Sisters

It's 10 am and my sister who is two years younger than me is coming over for the day. She'll be here in a couple hours and I haven't seen her for eight years. I've already run around the house giving it a once over. There is no way my house is going to be messy when she arrives. And I've finally decided on an outfit that would make me look young, thin, good? How about, better than her? I sit down to do my makeup and take a good look in the mirror at my face, and I wonder. I always looked quite a bit younger than her. That was one of my few consolations when it came to her. The other being that I was much smarter and more outgoing. But she had the beauty, and the curves, and the boobs, and the boys. I, on the other hand, was so skinny with very few curves at all, and I always looked many years younger than I was. Which is great now, but when I was young it drove me crazy. But as we aged I felt I began to have the upper hand. People always thought she was my older sister, and I definitely cherished that fact. But now....Do I still look younger?

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Ode to 50

This is sort of a poem that I wrote about a month before I turned 50. It summarizes, but doesn't completely encompass, how I feel about turning 50. Which I did, a couple of weeks ago.


Ode to 50

I don't care what the calendar says. I don't care what my birth certificate says. I don't care what my mother says


I AM NOT 50!!!!!

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