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Corrie knows it’s not politically correct to think of overweight persons as fat, but when she looks at Ham Wilts, she can’t help thinking of her father nodding at such a one and murmuring, There goes a walking cheese wheel.
I was a gymnast from age 4 through graduating high school. I would’ve stayed in the sport in college, if I hadn’t had a very late growth spurt—I went from 4’8” to 5’2”in my first year of college. To continue in gymnastics. I would’ve had to relearn everything. No time for that and keeping my 4.0 grades. I loved the sport, but—although I didn’t know the words for it at the time—our coaches pushed us all into anorexia or bulimia—I had both—because if we went one ounce over our assigned weight, we were benched for a week. I had a wrong view of weight from that. Almost everyone looked fat to me. It took me a very long time to undo seeing most people as fat and being very judgmental about it.
Although childless herself, Chrissy knows what the equally childless Kate McKay doesn’t: the loss of a child is like the loss of heaven.
I know this is true, because I lost what was going to be our daughter’s little brother at six months. I will never really get over it. But I’m a firm believer in a woman’s right to choose, and I always will be. A woman’s body belongs to her … not to anyone else … and especially not to any man. The current political climate in the U.S. has decided women don’t have any rights, but the tables will turn. Women have been getting abortions as long as there have been women. Sometimes they get a proper one from a medical professional, and sometimes they get one by sticking a coat hanger up their va-va’s, but they’ll never stop getting them. The hardest thing I’ve heard since men decided women didn’t own their bodies was when a friend of a friend, stuck in a southern state, had to decide which child wouldn’t be fed, because there wasn’t enough money to feed all of them.
He doesn’t pick up until the fifth ring, and sounds muzzy. “Hey, Holly. What time is it?” “Quarter past seven.” “Are you kidding? That isn’t even a real hour.”
I’m with him. My favourite T-shirt says, “ ‘Good’ and ‘Morning’ is an oxymoron.” (I have probably every sleep disorder that exists, and one of them is called a “delayed sleep phase.” For me, my innate sleep cycle is to go to sleep at 4:00 am and wake at noon.)
“When you hit a wall, break through it. Old Chinese saying.”
Do you know what the Bible actually says about abortion? Nothing.
“Depends on whether or not you believe in God, or which God you believe in. Either way, this country is a democracy, not a theocracy. Read the Constitution, son.”
“BELIEVE THE WOMAN!” the men yell… although if push should come right down to shove, Holly isn’t sure what any man will do. She’s heard women say men are simple creatures. Holly doesn’t argue the idea—such arguments are pointless—but doesn’t really believe it. Women have basements; men have sub-basements.
“You came here, now go to the polls! TELL THE MOSSBACKS THAT THE OPPOSITE OF WOKE IS FAST ASLEEP!”
She opens the email, which is titled—talk about impolitic—Nutball Churches.
Who cares about “impolitic?” Let’s all call a spade a spade. I think women forced to carry a baby that they don’t want, or can’t take care of, should leave said baby on the steps of a nutball church. Let the morons put their money where their mouth is.
“I want to close tonight by asking you to remember the words of John the Apostle. He said, ‘If any man loves the world, the love of God the Father is not in him.’ But theology as practiced by Christian fundamentalists is all about the world. Mixing religion with politics is dangerous. Not the road to Calvary but the one that leads to fascism.”
In AA they said slip stood for something lousy I planned.
“Shoemaker, stick to thy last,”
Arriving at the Garden City Plaza Hotel, Alberta Wing surveys the growing number of pro-life protestors on the far side of the street and wonders how many of the neatly groomed white women in that crowd would be willing to give birth to a stone-blind baby amid the trash and discarded liquor bottles behind the Dilly Delight Smokehouse in Selma, Alabama.
I’m betting none of them would be. They don’t like actual, breathing babies that moms need to get public assistance to feed. They only like cells with the potential to become a baby.
“Yeah, probably. You know, Holly, I think the religions of the world are responsible for a shitpot of trouble.”