I’m still writing the same essay. Women/Food, Women/Body Image, Women/Love. Sometimes writing an essay is like wrestling an octopus, but this one is more controlled and compact, more like adding a little at a time and making one of those big rubber band balls. The more you add, the tighter the bands get, the more it takes shape. The more it becomes itself. And the more I become myself.
And now. Back to work.
Apologies to my male readers, but here’s a new one for “what’s the strangest thing that’s ever happened to you at the OBGYN?” A friend shares: I was going through menopause, and I had a question about hormones and lack of elasticity. The doctor said, “Think of it this way: if you were going to do the splits a month from now, you’d start stretching everyday to prepare yourself, wouldn’t you? So try that.”
My friend — the PHARMACIST — was too stunned to ask, exactly, what in the hell he had in mind. Any thoughts?