nelsmiley

I wanted to reject my half-sister’s invitation to Thanksgiving. My parents told me I was being childish, told me I was being selfish. Told me that sooner or later I was going to have to face the reality of the situation. I am pretty sure the words “grow up” were used more than once. I was twelve. It had been a year since my father informed his family of my existence. But I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready to face my new immediate family, my siblings and new stepmother, let alone our shared cousins, aunts and in-laws. Chances are I could have waited years and still not have been ready. I knew that the only reason the fami

Over the past two decades the United States government has significantly extended its interest in developing and funding sex education programs in public schools. These programs, however, may not be as comprehensive as their funding due to the fact that the official government stance is to only endorse abstinence-only education. In recent years, there has been a significant increase in certain areas of funding, has President Bush as recently requested $242 million dollars be allocated from the 2008 budget. If approved by Congress, the Bush administration will have spent a total of $1.45 billion tax dollars on abstinence-only initiatives. This

Susan Perkins was the prettiest and most popular girl at my high school. Her curriculum vitae: Cross-Country Captain, Softball Pitcher, Homecoming Queen, Straight-A Student, Advisor to the Principle, Sunday School Teacher. She was the Professor of Cool. She came to school each day with a smile so bright it cut the school board’s energy budget in half. Her auburn hair floated upwards ever so slightly as if invisible cherubs held each buoyant strand in place. A vision of perfection in a normal wardrobe of skinny jeans and pink cardigans, she never wore the same pair of sandals twice. Other girls would look at her with admiration, waiting t

Every night you are in my dreams. Usually dream number seven of nine or so in a series of  images tied to foggy, remembered things and could-have-beens. You follow the reliving of Easter 1992 when my grandmother photographed me smiling in that white dress and tights that I later ruined in the wet spring grass. From the very beginning I have found it curious, that someone so distant would follow the remembrance of a five-year-old's tears on such a regular basis. Believe me, I have tried to banish you. But I can't stop conjuring your shape, letting it appear again and again in my half-sleep, the same every time. I have let y

I woke up crying again this morning, because I argued with you again last night. I remember us sitting in a running car in a parking lot somewhere downtown, maybe in front of a bakery. I was screaming as we argued about a boy, about staying out too late, about underage drinking. You grounded again me at the age of 20, because over the breaks from college I still "live under your roof". For a split second I hated you again this morning, for being such a hard ass again last night. For worrying about me when I can so obviously take care of myself. For knowing me too well. You could see right through me again, through every lie

Once upon a time--- she bought her first---------                       s  hort                       b  lack                       s  kirt for a night out with the girls. Though purchased despite her hidden but intense-------------------------hatred of her legs (specifically her knees),                       at the end of the night                       she----------------felt                       a-----little--concerned. ----------------------------- While the skirt did flare out ---------------- a bit to mask her bulging hips thighs, scared knee caps, (and whatever else she saw from behind in that mirror) she