would stick an empty water jug between my legs because I was knock-kneed. He thought that would straighten them out. Well, it didn’t. It just made me more self-conscious of my knees. Every time I saw a doctor, my dad would ask if I was overweight. The doctor would always shake his head no. Then puberty hit, and my body didn’t grow like how it was suppose to. I didn’t have cleavage like the girls on 90210 or the same size thighs as I saw on Dawson’s Creek. My stomach was round and Buffy’s was flat. No one looked like me.
Why do I feel like I'm plus size when I'm only a size 4, sometimes 6? Why do I clock a chubby woman when I see my reflection? How come my self-esteem just plummeted down into a dark hole of compare and despair? Why do I feel like I just got dumped when I wasn’t even in a relationship?
I want to have a regular life. I want to have regular parents. A regular job. A regular body. But I’ll keep my ass, thank you.
Read MoreHeart is beating. Blood is flowing. Bowel movements on check. No UTI. No yeast infection. No ingrown pubes. No lumps. No weird moles. A belly that jiggles, but whatever.
Read MoreDear 5th grade assholes,
There are a few of you, so I’m not sure who to address this to and I’m not even sure that you remember me or even think of me at all. I struggle with that, knowing that I don’t even matter to you while your behavior mattered so much to me.
Read More6th grade was awful. I’d rather have a never-ending yeast infection, than relive the emotional intensity of early junior high. But to be fair, it wasn’t all bad because the year ended with my first boyfriend.
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