I don't have to worry if my clavicles gleam like Kate Moss's, because the collar of my shirt covers them. I don't have to compare my thighs to Gwyneth Paltrow's, since I cover them with a properly fitting skirt that covers my knees.
“April 5, 2012, 9:27 a.m. I was putting the pedal to the metal down old I-75 trying to get to work so the Slave Driver at the University wouldn’t try and fire me again and God said, ‘SLOW DOWN, BOB.’ Sure enough, there was a copper just waiting by the side of the road to pull me over."
I believe witnessing “demonic activity” or whatever it was I witnessed 15 years ago gave me post-traumatic stress disorder. I began having panic attacks every time I attended church, worried that what previously seemed like a peaceful prayer could trigger a screeching attack within me.