When I was 12 I thought that someday I’d be happy when I had breasts. Or when I was allowed to wear pantyhose or make-up. Or when I no longer lived “at home.” But when that didn’t happen I thought maybe when I had graduated from college. Or when I was married. Or when I had a mortgage. Or when I was out of debt. Or at least when I lost “the weight.” Continue reading
Happiness is…
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