I remember, as a teenager, having a disagreement with a friend of mine when I wouldn’t call myself a feminist because I said that it implied that I hated men and I was terrified of being seen as anything other than a desirable, sexual being who just loved guys.
I hadn’t remembered writing a suicide note -- I didn’t remember very much of the 24 hours surrounding the overdose. My handwriting made me cry, it was clear I had written it just before I lost consciousness, it was jagged and pained, on the back of the envelope of a bill I hadn’t paid
I have a variety of face masks that I use for different things -- for varying skin complaints and for varying moods. My bedroom is like a day spa (if Aveda used Marlboro Reds as incense) and I am going to give you a rundown of my favourites.
My hair loss is actually getting a lot better as I get my act together around my food plan. The problem is that the hair left over is so limp that it practically sticks to my head and I feel like an old man with a combover.