Political Correctness Is A Minefield

For All Of My Life It Was The Size Of My Rear That Caused Me The Most Hand-wringing, But In This Nearly-50 Zone It Is My Stomach That Is The Problem. It Seems To Have Broken Free From Its Moorings And There Is No Knowing How Far It Will Roam.

Every Day I Wake Up Afraid That I Won't Be Able To Write, That Today Is The Day It Has Left Me.

One Day We'll All Be Dead, And None Of This Will Matter" -the Brightest Star In The Sky.

No More Humiliation For Me, Thanks Very Much. No More Swallowing My Anger. Honestly, I Couldn't Manage Another Mouthful. But It Was Delicious. Did You Make It Yourself?

Do I Mind Being Called A Chick-lit Writer? Well, It's Not The Worst Thing That Could Happen.