“Mommy, what are these?” said my youngest son, pointing at the unsightly marks on my tummy. We were lying down in bed that morning, being lazy during this rainy Sunday, and as I turned, my shirt rode up, exposing my belly.
With wide eyes, he traced a few of the lines, making my tummy twitch. He gasped and asked, “It still hurts?”
I laughed before I answered my little one. “No, silly. You tickled mommy’s jiggly tummy; that’s why it moved. Mommy was trying not to laugh so you could look at it but you are such a great tickler, I couldn’t help myself!” I then hugged him tight and tickled him back in return. Continue reading “Love Marks”
I am a woman.
Yet I am not what society believes is THE typical woman.
What does society believe is a typical woman?
For starters, she is someone who loves to cook. Then, on top of that, she is one who can shop till she drops; can’t go anywhere without her big bag; prefers taking care of the home and the kids rather than going up the career ladder.
Oh NO, I am definitely not that woman.
I love to eat yet I hate cooking.
Okay, let me clarify this – I can cook a passably edible meal when I need to. But do I LIKE to cook? No, I definitely don’t. I love watching cooking shows and wishing I could eat their fabulous meals but I do not have the passion and creativity in the kitchen that most people have. Continue reading “I, Woman”
“Let’s go, Mina. You aren’t supposed to be here,” Rick whispered into my ear while he held my arm in a firm grip.
I sat at the bar defiantly, pretending not to hear him at all, my confidence bouyed by my friends Johnnie and Patron. “Waiter, another shot please.”
“No. You’re drunk already as it is. Once you’re sober, you’ll realize–“
“That what?” I stared at him with fire blazing in my eyes. “That this is a mistake that I’ll end up regretting? That I am just fooling myself that I could ever escape this madness since no matter what I do, the person I love still wouldn’t love me back? That after all these years of pretending that I am over him, one glimpse of him made me remember that I will still belong to him and only him? That what I am feeling is blasphemous and I am eternally damning myself for feeling this way?” Continue reading “Sweetest Sin”