We Should Remind Ourselves That

My Longing To Improve My Looks Via The Body Shop Is Being Replaced By My Longing To Improve My Looks Via Photoshop.

If Anger Were Mileage, I'd Be A Very Frequent Flyer, Right Up There In First Class.

Having A Lean And Hungry Look Was Frowned Upon In My Italian Neighborhood Where A Girl Was Considered Too Skinny If She Could Make Her Knees Touch.

Anger Can Offer A Sense Of Indignity To Replace A Sense Of Shame, And Offer A Voice-raised Above Others-which Can Finally Be Heard. Those Voices Are Most Effective When They Are Raised In Unison, When They Have Mercy As Well As Anger Behind Them, And When, Instead Of Roaring At The Anger Of Old Pain, They Sing About The Glorious Possibilities Of A Future Where Anger Has A Smaller House Than Hope.

I Am Constantly Surprised That The Simple Word 'feminism' Raises More Eyebrows And Initiates More Sad-faced Head-shaking Than Any Elaborate Stream Of Invective I Have Ever Leveled At Either The I.r.s. Or The D.m.v.