Thursday, September 27, 2012

The other night I was prepping for a first date. I did my usual thing: shave, wash my hair, bath in nice-smelling oils. For some reason though, no matter how many face scrubs I used or eyebrows I plucked, I didn't feel quite pretty enough. Then I remembered: I'm a fucking human, and humans aren't always beautiful or polished. Sometimes we're smelly. Sometimes our bodies grow hair in places we don't like, or we have stretch marks, or cellulite. Scratch that, my body smells sometimes. And even better, I take up space. Lots of that. There's something a bit sexy about owning all that space you occupy.

Friday, August 24, 2012

Things are new now
I'm sending you home, tucked safely
Into covers in your little air mattress of a bed
Stuffed animals perched precariously at the edge
Looking over

I kissed your lips one last time
Tasting tears, I hope, the last time
Wiping snot on my jeans

You have a cat now
And a kitchen
And a beach
I think you'll be alright.

I brush these thoughts through my hair
Thinking, "Danika, be strong, be like Oya"
And laugh
I am so far from that

I give one last look to your little bedroom
And have to laugh at Trace's collection:
Dinosaur egg oatmeal, Lion King pillow, Tolkein books, geodes
His rainbow flag dangling off one hook dangerously above his sleeping mat
It's like a slumber party
And you
Two children, living side-by-side

I think you'll be fine
I know you'll be fine
And I'll be okay too.