When I say “please don’t take a picture of me” it’s not because I’m being bitchy and stubborn, it’s because if I see that picture I will seriously feel so bad about myself and think I am the ugliest thing on earth and sink a little deeper into self consciousness and hatred.
She is not “my girl.”
She belongs to herself, and to all of the world. And I am blessed, for with all her freedom, she still comes back to me, moment-to-moment, day-by-day, and night-by-night.
How much more blessed can I be?"
Come up behind me while I’m making dinner.
Wake me up in the middle of the night to tell me about your dream.
Tell me if I cook something gross so I never make it again.
Laugh with me when I mess up my words.
Know that my bobby pins are everywhere, all the time. I’m sorry.
Stay in your underwear with me all day on a Saturday once in a while.