As I take a little break to recover from my vacation, I thought I’d reshare — as my 76th post — one of my favorites. Now where’s that leftover pizza?
Curling Iron – 1 My Forehead – 0.
I lied; actually my curling iron is undefeated — I simply restart the count after each bout. As I sympathetically apply cocoa butter to the long red caterpillar swelling enthusiastically atop my face, I wondered: why does love – or the pursuit of it – have to be so painful? Specifically, why do women so mercilessly torture, contort and outright abuse themselves to attract men?
Now don’t get me wrong. Although the term has been fired at me on more than one occasion – usually by a fish I’ve chosen to throw back into the pond from which I mistakenly plucked him – I am by no means a ‘man hater.’ In fact, I happen to be quite fond of men. And when I find one who fits comfortably into the jigsaw puzzle that is the life I so love, he’ll not only…
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