

Until the age of 30, I was a dissident who thought she could change the world by showing it the middle finger. I wore flip-flops, dated bad men, chain-smoked, and paid the bills through working in both publishing and non-profit.
Now at 34, I’m a newly minted attorney working at a large corporation, wearing sharp outfits with clickety-clack heels and on my way to becoming a productive and well-behaved member of society.
My mother’s thrilled.
I’m in therapy.
1 comments:
where's the facepaint? the foam fingers?
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