I was born via emergency c-section. After a long and unsuccessful labor, my mom remembers watching the monitor as my heart rate slowed with each of her fruitless contractions. Back in those days (or at least in my mom’s case) the OBGYN went whole-hog knock the mama unconscious for c-section.
Meta-miserable Bullshit Below Am still dealing with the family member excommunication. Today, I am wandering the house in a tatty old bathrobe, dead eyed exhausted, wondering how much I can write about before needing to consult a lawyer. Since this blog does not pull down mad levels of lawyer-hiring cash,
Coming out is a thing easier said than done. I mean, not for lack of trying or anything. After a bout of nervous farts and sweaty pits, I decided to attend a blogging convention. I’m talking endless fantasies of walking into some convention center with the words ANNE NAHM ironed
I’m coming out because of my dad. It took me a few days to see that, but I’ll cop to it now that I do. Of all the things he could be trying to teach me as an adult (Hey, lose some weight/treat your body better, or stay current on
Yesterday, I dared tweet about loneliness in the face of all three kids being away at school. It was half-hearted, more of a twee than full tweet. Fly, my sweet little birds, leave this empty nest. Whatever shall I do with myself – make wan impulse buys on Anthropologie? I