Marlene stared across the yard, watching Jimmy John scratch his backside attempting to impress the new girl.
“Why did my parents continue to procreate?”
This question ran through Marlene’s mind as she watched the grin spread across his face for the umpteenth time.
“What in the hell is wrong with that nitwit girl?”
Jimmy John hiked up his pants and leaned in to whisper some inane nothing; the girl actually blushed and giggled, giggled for the love of God.
Marlene watched Jimmy John shuffled back to the porch a smile plastered to his face, “Well, sister looks like I got me a fresh one for Friday night.”
“What the hell did you say to this one JJ?”
“The same thing your husband said to you the first time you said yes!”
Jimmy John guffawed and slapped his knee. Marlene thought, “I have to get out of this backward town”.

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Oprah I just need a minute of your time to talk about your magazine, which I do enjoy reading except for a couple of small problems. Just a couple really, you being the publisher and one of the richest most influential women in the world could fix this with a smile and a snap of your well-manicured fingers. I wish you would think about the message you send, I do. So let me tell you what is on my mind, what is bugging me this lovely Sunday morning as I sit with my coffee and your magazine. I would bet if you knew you would think this might be relevant. Of course, then again you might think to yourself, “Really, I am Oprah Winfrey and my magazine makes millions without the advice of some barely read blogger from Texas, pfftt”.

reference to ‘skinny bitches’ and you have my sincere apology if you were offended, truly. The truth is I wish I was one of you so I could wear all the fabulous clothing I salivate over in Oprah and Vogue. This was written somewhat tongue in cheek but also in part to address what is lacking in all media today, women who look like me and like the average American woman.

When all you have isn’t enough, then what?
has burst with laughter and I have trod paths both new and ancient searching for nothing more than passages to joy. I have risked my heart more than once, because well because I am a romantic and despite I have had the ever-loving shit stomped out of me more than once I still believe in love. Despite a tough as nails exterior, despite scars, not just on the inside but some prominent ones on the outside, I am still somewhat mushy and sometimes all too forgiving of the failure of others to take care of the gifts I freely give.