I loved my mother and thought I, too, would be a mother. But instead, I am closed off, with no woman in the past to look back to and no daughter in the future to look towards.
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It's not a dating jungle out there, Mrs. Susan Patton. It's a university.
As I started writing about humor and women I was also learning to be more confident about being a funny woman.
My best bet is that Anais Nin would have flung 50 Shades of Grey across the floor and said "Who are you kidding, honey? If you're going to read filth, read well-written, smart, sexy and good filth."
Her heroines were witty and perceptive even while being vulnerable and appealing; they were independent and capable, yet filled with that weird fear of overdoing everything or doing everything wrong that engulfs the most stunningly competent woman.
Why is it that as soon as we become mothers, we are expected to leave our cosmos at the bar and settle for reruns of Sex and the City?
In F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby, narrator Nick Carraway remarks, "You can't repeat the past." To which Jay Gatsby replied, "You can't repeat the past? Why of course, you can."
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