...so I’ve just decided to embrace my new role as the human version of a grape soda can in a world of fine wines, you know? Like, I'm dazzling and bubbly, but only if you shake me up first, and then—POOF—I explode into awkwardness when I finally pop open. And honestly? That’s so much easier than trying to explain why I still sleep with a stuffed elephant named Mr. Floppy. It's really not that deep...
literally just got asked by my mom when i'm having kids again, and i had to remember i don’t even have a partner, let alone a uterus that can be relied upon for baby-making. like, am i supposed to just show up to a grocery store with a random sperm donor and start picking out cribs?
I have been training for a marathon. Not because I love running, but because I figured if I just run fast enough, someone would have to come save me from this mid-life crisis. Turns out, nobody is showing up. I just get a nice medal and more questions about why I’m wearing sweatpants to brunch... which, by the way, are super comfortable for crying in public.