February 2011
2 posts
Ma'am, Hag, 34, Same Difference
My students often try to guess how old I am. Most of them are a handful of years younger than me, others are closer to my age. I don’t wear khakis or corduroy, nor do I shop at Talbotts, so it’s understandable my age confuses them since their standard reference is Mr. Chang, the information systems instructor whose shoes have buckles and whose flip phone is always clipped to his...
Open Letter to the Churning Sludge in My Guts
Dear Hormones,
What’s the deal lately? Why am I crankier, weepier and generally more unpleasant to be around for PMS Week (which, by the way, is now closer to 10 days, not the one or two that Mrs. Tanaka explained in health class) than I was when you raged in my teenage loins like a oonce-ooncing rave? Why does it feel like 4,000 little fists are punching their way through my lower...
