We unintentionally believe a lot of lies about our bodies. The lies fall to both extremes: on the one hand, that the human body is an object of worship, and on the other, that it’s a pointless vessel.
About nine months ago, at the age of 36, with the majority of my friends married and owning houses and raising kids, I moved in with a family to rent a room from them. It’s not what I envisioned for 36, but it’s great.
Last October, my aunt was diagnosed with breast cancer. My mom came upstairs and sat on my bed to share the news with me early one Saturday morning when I was home for a weekend visit.
Have you ever put money in a vending machine and then had the bag of chips get stuck? It’s an infuriating experience, and hardly matters that I’ve only lost about 50 cents.
