Oh yeah, I know. I, myself, just couldn't past the crappy angst.

Crappy Angst. Sounds like a band name.

Mine's a little more about breaking out than fitting in.
Not the type(F2f Shopping, 2003)

I’m not the type to wear a blouse that shows my shape. Not the type to purposely make a spectacle of myself, and definitely not the type to court the camera. I put the pleather pants back three times before I got out of the store with them. Then I bought them because they were so “not-me” that it was like screaming “Fire” in a crowded closet.Anything modest, sweet, or “You could wear this anywhere” got put back. I have tons of it at home. Sometimes I am the type: A bookish liberal turned Raymond Chandler blonde, with the power to make smart people get a little stupid.Poison in a C-cup. You just wouldn’t recognize me.

raises glass of "FOAD, Conformist world!" to internet wife #1

You'd Hardly Recognize me

I pass you on the street, marvel at your porcelain skin and coltish bare legs beneath the miniskirt, and shudder at what lies ahead of you. I want to take you aside and pat your hands, stroke your pretty hair and gaze into those wide, frightened eyes while I soothe you with assurances that you will be strong, you'll do well in crises, you'll learn self-discipline to temper your compassion.

Perhaps I could steer you gently away from disasters, and toward the difficult but more rewarding path. I could change things for us both, if I had the chance, if you had the courage.

20th Reunion Committee Meeting:

Now: I look younger than my age, Maureen looks older, and Laurie looks exactly like she should at three years shy of forty.

Then: I was obese, weepy and slovenly. Maureen was a brassy, beautiful bitch. Laurie? Laurie was popular for all the right reasons.

Now: My body is smaller, my skin is tougher; I dress to be seen. Maureen's perfect smile is kinder, and the crow's feet and laugh lines are far more beautiful than cheerleader perfection. Laurie is Laurie, and while Maureen and I blink at each other in confusion for twenty minutes, Laurie knows us at once.

Oh, man. This is such a good topic; the drabbles have been stellar.

I was just about to say, Deb -- really wonderful topic.

Drabble:

I was always the good girl. Good student, good daughter. Responsible. Capable. Reliable. Blond, too, with big green eyes. That didn't hurt. I played the angel for everyone who mattered.

Inside my head, I was a different girl. Screaming, raw, defiant, made of hot lush flowers and the darkest vines, a tangle of need and resentment that took root early. There's a T-shirt now that says "I wear black on the inside." That was me, but they wouldn't have recognized it for all the money in the world.

Untitled

If you could see me now, this far away
What would you do, my love? What would you say?
The fearless child who took the whole world on
On your behalf - would you decide, she's gone?

Those deep green eyes your touch, your kiss, once fired
Would you look down at them, and think, so tired
That jaw, those lips, legs wrapped around you tight
Has she gone gently into that good night?

If you had lived, if I'd survived the fall
I'd like to think you'd know me, after all.

Oh, that's lovely, Deb.